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fauustic · 1 year

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loved your bubble bath fic! can i make a request about miguel and reader who’s always doing favors for him (ex: bringing him lunch, patching him up after a rough night of fighting crime, checking up on him) and he tries to figure out why they’re doing this bc he thinks he’s a freak bc of his powers, until reader just confesses their undying love for him?

i hope i did this one justice! thank you for the request, anon!!

gender-nonconforming reader x miguel “spider-man 2099″ o’hara

angst, comfort. miguel, unable to accept his changed self, runs into you.

warnings: newly genetically altered miguel, intense insecurity and self-consciousness on his end. use of "freak" as self-depreciation. spanish may be iffy, not the best so i had little help with a translator :)

word count: 4291

Miguel liked the apartment he found himself in, low-key and hidden away from most of the hustle and bustle of the city. The complex was barely busy, except the few residential college students just looking for a place with cheap rent and the couple drunk office-workers who drag themselves to their apartment late every-night.

Having his senses genetically evolved, he couldn’t exactly fight himself when it came to being observant. Miguel would accidentally eavesdrop on work conversation, learning rather disgusting secrets of his co-workers with a sneer before trying his best to cover his ears subtly. The rare moments he was walking along the street alone, he’d hear passing comments that would normally flatter him, but hearing it from hushed strangers made him feel a gross way. Like he was intruding beyond boundaries. Learning things he shouldn’t by accident made him feel like a social monster.

Miguel knew almost everything going on around him. So when he was able to pick up on the clink of keys jingling into the presumably-empty apartment right next to it, Miguel wasn't exactly curious about the new neighbor– if anything he was a bit irritated. Knowing he'd have to suffer through days due to your chores, or the clanging of pots around every dinner, it made him feel more of a freak. No one else had to deal with such problems, so the newfound issues arising ever since the incident of quite literally getting his genetics flipped upside down– it made his skin crawl and heart ache.

He would continue to suffer in quiet, claws digging into his pillow in a fit of agitation. Miguel will continue trying to live his life, and as you will yours.

It took weeks to finally run into you, as he stepped out of his own apartment and you were entering yours. It was a complete fluke, as Miguel began growing accustomed to wearing earbuds and turning on an easy-listening playlist to try and drown out the noises that normally put him so on edge.

He was locking his apartment before finally noticing your figure standing in your own doorway, a smile on your lips so genuine he almost was stunned. A welcoming neighbor in the city of Nueva York? Completely unheard of, quite frankly, it may even be considered suspicious.

The moment Miguel slipped off one of the earbuds, your voice met his eardrums in a way he's never heard anyone before. Usually, Miguel would gain a migraine after conversation with others. He's not used to his powers yet, and as much as it made him feel as if he was just some animal, the case didn't arise with you.

Smiling with sincerity, you held out your hand for him to take in a greeting. "Hi! I was wondering if I moved next to someplace haunted.." It was obviously a joke, yet when Miguel hadn't reacted you felt the need to explain in a much more awkward tone. "I suppose I just would hear some rummaging over on your side, but not a single person ever stepped foot out until now! Thought I was just hearing things." You giggled, rubbing the back of your neck while your other still hung with anticipation.

Miguel felt a subtle smile sneak itself onto his own features, before firmly shaking your hand back. "Ah, I hope you've been settling in well. Welcome to Nueva City, it's a pleasure to meet you." He wasn't necessarily trying to be awkward, it's just he technically does work all day, goes home, and then proceeds to pummel the absolute shit out of criminals corrupting the city. Miguel has lost a touch of charisma when it comes to new people, his usual way of conservating was from whoever was on the opposing side of his fists. A silence loomed over the two of you before you perked up, giving him a "hold on, there's something I have for you," before disappearing within your apartment.

Confusion etching his consciousness, Miguel shifted on his feet. "What?" He huffed out. Guilt seeped into his thoughts, why are you the one giving a gift? Shouldn't he be the one to bring a house-warming present?

Miguel shook his head, easily brushing off your antics with an excuse of you "being nice, wanting a friend close by." He practically chuckled at the idea, Miguel wasn't the type to befriend off a whim, as much as he hated it he knew he was played a tough facade for those around him. It was difficult to break that barrier as he didn't trust others well, let alone allow an opportunity to accidentally reveal his monstrous features to a civilian.

His doubts were interrupted with a light giggle from that melodious voice of your's, a nervous bounce in your step as you held out tupperware for him. It was nothing too big, only enough for a meal, but the warmth in his hands rendered him shell-shocked. Growing flustered, he opened his mouth to ask what this was before you quickly answered before the words tumbled off his lips.

"It's nothing special, I was just making some good ol' chicken alfredo pasta last night and had some leftover." You explained with a flurry of nervous hand gestures, catching Miguel's gaze. He found himself studying you excessively, the idea of eating a home-cooked meal for the first time that week had his mouth watering. "Since we never catch each other, I thought your schedule may not allow you to have a good meal every once and a while." Miguel couldn't deny that the idea made his chest bloom with a painful tenderness despite just thinking how he wouldn't cave easily for you.

He didn't deserve this normalcy from you. He didn't deserve this meal from someone like you, sweet and caring and human. As much as a voice whispered to him to open up, to accept this because he needed such kindness– Miguel shut his brain off as he met your own stare.

You were messing with a bracelet on your wrist with a downturned frown and a nervous glint in your eyes due to his abrupt silence. He perked up once realizing the anxiety was because of him, because of his reaction.

"This is.. very nice of you." Miguel confessed stiffly, unsure how to exactly react because he's not used to gifts. "Thank you..?"

You blurted your name out clumsily as he trailed off, and Miguel just couldn't contain the chuckle that escaped his lips. It was nothing like the chuckle before, he felt happiness explode through his chest at the simple sight of you joining him.

"Thank you," Repeating your name, he caught the wobble of your smile when it purred off his tongue. His words were more genuine as the tension from before loosened. Miguel's gaze dropped from his next lunch to your hands, in which he couldn't help but squeeze them both in a reassuring manner. It may have been difficult with the tupperware sandwiched between his arm and hip, but he was determined to express his gratitude in a friendly manner. He knew he was acting a bit weird, but he truly was trying to hold it together.

"Miguel, Miguel O'hara." He finally introduced himself, almost wanting to slap his cheek over stupidly waiting so long to do so. But you just giggled, and the squeeze he felt on both his hands washed away any thoughts his insecurities infected him with. "So nice to meet you, Miguel." What an angel, un ser celestial he couldn't help the thought.

Your phone erupted through the comfortable silence that enveloped over the two of you, and with an apologetic glance you signalled you had to go. Before finally picking up your phone, you quickly sputtered out "have a good day at work!"

For the first time since his incident, he felt normal. The lighthearted conversation, the look of joy directed towards him in contrast to the usual fear. It fueled something inside him, a yearning for more.

Miguel, for the first time in so many years, looked forward to a day in the lab because of some chicken alfredo pasta. It was stupid, he knew that.

But as his tongue met the noodles later that shift, which were seasoned just right, accompanied with a tender, grilled slab of chicken– Miguel almost fell out on the floor of his lab. He had never missed home-cooked dishes more than now after finally getting a taste of your recipe.

Stabbing another forkful, he wondered why you didn't just keep the rest of it for yourself.

A full week passed until a light knock and ring to his doorbell met the dimly lit room.

He couldn't withstand bright lights, especially the overhead light of his apartment. Miguel's eyesight still was trying to get used to the sharpness, the ability to track a motion muscle by muscle. It was a blessing, being able to to spearhead figures in the dark– but lights enraged migraines he couldn't shake off for days.

Wincing as he dodged his suit lamely bundled on the floor of his apartment, Miguel couldn't help but hiss when his nose scrunched the wrong way. The stench of blood flooded his senses, the black eye forming tingling with pain. He was exhausted, and ready to tell off whoever decided to ring him this late into the hour.

What he didn't expect to see was you, standing in the doorway with a sleepiness to your expression as your pajamas hung loosely to your form. In your hands, this time, was a tray of cookies that looked as if they just left the oven. "Hey there, neighbor," you giggled with a tired haze in your tone, shifting your attention from your slippers to his own eyes.

Yet, after a few seconds of your eyes adjusting to the darkness, you were able to make his injuries out with a surprised gasp. The silly greeting was forgotten as quickly as it came, you demanded answers as the light from your own apartment seeped into his. Miguel's shock at seeing you up this late easily allowed you to push past him, laying the cookies down on the nearest counter you found.

"Miguel, what is wrong with your face?" You whispered with sadness, your grasp finding purchase on his cheeks. He couldn't bear this proximity with you, so he quickly pushed the advancement aside before trying to conjure up any excuse he could make.

"I had– a–" He sighed a huff of frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose in habit. But the gesture was quickly ruined with his own whine of pain, something he didn't want you to hear at all. "I had a fight at work, okay?" Miguel hisses through fangs, yet they didn't catch your attention due to the chaos of suddenly finding "Well-Kept, Awkward Chemist Guy" with a bloodied nose and a bruising eye. "I didn't expect it, ya know? El científico loco. Took a few swigs of a sample and that went wrong. Was caught in the crossfire."

He hadn't realized you had wandered off, rampaging through his bathroom for medical supplies until you came back with the items in hand. "Go on, sit down." You ordered, and with confusion etched all over his face, Miguel couldn't allow himself to disobey.

The apartment, dark with the exception of a few neon lights peeking through the big windows every now-and-then, stayed silent except for the few "be quiets" in response to Miguel's hisses and muffled groans. He hated being so vulnerable in front of someone he knew so little of, which led him to bring out the question that's been on the tip of his tongue this entire time. He shuffled nervously in his seat that you led him to minutes ago as you stood in between his legs with a focused expression resting on your features.

But you beat it to him first. As your hands skillfully bandaged wounds littering his skin, one one his shoulder and a few other on his back, your solemn tone broke through Miguel's guilt like a talon against prey.

"I know that story you made up was utter bullshit,"

"What-"

"No, you listen to me O'Hara." You tutted, as stern as he's ever heard you. "I'm not asking for excuses, or an entire story that's a lie. I asked what happened because I was worried, I'm not mad."

Miguel's breathing hitched, looking at his nails that briefly unsheathed into claws before he was able to control his panicked shame. "Why?" He couldn't help but mumble, "why are you worried? You have no right to be, no somos nada el uno para el otro. Nothing is between us, you should have left the moment you saw." Miguel avoided your eyes that peered into his soul like you knew his secret, could read him inside out. Tears he didn't know he could produce clouded his vision, deeply moved from the drop of kindness you've granted him.

You sighed, heavy and lingering. Words were left unspoken as he was drawn into a hug by your arms, in which he greedily returned with his own hold.

Miguel fought within himself constantly, the idea of being accepted for his differences was completely foreign to him. But here you were, denying every thought he's ever had about himself. And you didn't even, truly know him.

"Don't cry," You murmured into his curls as you pet the back of his head before returning to applying a new, medicated bandaid on his nose. Swiping away tears as you brushed away dried blood, Miguel would choke out a "I don't deserve this, I don't," before being promptly cut off with a flurry of reassurance.

By the end of the night, Miguel allowed himself to be led to his bed by you, exhaustion evident within his walk as you had to help keep him steady.

It was nauseating, seeing Miguel in such a broken state. It made you wonder if he sat in his apartment, wallowing in his own mind. You had no idea what he was going through, but you were determined to keep him grounded.

That night, as Miguel was tucked into bed by you like a sick child, you vowed to try to be there more for the man you developed a genuine attraction to over the weeks of small chit chat.

The little shame he held close to his heart washed away with ease as throughout the upcoming weeks, your visits would become more frequent, showering him in little trinkets you'd pass by in the city that "reminded you of him" and homemade goodies.

Miguel just couldn't bring himself to understand why you put in such an effort to include him in your routine, to keep him, a man in pieces that just coincidentally was your neighbor, in your life.

As many times as you halted his vague little ramblings of "I do not deserve this, I truly don't, pequeño panadero," he had this mentality rammed within his brain that he just couldn't shake. Something that made no sense because he just couldn't open up to you.

After a bad run-in with a lowly villain, Miguel groaned every time his form landed on another building to climb. His features threatened to frown at his awareness, the absurdity of it all. Here he was, digging talons into metal beams to scale skyscrapers with another set of nasty scratches and bloodied knuckles. What the fuck? Tonterías.

Miguel was having such difficulty coming to terms with his new lifestyle as he pushed himself to continue without a break, the only bits and pieces of clarity was with you.

Everytime you two met, you always had some sort of sweet or delicious tray of food that could might as well be a contestant for a national baking competition. He would tell himself not to eat it, it would be dumb to open that door of craving more, but Miguel always caved as the scent of freshness wafted throughout his apartment in the hours he was alone.

He fell in love with every sugary cookie you conjured with care, and every noodle dish that slowly shifted to recipes he's never heard of.

Why were you doing such things? Miguel would ask himself with a palm dragging over his face, earbuds softly echoing that playlist he can't seem to escape. He was a monster, a tailored man overcome by science. He hated who he became against his will, drowning out such vile insecurities with the nights of being Spiderman 2099.

Muttering under his breath, he swung through the balcony of his apartment with a soft thud, ripping the mask off his face with a relieved sigh.

Miguel felt so disconnected to himself, when he heard a muffled "Miggy..?" reach his ears his blood ran cold and every one of his senses was on fire. He froze, looking around at the home he found himself in– a bit cosier than his one and filled with the most enticing scents. He saw white for just a moment, his legs dead with anxiety as your voice– less groggy and more aware now– continued to try and catch his attention.

This was not his bedroom, which was empty for the most part except essentials, this was your bedroom. And the realization smashing his brain, rattled him to an extent that he felt a whole new kind of fear. Nothing he's ever experienced out in the city, under the guise that he was simply just a superhero. No one truly knew he was a genetically engineered monster, and yet he was so mindless that the truth is now revealed to the one person who put up with him.

Your light graze met his suited shoulder, leading him to sit down on the edge of your bed in his daze. You were silent, he knew that much despite feeling as if he was drowning underwater.

You went to work on patching up the blemishes upon his jaw, most likely a right hook he couldn't dodge in time causing the damage. His attention was in a whole different dimension, but as your free hand led his chin up to your own eyes, an expression you've never seen from his cold exterior crushed every piece of your soul. Miguel was in pain, both physically and mentally.

His eye, which was just finally healing from the other night, twitched ever so slightly as if tears threatened to fall. You never knew he would be so emotional, but obviously there was more to him that meets the eye.

"Why are you doing this, ángel?" He mumbled, scarlet gaze piercing your own. They were hazy, as if he was struggling to stay in the present. He was too caught up in his own mind he began rambling little by little, venom dripping from his tongue when referencing himself. "Soy el diablo reencarnado, I'm a disgusting animal." He spat with tears falling, your gentle fingertips working on both dabbing ointment and his tears away without a word. When the atmosphere was only silence, he couldn't help but express more of what he was thinking.

"I am not what you think I am." He choked down a gasp of air, his hold digging into your sides in desperation. "I don't deserve this kindness, I'm vile. A freak," Tone rough and full of self-depreciation, he kept his head fixated towards you standing between his legs. "All these gifts, delicacies that you've flooded my home with– you've given them away to an absolute freak. Una bestia repugnante. You carded your fingers through his tousled, dampened with sweat curls with a soft smile which almost sent Miguel downward into another spiral of doubt if you hadn't begun talking.

As he subconsciously leaned into your loving pets upon his scalp and fluttering eyes, you couldn't help but utter a nervous laugh with a twisted feeling in your gut.

"Miguel, you stupid, stupid man." You couldn't help but coo, as his eyes peeled open in an instant. But you continued before he could sputter more nonsense.

"I–" You squeezed your eyes shut as nervousness almost halted your advancements, but you pushed through as Miguel's grasp around your hips tightened in his own anticipation. "I've never viewed you as someone disgusting."

"Because you've never been exposed to the truth–"

"Because I just see a man who needs help. A space to feel safe." You sighed, leaning down to his level as your hands trailed from his curls to his cheeks. You held onto his skin with a firm, but loving touch that he practically melted into. A sob erupted through his throat, followed with a purr of comfort.

"You don't think I'm asqueroso? ¿Un error de un hombre?" He murmured, desperation in his voice. Pleading for your validation as if he's waited all his life for this.

You sighed for the millionth time that night, trying to relieve yourself of stress. Before you could stop yourself, Miguel was pulled into your embrace, his head meeting your chest. He snuggled closer, his arms wrapping around your waist without a second thought. Nails tracing shapes through your thin shirt, he breathed in deeply. He basked in the comfort of your smell, choking up at the acceptance he's finally been craving.

Miguel's grown quite attached to you throughout the weeks of your favors as much as he tried to deny the advancements in secret. His head buzzed with the idea of you when his thoughts grew too overwhelming in the dead of night, wishing to hear the melody of your voice that is his only medicine to calm down.

The next words that tumbled from your exasperated lips shocked the both of you.

"I love you."

He almost broke his neck trying to meet your gaze. "¿Qué estás diciendo?" He laughed stiffly, not believing his ears.

You repeat yourself, force beneath your words to try and drill it into his head. "Miguel, I know this is cliche and stupid and unbelievable–"

You breathed in and out, trying to steady yourself to remain level-headed. You wouldn't know what to do if the man you've pined for rejected you.

"I give you my favorite cookies because I keep you in my mind while making them, wishing you were right next to me while I bake." You confessed, cheeks growing hot at finally saying the thought aloud.

"I don't give you lunch everyday because I have some leftover. I do it because I'm worried you're not taking care of yourself enough." You began wiping away his tears as your confessions filled the night air, words he never expected to hear because of who he came to be.

"I do all these things because I'm," You leaned in, bringing your voice to a whisper in fear of getting rejected. "I'm in love with all of you, whether it be the little rambles you find yourself in or the fangs you try to hide from other's eyes. You have consumed my every thought, the favors I did because I was worried turned into favors I wanted to do because of the way your lips quirked up as you held onto the gifts like a lifeline."

Miguel laughed, a real airy laugh that squeezed through his teeth like it pained him. The warmth of his breath fanned your lips as you held his face, and as his tearful gaze darted to your mouth and back to your eyes, you knew exactly what left his tongue next.

"Please.. please can I kiss you, cariño?" It was like a ticking time bomb.

You couldn't even cry out, "yes, please– anything–" before his lips were on yours, heated and sloppy as if he's been thinking about this for weeks. His fingers slipped under your shirt, to knead into the flesh of your sides, dangerously close to the mounds of flesh he rested upon before.

You couldn't help but moan into his mouth, which he eagerly swallowed before wincing as a shock of pain shot through his jaw.

You immediately separated from his lips, a string of saliva left in its wake.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you strain yourself–" you began to apologize, before he snatched your face up with frantic carefulness and stole another needy kiss.

This time, the pace was slower, less wild and more sensual. He panted into your mouth, licking into it before finally separating on his own terms before dragging his fangs down your lower lip.

Miguel sighed, forehead resting upon yours as the both of you tried to catch your breath. "Gracias mi ángel. Thank you for showing me, for showing me what I needed."

You nodded, eyes fluttering close in newfound sleepiness. "Stay the night, please." You couldn't help but ask, and Miguel took the offer the moment it escaped your thoughts.

"Let me go get a change of clothes–" He gestured at the suit he was still wearing, "and I'll be back before you know it, cariño."

Laughing and giving him one last peck, you sent him off on his way. "If you don't come back, you're going to be missing out on some homemade pancakes in the morning." You teased, pride swelling when you caught his soft flustered chuckle.

"I would never miss such an offer for the world." Was the last thing Miguel purred before tugging his mask on in one swoop and jumping from your balcony.

The last thing you remember as sleep began to take over was the divet next to you in the bundle of blankets and sheets; a pair of marred arms pulling you into a warm chest. Breath fanning your ear, Miguel's own sleepy whisper lulled you to sleep.

"I love you more." He murmured, "absolutely adore you cariño."

#miguel o'hara #into the spider verse #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara comfort #x gender neutral reader #x comfort #comfort #x reader #angst #miguel o'hara angst

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whatswrongwithblue · 15 days

Text

Alastor Headcannons

Fem cat demon reader in a relationship with the Radio Demon

SFW

Rosie introduced him to you. Maybe not necessarily with the idea that you two would be romantic, but she saw similarities between you two and knew you would eventually hit it off.

Once you stopped constantly arguing, that is.

The man had been an Overlord for so long and had sworn off attempting romance for an even longer period, that he genuinely did not recognize his feelings for you as romantic inclinations at first.

He knew he liked you. Admired you. And enjoyed your company. Could talk to you for hours about anything and everything. So obviously that meant he wanted to own your soul.

That blew up in his face – almost literally.

He quickly found out there was nothing he could offer you, or do to you, including putting you in harms way, to force you into making any kind of deal with him. He couldn’t make himself do a damn thing to you. And that scared him and made him avoid you for a long time after that.

But when you two did eventually reunite, it was a lightbulb moment for him, and he pretty much immediately started pursuing an actual relationship with you.

PDA isn’t really his thing, besides hand holding and possibly a hand on the small of your back if he’s feeling extra possessive or wanting to show you off.

The biggest exception to this rule is dancing. He loves to take you dancing.

Surprisingly, he really doesn’t mind others knowing you two are an item.

Some might think he’d want to hide it, worried that others would see you as a weakness to exploit but honestly? Who would dare go after something the Radio Demon held in such high regard. Let them try, my dear.

In private, if he’s in a good mood, he’s quite the sweety.

His love language is definitely acts of service and quality time.

He’ll want to start each day relaxing, enjoying coffee and breakfast with you. He cooks. And throughout the day he really enjoys just being the same room with you, even if you’re both absorbed in your own tasks.

In private, if he’s in a bad mood, he’s very distant.

Don’t touch him and try not to interrupt his work.

He’ll still unconsciously show his affection for you by letting his guard down in these moments.

He’ll let his mask slip a little, show you how upset he is when he would never let anyone else know what’s capable of actually getting under his skin.

He’ll be in some disheveled state. Have his jacket off, or bow tie undone, or hair tied back. He’ll have his microphone across the room. Little things to show he’s still comfortable being vulnerable with you but still . . . best not push it because then he’ll get a little mean.

If you’ve accidentally hurt his feelings in some way, then the insults will start. He’ll call you annoying or dramatic, but he won’t raise his voice unless you do first. He rarely swears so when he does, you know he’s completely at his wits end with you or with whatever else has upset him.

He would never ever lay a hand on you.

If he’s really pushed to the edge, his power might be harder to control. Lights may break, his shadow will go nuts on the wall around you, and he’ll even take on a more demonic, imposing form, but you’ll still feel completely safe in his presence.

Have I mentioned how rare these arguments are? There’s a reason why he’s comfortable enough to be in a relationship with you, because 99% of the time, you understand each other perfectly and can calm the other one down.

At the end of a “no touch day” he’ll usually come find you and initiate some type of cuddle. Usually once you’ve already gone to bed.

He’ll slip under the sheets behind you, probably still a little damp from a shower, and either be the big spoon or, if you’re awake, rest his head on your chest while you stroke his ears.

Those ears are mighty sensitive. Not in a sexual way, but it always sooths his exhausted nervous system when he allows you to touch them like that.

That, and your purrs. No lullaby in the world is as potent as the mesmerizing sensation of your purrs when his body is laid close against yours.

It took him a few months to admit it, but after the first time he told you he loved you; he says it all the time. His mother always told him you couldn’t overuse that phrase if you meant it, so you tend to hear it multiple times a day.

He isn’t fluent in Louisiana Creole, but he knows a few phrases, and will slip into the native accent of his youth and whisper them in your ears when he’s trying to sooth you if you’re the one upset.

He took decades to propose. You never pestered him about it, but Rosie did – and that probably made him take even longer to get around to it than if she had just let it alone.

Neither of you were super into the idea of a big ceremony but then word got out and half of Cannibal Town was asking about Save the Dates so you two decided that while the vow exchange would be short and sweet, the reception would be a fucking party.

NSFW

Sex had not been a part of this man’s life for a very long time.

He’d only been in two brief relationships, once as a teen, and once later to appease his mother, and neither one exactly went well.

Even his rut, which makes most other demons sex-crazed, used to just make him more aggressive and territorial. The physical aspects of it were easy to take care of in private, so he never had to seek out other outlets.

But then you came along and while it still wasn’t as much of a priority for him as it was for you, he still found himself enjoying and even desiring that kind of intimacy with you.

For the first time in . . . well, ever . . . he found himself initiating sex with someone, rather than the other way around, and you found yourself pleasantly satisfied whenever he was in the mood.

Don’t get me wrong, he could still be - and was often - very touch adverse, especially after a difficult day.

But if he’s happy and relaxed and you’re around . . . you two are going to end up under the covers.

He used to hate his tail. He’d even cut it off more than once, but it always grew back. But you liked it and he liked anything that pleased you. And then you started touching it during intercourse and he really liked that.

If the guy has one cum button, it’s you stroking his tail while he’s inside you.

It also really helps that you are so comfortable with your tail and you constantly let him touch it.

He’s definitely a top. Sex is just not interesting to him unless he knows you’re getting off, so it’s either mutual pleasure or your pleasure, but he doesn’t care for anything that involves just his body.

You enjoy going down on him, and it’s okay for him, at least for starters, but he rarely lets you do it for very long. It’s just . . . boring, for him. He’ll compromise and 69 if you’re really in the mood for that kind of thing.

He gets very excited when you’re in heat.

It’s the only thing that can -almost- always override his touch aversion on a bad day.

The idea of you wanting him that much, to the point of it being a near constant physical need for him to be inside you, really gets him going.

He wears out faster than you do, but even after he can’t get it up anymore, he has a multitude of other appendages (fingers, tongue, tentacles) and even some toys that he thoroughly enjoys using on you until you are finally sated.

He’s not one for dirty talk. It makes him uncomfortable, and he finds it distracting. He stays pretty quiet himself during sex, but he loves the needy little moans and whines you make.

He does bite.

And slap your ass.

He’s not usually one for restraints or whips, but he does enjoy marking you with his teeth and claws. Again, this man wanted to own your soul, so he’s going to enjoy leaving physical reminders all over your body that you are his.

His rut is much harder to handle now that he’s sexually active.

And he’s very different in bed when he’s in a rut.

That’s when he dirty talks.

And that’s when he really gets rough.

You have on more than one occasion been face fucked to the point of choking and tears.

And those shadow tentacles really come out to play during that time of year.

They’ll be wrapped around your body, your neck, limbs, etc. They’ll fuck your mouth, your ass, any part of you that his cock isn’t in. He wants you completely controlled and filled up by him when he’s fucking you in his rut.

And he can go for a very long time. Multiple times. You learned after the first year to just plan on taking a vacation that time of year because really, other than eating and sleeping, he pretty much demands that’s all you two do.

He can sometimes lose control of his power and his bodily form during sex.

You’ll know when he’s close to climax because those antlers get massive and his eyes tend to go black. And if he’s in a rut, he can get a little . . . big.

Like, all of him. His entire body. But also yes, his dick gets larger then, too.

One time, you were just about to say you were getting stretched a little too much down there, and his weight was starting to crush you, when he literally broke the bed. That’s all hot and steamy in romance novels, but you just about broke your tail that night and ended up nearly impaled by the bed frame.

Another time, he got his antlers stuck in the backboard of the bed and that was even more embarrassing for him than breaking the actual bed had been because it took him so long to calm down enough to control the size of those things and meanwhile you had just been pinned beneath him and laughing hysterically at the very horny, very frustrated, very stuck husband of yours.

He’s a self-inflicted insomniac and doesn’t let himself sleep much, so after sex, he tends to pass out next to you and when he finally wakes up, he usually insists you join him in the bath or shower for some aftercare.

He’ll help clean any wounds that haven’t already healed, massage your overworked muscles, and verbally check in with you that he didn’t take things too far. Especially since after a rough rut-induced session, he gets awfully insecure about the things he did to you in the heat of the moment.

Of course, you’re always happy to ensure him that you really enjoy that side of him and you’ve never felt like he’d taken anything too far with you.

(P.S. These are some ideas I worked through on what this ace-spectrum Overlord man would be like in a committed relationship for my new OC wife x Alastor fic. I’ve been working on it for weeks now and am just about ready to start posting. It’s been very difficult writing him truly in character while also navigating meeting my OC, coming to terms with his feelings for her, and how he would behave as a partner/husband. For this post - so that it can be its own standalone work - I’ve changed all the wording to Y/N, with the only specifics being that Y/N is a cat demon. But if you really enjoyed this, I hope you’ll stick around for The Fire in the Sin. It’s going to essentially be all of the above turned into a novel, that’s half prequel and half current events for Hazbin Hotel.)

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor x reader #alastor x y/n #alastor x oc #hazbin hotel fandom #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor fanfiction #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor headcanons

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the-cat-and-the-birdie · 9 months

Text

Y'ALL I'LL URGENTLY NEED YOUR IMPUT RIGHT NOW

BECAUSE LIKE AM I READING THIS WRONG

So in this scene:

Peter is consistently and very pressingly trying to get Miles to hold MayDay, before having a heart to heart with him.

When suddenly his watch says "We got your location, Peter."

DID YOU INTERPRET THIS AS INTENTIONAL OR NOT?

Since my first viewing, I believed it was fully intended and that Peter had alerted them that he was with Miles. I always assumed Peter was ratting him out.

But so far two people have told me they see this is accidental. Which shocked me. Do you think it's intentional, or a complete accident?

Here's why I think it was completely intentional:

So of course we begin the scene with Peter being VERY insistent that Miles hold his baby. Like.. uncomfortably consistent. He's deadset on getting Miles to hold Mayday. Insisting that it'll make everything okay.

They end up in a small enclosed area.

So they're in this enclosed space, and now Miles chances of escape drop dramatically. Going down seriously is the only way he can leave - and he can only do that if both his hands are free.

Peter knows for a fact if Miles is holding MayDay - 1) he can't swing and 2) he would never kidnap her.

I always interperted Peter's insistence not as a weird fatherly thing, but a ploy to get Miles to stay in one place.

In a space like this, Miles can't wallcrawl with a baby in his hands, and there's no place to swing, besides - Miles would never take her from her father anyway.

Plus there's the Lyla thing. Let me go on.

Peter gets down beside him, putting a hand on Miles trying to get his eye contact. And then MayDay attaches herself to Miles' arm. Peter is really close here - like MayDay doesn't have to lean much to cling on to him.

By the time he says 'And she happened-' MayDay is already on him, Miles just hadn't noticed yet. Peter isn't holding her anymore.

In one shot, MayDay is on the other side of Peter, then suddenly she's on Miles' arm. I assumed this was Peter putting MayDay on Miles, are at least getting her close enough to cling to him.

To me it looks like he literally passed her from one arm to the next in order to get her close to Miles.

Now Miles hands are full. He can't go anywhere. Now all Peter has to do is laugh and joke until they can get to him. Peter even judges the way Miles holds her - I assumed this was him trying to coax him into really holding her, calming down and not focus on leaving.

The better Miles grip on her is, the less likely he is too take off.

Right after this Lyla announces herself - saying "We got your location, Peter."

Now, I always took this as confirmation that yes, he set up Miles.

Why else would Lyla speak out loud to him if he's hadn't spoken to her first. If Peter didn't KNOW he was being tracked, why would Lyla just announce it to him suddenly? Her natural protocol probably would've been to just tell Miguel.

So I always saw Lyla speaking out loud like this as the sign that Peter spoke to HER first, letting her know to track his location, and believing it was safe to respond out loud, Lyla replied back.

Instead of Lyla just talking suddenly and giving Peter away.

As soon as this happened, I immediately understood why he was SO insistent on Miles holding MayDay and holding her well, and calming down.

Because he was intentionally trying to corner/ground him in time for The Society to get to him.

How else would they even know that he was with Miles - and to track HIM and not Gwen - unless he directly told them 'I have Miles with me.' someway?

From Day 1 I saw this as intentional, but I've seen multiple people now who believe it was an accident.

What do you believe? Cause I don't think Lyla would just speak out loud unprompted in a situation like this. To me I always saw it as her responding to Peter, AFTER Peter ratted Miles out.

I mean, look at Miles' face. He LOOKS betrayed. He LOOKS HURT.

Peter says he didn't know, but Miles doesn't believe that. Neither do I.

He says "I didn't know, I promise." But I was like-

Yeah sure, you didn't know the watch you've had for months and the sophisticated ass AI on it can track your location, sure bro.

Sure, Lyla just figured out on her own that you were with Miles and then decided to rat you out. Sure. Her voice recognition picked up Miles being there and she still spoke out loud uh-huh. STFU.

You not making no sense bro CAP. STOP THE CAP!!!!

Like...... Seriously, how else would Lyla know to ping Peter's location, other than him telling her. It's just him and MILES!!!!!

I don't know. That how I always read the situation.

And Peter using his baby to manipulate and corner Miles like that - It DO NOT sit right with me. It don't matter of face I'm sick to MY STOMACHHHHHHH!!!

But maybe I'M the one bugging. If I'm reading this wrong but who knows bit if he deadass ratted him out.....guitar. guitar. Hobie, the guitar!!!!

But how do you read this scene, you think he did it on purpose or nah?

Cause Lyla announcing herself like that is mad random unless he spoke to her first. She could have found him and told Miguel, but I feel like she told Peter too because he actively requested he be tracked.

Hm. HMMMM.

Thoughts, ya'll? We think he did it or nah? Let's hear what the audience thinks fr fr

#FUCK PETER B ALL MY HOBIES HATE PETER B #spiderman #atsv #marvel #spider man #across the spiderverse #peter parker #miles morales #peter B Parker #peter B hate club #across the spider verse #astv lyla #lyla #atsv analysis

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soupbabe · 5 months

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Can I request la squadra with a reader with a biting problem? NOT in a kinky way, like they basically chew on anything they can like a dog. That pen that someone lost? Readers chewing on it. The strings on your hoodie are busted? They were chewed on by reader. THANK YOU 🙏

La Squadra x Reader with a Biting Problem Headcanons

I'm so sorry for taking so long to get to this 😅😅 been focusing on other stuff lately and been forgetting to write

Formaggio

- Oh he also has a biting problem!!

- If you had a nickel for every time you saw Formaggio get ink all over him for biting a pen too hard, you'd get two nickels

- He doesn't mind your bad habit, he thinks it's adorable!

- It's not a big deal to him, just another cute quirk you both share

- Bite him he'd bite you back <3

Illuso

- He's going to act disgusted even though you know he has the same biting habit

- You'd loan him a pencil and he'd return it with the eraser accidentally bit off

- He's in complete denial about it though. Might try to convince you that you did it.

- He's a terrible liar and stubborn so it's useless trying to argue about it

- Tease him and he'd get so pouty about it, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes at you

Prosciutto

- Okay yeah I think he's the only one who doesn't share anything with you because he fears you chewing on his stuff

- And also unfortunately for you he will always be in someone's business

- He'd see you chew on the neckline of your shirt and he'd lightly scold you like "What are you, a goat? Stop it."

- I promise you he can be caring about it

- For example he cares a lot about the condition of your clothes. That's why you don't chew on it. See, he's helpful.

Pesci

- He's a chronic biter too, but he does it out of nerves!

- Constantly asks if you're okay when he sees you fidgeting and biting something

- Sure he knows you just do it when you're bored, but this man is always stressed and worries that you might be getting anxious over something too

- Pesci has a bad habit of biting his nails, thinking about you both reminding each other to break the habit!

- Pesci is just super supportive, having someone like him to help him to stop biting is a major relief

Melone

- Melone doesn't care for the most part, he just asks you to refrain from chewing around his juniors

- He doesn't like to think about the chaos that'd bring if Babyface decided to eat anything and everything they see because they wanted to copy your behavior

- But Melone is ever the teasing type, he sees you chewing on a pen or him, and he's always going to make it something more than it actually is

- Like he's the kind of guy to ask for one of your chewed up pencils just bite and lick at it, all while maintaining eye contact.

- All in the efforts to fluster, make you mad, etc. Everything you do is amusing to him

Ghiaccio

- Reader you are so lucky he likes you because it's one of his major pet peeves

- Ghiaccio doesn't like it, you will get certain privileges revoked because you chew on his things

- Things you're banned from: His pens, pencils, hoodies, erasers, literally anything in his room

- But also it irritates him that he's picked up your biting habit

- It's when he's in deep thought and working, he'll occasionally chew on a pen or bite through the wires on his headphones

Risotto

- I think he tries to mind his business about it, he doesn't outwardly say his thoughts on the biting problem, but it's telling that you have never even held one of his pens

- Risotto doesn't think it's gross, he just likes to have things without bite marks, y'know?

- Literally he only cares if it's his own stuff getting bit, with everything else he believes you and the others can talk it out

- If you're even closer to him, he may find it endearing.

- It's like seeing someone focussing with their tongue poking out, it's just a weirdly cute quirk of yours

#jjba #jojo's bizarre adventure #jjba x reader #la squadra #la squadra x reader #risotto nero #risotto nero x reader #jjba formaggio #formaggio x reader #illuso #illuso x reader #proscuitto jojo #prosciutto x reader #pesci #pesci x reader #jjba melone #melone x reader #jjba ghiaccio #ghiaccio x reader

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theminecraftbee · 9 months

Text

So, here's the thing:

Tango knows that Zedaph is this close to staging an intervention.

He lies against the wiring for Decked Out and stares at the ceiling. He should probably be more concerned about that. Early-season Tango would be concerned about that; a situation getting bad enough that Zedaph, of all people, is ready to stage an intervention is normally a sign it's gotten pretty dang bad. But he's close. He's so close. And it's not like he's worried, not anymore.

He'd been worried, once? Like, he'd been scared, at some point of what the Frozen Citadel was starting to do to him. But now that he's there--

If he's asked, Tango will say it's mutualism, and not elaborate, because if anyone stages enough of an intervention to stop Decked Out from finishing what it's started, he's probably going to scream. He's probably going to always wonder. Worst of all, he won't finish the game on time. So like, so what if it's eating him a little? Or a lot? Or basically completely, given that he's pretty sure the damage is irreversible at this point?

Anyway, it doesn't matter. Start of the season Tango probably would care more, but like, it's mutual. Decked Out gets to eat Tango. Use him as an appropriate game piece. Sometimes as a processor. To do repairs. Whatever. It's important for the whole process. And Tango gets a sick game. Which, for some, sounds like an absurd trade-off, but it's not just the game, okay?

It's not just--

If it were just "I need to let my accidentally very sentient and very large base eat me to finish the game", he might do it? But he wouldn't, like, be actively conspiring to hide the fact that he's starting to be physically incapable of breathing like, normal oxygen and stuff. He wouldn't be conspiring to hide just how literal the shop item allowing you to control the gamemaster is. He wouldn't be trying to hide how close he is to just--being another part of Decked Out. Not being a "Tango" as an individual, but being a part of the machine. Basically a really fancy redstone component.

If it were just "he's really proud and he'd be sad if it took longer", he wouldn't have hung a sheep on the outside of the building to make sure some part of Decked Out knows that Zedaph is its friend, once there isn't a Tango to remind it of that properly. He would have asked Zedaph to actually do that intervention he's planning.

He didn't. He acted like he had several more weeks than he probably did. But it's fine. Decked Out ate the fear, anyway, so he can't feel it, and whatever sense of desire to like, not be redstone component was probably eaten also, and. And.

He's not sure how to describe it in a way that doesn't make him sound insane, but--

It's so close. Decked Out is so close to eating him completely. And that should be terrifying, if that weren't the first thing that got dissolved away, if he hadn't been scared since forever. Maybe, somewhere, there's part of him that is scared. There's a lot of him that knows he should be.

But those moments, the ones he's having more and more, where he forgets he's Tango. Where he forgets he's anything but part of the machine. And he's part of something big, and great, and he has a specific use, and he's aware for all of it but not aware of being himself, and he can feel exactly how he's important to the great machine and he does his job and absolutely everything else fades away entirely and he is the Game Master and even that's not an individual identity it's part of a whole it's part of something beautiful it's part of something so, so alive while not being alive at all and, and then--and then he's not done being eaten yet. And the Tango comes in. The fear, the insecurity, the, the flaws.

And he'd just lie there, and he'd feel it. The almost-just-a-part. The sense of just--being, and not being anyone in particular, but being. The lack of self. He'd feel the voltage from the redstone wires and try to capture it again, and be unable to, not on his own.

Not while he's left as Tango, at least a little bit uneaten.

So. Uh. He told you he didn't know how to describe it without sounding insane. But he'll never forgive himself. Never forgive himself if he doesn't find out what happens when it's done. What it's like to just--be a part of Decked Out and nothing else. What it feels like to give in completely.

Therefore. Zedaph. Intervention. Pretend he's better than he is so Zedaph doesn't do that. It shouldn't be long now. The amount of time he's aware and Tango is--less. The amount of fear is--it's entirely gone now. The amount he thinks "gee beginning of season Tango would say this is a bad plan" is almost zero.

The game is almost ready to open.

If he can just hold out that long, then there won't be anything anyone could do.

They'll be too busy having fun with the game, anyway. With any luck, no one will notice.

#hermitcraft #tangotek #a bee fic #hey remember the ficlets about decked out eating tango? well.#the thing is: the obvious way decked out eats its players is by killing them. but killing tango isn't the kind of nutrients decked out need #it needs his mind. it needs his hands. it needs him to play his part.#so the easiest thing for decked out to digest away THERE would just be tango's sense of self.#so he's broken down into the most useful component part of himself to the greater organism #and it got to the fear first so he wouldn't realize quite how bad of an idea letting it finish might be.#horror #idk what kind of horror so here take the tag #anyway. this thought won't leave my head so have fun!

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wh0re43van · 5 months

Text

Reflections- (Warren Lipka X Reader)

Summary: You’re Spencer’s older sister that had to come home after getting kicked out of college. Upon the return, you’re reconnected with the walking asshole that is your brothers best friend.

Word count: 7k

Warnings: smut, weed, alcohol, mention of roofie, slow burn, hate fuck

A/n: I managed to cut this down a good bit, but this is the best I could do because I love plot I’m sorry 😭 also I’m very high so this probably isn’t proof read very well- I will be proofing it better in the near future!

I hang out my window, breathing in the night air after I take a hit off my joint. I sigh, wondering what I’m still doing in my childhood bedroom at age 21. I got kicked out of college two months ago and I still haven’t gotten my life back on track. I have a job interview lined up and I’ve been painting commissions, but I just feel like I’m 14 again. My parents made it seem like I’ve completely fucked up my life and paint me as the pot smoking-drop out, so maybe I should just embrace it.

I groan when I realize that I’ve been thinking too long and joint my has gone out. I hold my favorite zippo up to re-light it when I hear my door fly open, knocking into my dresser. I gasp, whipping around quickly as I accidentally launch my lighter across the floor in the startle. I groan in annoyance when I see my idiot brother and his even more idiotic shadow standing in my doorway.

“Close the door you fucking idiots! Mom’s down there!” I whisper angrily. Spencer pushes Warren into the room and closes the door quickly.

“Sorry,” my brother says awkwardly.

“Damn. You still smoke even after it, like, completely ruined your life?” Warren laughs, motioning to my joint.

“Oh shut up. I got caught with a single gram on campus and they made a big deal out of it; I mean come on it’s 2004 for Christ sake,” I roll my eyes, irritated that he would even bring that up, but it is Warren, so I expect nothing else. “What do you two fuck heads want?” I ask as I walk over to turn off my iPod so I can hear them better.

“Nothing! Uhm just wanted to see how the best big sister in the world is doing,” Spencer laughs unconvincingly as he attempts to lean casually against my dresser, knocking over my perfume bottles in the process. “Shit,” he mumbles as he picks the plastic bottles up off the floor. I roll my eyes, not believing him for a second. Warren looks at Spencer, scoffs, then looks back at me.

“We want you to buy us beer,” he says flatly with his hands in his pockets. I raise my brows at him, now it’s my turn to scoff.

“You come in my room, give me a heart attack, almost let mom know that I’m smoking, knock over everything on my dresser, then ask me to buy you beer?” I ask, trying to understand why they thought this was a good idea. The boys look at each other then back to me.

“Yes,” they say in unison firmly, but not confidently.

“Get the fuck out,” I sigh. Spencer mutters ‘sorry’ before turning to walk out the door. Warren closes the door behind my brother then looks at me, tilting his head to the side.

“Why are you such a bitch?” The grungy boy asks curiously. I give him a face of disgust.

“Because you go out of your way to piss me off.” I huff, stepping closer to him, sticking a finger into his chest. He smacks my hand away.

“Ew,” Warren gags dramatically. “Don’t touch me,” he mutters before turning around to open my door, flipping me off then closing it behind him.

I plop down on my bed grabbing a nice, soft pillow, then shove it to my face, letting out a blood curdling scream.

‘Why!? What the fuck did I do to deserve this?’ I think to myself. I quite literally feel like I’m back in middle school with: Dumb and Dumber constantly pestering me, Warrens stupid fucking remarks, hiding in my room with my joint, and my parents being disappointed in me. Jesus, this is all such awful déjà vu.

I Take a deep breath, then make my way to the bathroom for a long, hot shower. I walk into the hall bathroom then turn on our shower to warm up the water. I strip down then turn on the shower radio to the local rock station. To my pleasant surprise, they’re playing ‘Scum bag’ by Greenday.

‘Best infomercial purchase mom made this month,’ I think to myself as I lather up my body wash, letting out a content sigh. I finally start to relax.

Knock, knock, knock

“Y/n, I have to piss!” Warren shouts through the door. I groan, flinging the shower curtain open after turning off the water.

“Hold it, Butt-fuck! I just got in,” I shout back in annoyance. He bangs on the door again.

“Just let me in!” His voice is muffled coming through the wood.

“No, Warren!” I huff, wondering how one boy could be so annoying. “Piss outside!” I scream over the music, then turn the water back on and resume my shower. His knocking continues for another minute or two, but he eventually gives up.

I finish my shower in peace then wrap the towel around myself. I quickly run to my room and close the door behind me.

“What the fuck!” I shout when I see warren standing in my closet with his hands behind his back.

“Don’t you know it’s rude not to knock?” he snickers. I scowl at him, holding the short white towel to my body as tight as possible.

“It’s my- What the hell are you doing in here?” I ask exasperated as I step towards him.

“Spencer says you do that nerdy makeup shit for ren fairs or whatever, and I need to borrow your supplies,” he sighs, sounding irritated even though he’s the one snooping though my stuff. I fiddle with my towel, uncomfortable at how his gaze keeps wondering down to where the fabric ends, barely long enough to cover my ass.

“What the fuck do you need that for?” I frown, not understanding why on earth he would need special effects makeup. His eyes follow a trickle of water that drips from my hair down my chest and between my breasts. I shift awkwardly, wishing that this interaction would end already.

“That’s not important,” he steps towards me. “Just let me see what you have,” he says simply with his hands in his pant pockets. I groan in frustration.

“No, you fart-catcher! I just caught you going through my shit, get out!” I scream, stomping my foot in anger, which causes the towel to slide off my breast a bit. I quickly pull it back into place, my cheeks burn pink from embarrassment and anger. Warrens eyes flutter from my chest up to my face, his lips curl into a small smirk.

“Alright,” he shrugs before walking towards my door. With his back to me, he takes his wallet out of his pocket and drops it on the floor. “Y/n,” he tisks, looking at me over his shoulder with that ever familiar mischievous glint in his dark eyes. “Would you pick that up for me? I can’t bend over, I hurt my back at my last game,” he asks with mock sincerity, his gaze focused on how short the towel is. He knows if I bend over my entire ass will be exposed. I look at him with pursed lips, furrowed brows, and bright pink cheeks, letting out an irritated sigh. He grins at how successfully he’s pissed me off.

I stomp over and open my bedroom door, then stomp back to his wallet, kicking it as hard as I can out the doorway and down the steps.

“Get out!” I seethe as I shove the snickering idiot out of my room, locking the door behind me. I groan, flopping down face first onto my bed. I lay there a minute, before deciding to smoke a bowl and get my pajamas on.

I retrieve my bowl and my stash from its old hiding spot behind my bookshelf.

I break up the weed and pack the small bowl, then I realize that I cant find my lighter. I check my bag again, then look around my window and on the floor. I let out a loud groan, kicking my nightstand in anger. My nerves are completely shot, this minor inconvenience is about to send me on a rampage.

With a defeated sigh, I grab a cheap Bic lighter out of my purse. I wouldn’t care so much if it wasn’t my favorite lighter. The silver zippo was a gift from an ex-boyfriend. He had my name engraved on one side and the skull and bat wings from the cover of the Avenged Sevenfolds ‘Waking the Fallen’ album on the other. It’s the single coolest possession I have.

I grab my iPod off the speaker, then hook my headphones into it before climbing out my window onto my roof. With the cheap plastic lighter I take a hit then lay back on the cool shingles, my muscles relaxing as Rob Zombie plays in my ears. I close my eyes as the crescent moon shines her white light down on my face. I take another hit, sighing happily as I get comfortable. Finally, some peace.

‘Hold on,’ I shoot up, furrowing my brow in thought. ‘I dropped my lighter when numbnuts busted into my room. I never picked it up, and when I caught warren in here, he had something behind his back… Warren,’ my epiphany makes my ears burn red.

“Goddamn it Warren!” I shout, completely fed up with his shit, as I clamber back through my window. “Why the fuck is that shit head here all the time,” I mumble to myself as I put my bowl away. I spray some air freshener and close my window before stomping down the hallway, barging into my brothers room. Warren sits by himself in Spencer’s bed, playing some stupid video game on the PlayStation- my brother no where in sight.

“Where is it?” I bellow, standing between warren and the tv like an angry mother. I hold my hand out in front of his face as if the little asshole would just hand it over.

“Dude! Get out of the way!” Warren groans, his eyes not even meeting mine as he uses his foot to scoot me out over, but he knocks me off my balance and I fall directly on top of him.

“Warren!” I squeal, managing to catch myself with my arms on either side of his head. We exchange a shocked look before that stupid, sly smirk creeps onto his face, reminding me that I’m furious at him. “Give me my shit!” I shout in his face, hovering over top of him.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he shrugs, his smirk never faltering. This is it. He’s going to make me snap. I grab his shirt pulling his face up to mine, my face flushed In anger.

“I see through your little act,” I say through gritted teeth, almost in a whisper. He looks at me with wide eyes. “You act like you’re hot shit. You think that just because you sell a little green on the side and pocket other peoples shit that you’re a man, but you’re so far from it. You’re just a 19 year old boy who still needs his daddy to wipe his ass for him,” I all but spit into his face, leaning closer with every syllable. His face slowly contorts into pure rage. He stands up from the bed and pushes my back against the wall.

Warrens hostile glare burns deep into my eyes as his hands grip my shoulders so hard that his knuckles turn white. The drywall is cool on my hot skin as warren peers down on me, making me feel so small in his grasp.

“You don’t know shit about me, bitch!” Warren says in a tone that I’ve never heard from him before- he nearly growls at me. This shows that I’ve seriously pissed him off; I smile up at him, unable to hold back the joy- and a bit of excitement - bubbling in my stomach. His lips are pulled in a straight line, nostrils flared and his jaw locked as he grips onto my shirt, making his biceps flex.

“Unfortunately, I know you very well, Warren. Your entire life you’ve been putting up this front of false confidence. Always thinking you’re special, somehow always convincing yourself that the rules don’t apply to you; You’re a pathetic burn out,” I say simply, batting my lashes up at him, enjoying the reaction- and our proximity. His nostrils flare as he pounds his fists on either side of my head.

“You’re the fucking burn out!” He raises his voice, a bit of spit lands on my face as the harsh words drip from his tongue. I reach my hand up, wiping the salvia off.

“Yeah, but I can admit it,” I whisper as I lean up to his flushed face, our noses brushing against each other. I do mu best to ignore the stirring in my stomach when our skin touches. Warren glances down at my lips, his chest still heaving with anger and his arms resting by my head. His angry eyes meet mine. The moonbeam coming through the window illuminates half of warrens face in a white light. I just now notice how much he’s changed. How mature he looks now, especially when he has me backed against the wall with a death grip on my shoulders. He just begins to dip his head down when the bedroom door swings open.

“Sorry man, mom wanted help with- Woah…” Spencer pauses, almost dropping the snacks from his arms. Warren jumps back, the rage on his face replaced with shock as my brother looks between us with a slack jaw. Warren clears his throat awkwardly.

“You need to control your sister, dude,” he gives me a dirty look, walking up and taking a bag of Cheetos from Spencer. I step away from the wall, adjusting my outfit.

‘What the fuck just happened?’

“Uhm, no. Spencer you need to control your friend. He’s a fucking klepto! He took the lighter kyle got for me!” I explain as I point accusingly at Warren who’s already settled into the bed, munching on the junk food

“Oh, you mean the guy that cheated on you?” he asks before he takes a sip out of a two liter of dr. pepper. “Twice,” he adds before letting out a gross belch. I look at him in disgust, then in offense. My ears burn red in anger once again. I let out an irritated grunt as I push past spencer towards the door.

“So it’s no then?” Spencer asks, stopping me in my tracks.

“What?” I ask as I turn to face him. My brother glances between Warren and me.

“You’re not gonna help us?” Spencer asks, looking confused.

“Spencer what the hell are you talking about?” I groan, still upset about what was happened with Warren.

“He didn’t even-“ Spencer scoffs, turning to look at Warren. “You didn’t even ask her?” He asks his friend. Warren just shrugs as he picks up the PlayStation controller.

“For the last time I am not getting you idiots beer,” I groan.

“No! We need your makeup skills,” Spencer explains. Warren stands up from the bed, stomping in disapproval.

“We don’t need her. We just need the makeup,” he groans nudging Spencer a bit. I look at the boys in extreme confusion.

“Explain,” I sigh, rolling my eyes.

“We’re Uhm, doing a project and we were wondering if you could make us look like old men,” Spencer says avoiding eye contact, scratching the back of his neck. He’s acting even weirder than normal.

“Uhm, yeah. Hypothetically I could if I had the proper products,” I say putting my hands on hips, wondering where this conversation is going.

“No. We just need the products we don’t need you,” Warren whines, seeming even more admit on keeping me out of their plans than usual.

“Okay whatever. Give me the money and I’ll get you guys the shit tomorrow evening,” I sigh.

‘I’m such a good big sister’

“Well we have that party with Chas tomo-“ Spencer starts but Warren slaps his hand over my brothers face.

“Party?” My ears perk up.

“No,” Warren says sternly. “We’re not bringing your lame ass to the party of the year,” he groans.

“No party, no makeup,” I shrug, crossing my arms. Spencer pulls Warren’s hand away from his face.

“Deal,” Spencer smiles. Warren gives him a death glare as I skip out of the room.

The next evening I’m stood in front of my closet sifting through my clothes. I have to admit that I’m excited to be getting dressed up. I settle on black denim mini skirt, studded belt and a cropped and distressed Misfits shirt. I take the time to do my makeup, smudging the black pencil liner around my eyes and applying a burgundy lip stick.

“Y/n come on!” I hear Warren shout from outside. I run over and stick my head out my open window.

“I’m coming!” I holler before slamming the glass shut, then shove my smoke bag into my purse.

I hop down the steps, skipping past my mother.

“I’ve never seen you so excited to go somewhere with those two,” my mom attempts a joke as I slip on my beat up converse.

“Free alcohol,” I shrug with a smirk before skipping out the front door.

“Y/n,” my mother’s disappointed voice gets cut off by the heavy wood slamming shut. I giggle to myself as I run to Chas’s car. I hear the door open again and my brothers foot steps approaching behind me.

“Come on guys were so late!” the meat head shouts from the driver’s seat window. My brother and I scramble into the car. Before I realize it, I’m sandwiched in between Warren and spencer with Chas and some nerdy guy in the front.

As I search around for the middle seatbelt, I notice warren staring at me. he’s wearing a white t-shirt that fits him very well with a pair of light, baggy blue jeans. It appears that he even took the time to brush his hair. He almost looks good.

“What?” I scowl at warren, wondering why he’s looking at me like that. He clears his throat, shaking his head a bit as if he didn’t realize he was ogling at me.

“J-just wondering why you let a clown do your makeup,” he laughs. I huff then punch him in the arm as hard as I can, causing warren to scream out.

“See this is-” I start to shout but I’m cut off when Chas whips his steering wheel sharply, sending me flying toppling into warren and causing warren to hit his head on the window.

“Shut up!” Chas groans. Warren and I exchange angry looks as we settle back into our seats, the rest of the ride is quiet.

The house packed full of sweaty college kids bumping and grinding into each other. The smell of alcohol and B.O flood my senses as I shimmy my way through the sea of kids packed in the narrow hallway. I finally make it to the kitchen where a bunch of frat boys are shot gunning beer. Girls surround them, completely wasted but doing their best to root for whichever guy they’re planning on fucking tonight. The loud, shitty, pop music rings through my ears as I step closer to the commotion. A tall blonde guy from the back of the group turns to me, looking me up and down with a grin.

“Hey you want in?” He holds his hand out, offering me a Budweiser. I consider it, but decide that I don’t want to be covered in beer all night.

“Uh, nah,” I nudge his hand away from me. He is cute though. “But I’ll cheer you on,” I smirk, looking up at the random guy, holding up my house key. The boy grins from ear to ear, taking the key out of my hand. He punctures the can before quickly opening the tab, downing the beer almost professionally. I cheer the boy on with words of encouragement. He drops the can to the floor then holds his hands up with a righteous scream, the crowd goes wild. He turns to me, wiping his face then slings his arm over my shoulder.

“Wow, I’m impressed,” I laugh. He adjusts his crooked snap-back as he leads me to the dance floor.

“Yeah you should be,” he chuckles as he guides me through the crowd of dancing bodies.

We dance for a few songs, slowly getting more handsy with each other. As my back bumps against him to the beat of the song, I make eye contact with Warren from across the room. He has a drink in one hand and his other on a girls waist as she kisses on his neck.

To my surprise, rather than looking away, he holds my gaze his he runs his hand down her back, grabbing her ass. I fight back a blush that attempts to creep onto my cheeks by averting my gaze.

‘Disgusting.’ I mentally barf as I turn my back to warren, wrapping my hands around the boys neck, his hands instinctively fall to my hips. He leans closer to my ear as we dance lazily in step with the beat.

“So what’s your name?” the boy shouts over the music.

“Y/n,” I answer, smiling up at him. “What about you, shotgun champion?” I giggle.

“Ethan,” he smiles. “Well, y/n, I’m going to go get you a drink,” he winks. I smile, thanking him. Once I tun back around, I notice that warren and the girl are gone.

‘Damn, that dude moves quick,’ I wonder how he manages to get girls to sleep with him so fast when he’s so insufferable and annoying. I dance by myself for a bit as I await Ethan’s return.

“Here you go,” Ethan smiles, handing me a red solo cup full of what appears to be spiked Hawaiian punch. I smile, thanking him as I accept the sickeningly sweet drink. I hold the plastic to my lips, but before I can take a sip, it’s knocked out of my hands. The cold liquid spills down my shirt before the cup hits the ground.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I hear the familiar tone of Warrens voice shout as he shoves Ethan against the living room wall. Everyone around us stops, turning to see what fight is about to break out. My cheeks burn red in anger and embarrassment.

“Waren what-” I manage to shout in the confusion. “You’re such a fucking asshole!” I shriek, completely fed up with his bullshit. I stomp towards the staircase, all eyes on me as crimson punch drips down my chest and legs. I open every door in the hallway until I find the bathroom.

I slam the door behind me before leaning onto the sink, looking at myself in the mirror. I scream out in frustration, my pulse beating to the bass of the music downstairs.

“What the fuck is wrong with Warren?” I complain to myself as I grab a handful of paper towels, attempting to absorb the drink that has soaked into my outfit. I pause when I hear the doorknob turning behind me. I watch Warrens figure appears in the bathroom mirror.

“Are you okay?” he asks as he steps towards me. His tone.. it almost sounds... concerned. I ignore his possible sincerity and instead throw the sopping wet paper towels at him.

“No, I’m not fucking okay! You ruined my outfit!” I scowl at him. His once concerned expression quickly contorts into the ever familiar annoyed glower he’s always dawning in my presence.

“You’re so fucking stupid y/n!” Warren shouts, stepping closer to me. The yellow lights highlight his clenched jaw. My mouth widens in disbelief.

“Excuse me?” I ask, now pissed off even more. Warren leans back, pushing his hair out of his face then groans in irritation.

“You almost got fucking roofied y/n! I knew that guy was bad news. I happened to be walking past the kitchen when I saw him drop something into your drink!” he explains while pacing in front of me. I roll my eyes, not believing him.

“Oh come on! You expect me to believe that? With your track record, I have every reason to believe that you were just being an immature asshole finding a way to fuck with me,” I step up to him, looking into his eyes that are flooded with frustration.

“Are you fucking- I just saved your ass big time!” Warren shouts, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

“Oh please,” I roll my eyes, crossing my arms, too angry to look at him. Warren sticks an angry finger in my face.

“You are such an ungrateful fucking brat,” he says lowly, his tone sends chills down my spine. He grips my jaw, turning my head to look up at him. The angry boy glowers down at me, his face just inches from mine. “Say thank you,” he demands through gritted teeth. I roll my eyes once again.

“Fuck. You.” I whisper looking directly into his apoplectic eyes. After a beat, he grips my jaw even harder, yanking may lips to his. I freeze in shock for just a second before returning the instantly bruising kiss. I wrap my arms around his neck, suddenly desperate for his touch. Within seconds, years of pent-up aggression and sexual tension finally comes to a head.

“You piss me off so much,” he growls against my lips as his hands grip my ass so tight it hurts, making me bite back a whimper. “Jump,” his voice comes out a gruff whisper. I obey, jumping to wrap my legs around his waist as he backs me against the wall, his lips never parting from mine. His nails dig into my thighs as he begins to grind against my crotch, the friction making me moan lightly against his lips. Anger and lust course through my veins as I tighten my legs around him, forcing his hips closer to mine. As much as I want to hate this, the truth is that I’ve never wanted any man more than I want warren right now. I’m disgusted with myself, but oh so desperate for the boy I’ve despised most of my life.

“Fuck, I hate how much I want this,” I whine desperately against his lips, pulling away only to slip off my shirt. Warren chuckles before setting me onto my feet. His chest heaves as he strips himself of his white t shirt.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to see you like this,” he says softly, his eyes following his hand as it glides gently over my body. I shiver under his touch as his fingers easily undo my bra, I allow it to fall to the ground. His eyes meet mine as he undoes his belt. “Bend over,” Warren smirks, motioning to the counter top. Biting back a smile, I happily turn around, resting my elbows on the counter. I spread my legs and wiggle my ass, knowing that he has a full view of panties under my mini skirt. I feel his hand push the denim fabric up, then he slides my underwear down my legs, leaving me exposed to him.

“Holy shit,” he groans quietly as he dips a finger into my sopping heat. He drags my slick up to rub circles on my clit. I bite my lip in attempt to hold back a whimper. “Is it me that you’re this wet for, or do you just have some weird degradation kink?” he asks as he slips a finger in my entrance, I gasp at the contact.

“Oh shut the-“ I begin, but cut myself off with a loud moan as his hand comes down harshly on my ass, the slap rings through the bathroom.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he laughs as he slips another finger in, pumping faster. His other hand brushes over the stinging handprint left on my ass. I whimper at how good it hurts.

I hate how right he is. I hate how much he’s enjoying this. I hate how he knows exactly where to curl his fingers inside me to earn the loudest moan. “Mm that’s the prettiest sound that’s ever come out of your mouth,” he chuckles as he reaches his other hand around to toy with my clit. I arch my back, biting my lip in an attempt to keep the symphony of pleasure from spilling from my mouth. I’m trying desperately not give him the satisfaction of praise, but it’s proving to be impossible.

“You’re such a dick,” I say lowly, unable to think of a good comeback as my eyes flutter shut, that familiar tension in my stomach building.

Warren pulls away completely, leaving me feeling empty and irritated. I stand up with a frown, spinning around to yell at him, but he grabs my arm and my waist, repositioning me back over the counter.

“Uh uh,” he chuckles using one hand to grip my hair, holding my head up so that I can see him in the mirror. With the other hand, he drops his pants and boxers, giving his- much larger than expected- length a few good bumps. My knees buckle at the sight behind me. “You’re gonna stay just like this and watch me fuck you,” he growls as he uses his foot to kick my legs a bit further apart. I watch his reflection as he brings his fingers up to his mouth, spitting on them before spreading the slick gently over my folds. As he lines his length up with my entrance, he holds my gaze through the mirror, sliding into me slowly. He lets out a loud groan, his grip on my hair tightening.

The way that he fills me up is unlike any other. Squeezing my eyes shut, I do my best to hold back my whimpers as I adjust to his size. He gives me only a few seconds before he starts slamming into me.

“Fuck!” I scream in shock as I clasp my hands over my mouth. Warrens strong grip is soon ripping my fingers away from my face.

“Now You’re want to be quiet? After all the times I’ve told you shut this pretty mouth of yours…” he grabs my cheeks, sticking a finger in my mouth as he rams his cock into me. “Now you want to hold back?” He lets out a devilish chuckle, before slapping my ass even harder than last time. He uses my hair to pull my head up making sure that I’m watching him.

His strong grip holds tightly onto my hair and my waist, making the veins very prominent in his arms. His toned torso glistens in a thin sheet of sweat as his hips buck mercilessly into me. My toes curl when I see the way he’s watching me. His eyes are dark with lust as they study every feature of my body in the mirror. His jaw hangs slack, but there’s a never faulting smirk on his face as if this is something he’s been waiting on for a while.

He releases my hair to reach down and rub figure eights onto my sensitive bundle of nerves. That and they way that he’s hitting the perfect spot with every deep thrust and the way he looks at me is enough to send me over the edge.

“Fuck! Warren!” I moan out in such a pathetic tone that I can’t believe it came from my own mouth. My legs begin to shake and breathing becomes shallow as I clench around him.

“That’s it baby. Scream my name in pleasure for a change,” he growls in my ear. My eyes are clenched shut, but I can hear the smirk in his voice. If the music wasn’t playing 100 decibels over OSHA standards and every single person wasn’t black out drunk, I might be concerned that someone might hear us.

“Oh god… fuck Warren! I’m cumming please don’t stop! Just like that please!” My words come out a desperate whine with each breath punctuated by his hips thrusting into me as I come undone around him. My legs give out as pure euphoria floods my system. My eyes roll back in my head as Warren holds me up with help from counter.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he grunts out, his thrusts becoming sloppy and erratic as low growls and moans slip out between his heavy breaths.

Warren pulls out of me as I lay with my head down on the cool counter trying to collect my thoughts. I feel him release onto my back. The warm seed dripping down my ass as strings of profanities fall from Warrens kiss bruised lips.

“Holy shit,” he pants out in a whisper. I hold my head up to see him in the mirror behind me, leaning against the wall with his eyes closed. His chest rising and falling quickly as he wipes sweat from his forehead. As if he could feel me looking, he opens his eyes. That stupid fucking smirk quickly returning on his flushed face. He watches his cum drip down my ass and onto the floor. He silently walks to the toilet paper, then- to my surprise- he cleans me up. Silently, with a content smile, he wipes himself off me.

“Uh, thanks,” I say shyly with a bit of red creeping up to my cheeks. I find my underwear and slip them back on as Warren puts his pants on.

“Don’t mention it,” he winks, very obviously proud of himself.

“So uhm,” I start as I slide my dress back on. I don’t even know how to act; I feel so awkward and it’s pissing me off how casual Warren is being. “Do we just chalk this up to the alcohol?” I rub my neck awkwardly as Warren pulls his shirt over his head. He lets out a light laugh.

“Well I’m not drunk. Are you?” He asks, already knowing the answer. I shake my head no as find my sticky, stained skirt and step into it. Warren chuckles, walking up behind me looking at our reflections in the mirror. “Well, on the bright side I made your make look better,” he laughs with a wink, motioning at the mascara running down my face and burgundy lipstick smudged around my mouth.

“Oh fuck off!” I huff, shoving him. He slaps my ass one last time before opening the door and stepping out. I look at myself in the mirror, waiting for the feeling of disgust to overcome my body… but it never comes. As I wet a paper towel and attempt to make my face look presentable, I can’t help but smile. The smile turns to a giggle. The giggle turns to a loud laugh. I cannot begin to explain or even understand what I’m feeling, but pure joy is bubbling through my body. It must be some kind of weird post nut clarity.

I grab my purse then step out the door, expecting Warren to be gone, but to my pleasant surprise, he’s leaning over the banister right outside the bathroom.

“What are you doing?” I ask as I step up beside him, assuming the same position.

“Trying to spit in people’s drinks,” he says flatly, not looking my way before a blob of spit falls from his mouth, landing on some random girls forehead. She looks around in drunken confusion, unable to identify the source. “Hey bonus points,” he laughs, turning to me with his hands held up in victory. I roll my eyes, but I’m unable to hide the smile that creeps onto my face.

“I uhm- I think I’m gonna walk home. I need a shower,” I tell him awkwardly. I’m so unsure of how to act now and him being so normal isn’t helping.

“Oh, I’ll walk you,” he says, putting his hands in his pockets. I look at him in confusion.

“What?” I ask, unsure if I heard him correctly.

“I’m going to walk you home, dumbass,” he shrugs taking step, expecting me to follow behind him- I do, of course.

We push through the crowds of dancing kids and out the front door. My ears ring as we step out onto the empty street, the silence is quite the change from the loud frat party behind us.

We walk in almost comfortable silence. My house is about a 40 minute walk away, but it seems so much shorter as I’ve been using the time to sort out my emotions- which I’m not having much success with.

I grab my cell phone out of my pocket, texting Spencer that I’m headed home so that he doesn’t worry.

“Who are you texting?” Warren asks simply as if he’s been trying to find something to start a conversation. He pulls a pack of menthols out of his pocket, holding the box towards me. I smile, taking one of the sticks and popping it into my mouth.

“Spencer. I figure I should let him know where I went,” I explain as we walk down the dim and empty sidewalk. The cool late summer air makes the orange flame flicker in the wind as it illuminates Warrens face in the evening dusk. The end of his cigarette glows a dark crimson as he lets out a puff of smoke. He stops, then looks down at me as he rests his fingers on my cheek, his other hand bringing the lighter up to my cigarette. I stare up at him, admiring how the orange light highlights his handsome features. The flame reflects in his dark eyes that are fixated on my lips. I breath in, igniting the cig.

“Thanks,” I smile, exhaling through my nose as we resume our walk.

“Ya know, I really did save your life back there,” Warren grins with a nudge from the same hand that’s holding his cigarette.

“You actually saw that dude slip something in my drink?” I ask, looking at him with raised brows.

“Yep. That girl I was dancing with was leading me up to one of the bedrooms when I saw the douche go into the kitchen. The dude looked the type, so I followed him in there, sure enough as he was walking away from the table, he slipped a tablet in your cup,” he shrugs as he takes a long drag.

It takes me a minute to process his words. It seems that he was actually looking out for me.

“But… Why? I thought you hated me. Now you’re saying that you left a hot girl who was trying to get in your pants just to make sure I was safe,” I ask. That seriously doesn’t sound like the Warren I know. Then again, I wouldn’t have expected the Warren I know to dick me down at a frat party either.

“Y/n I obviously don’t hate you. And even if I did, I still wouldn’t have let that guy drug you. I’m not that kind of guy,” he says, sounding a bit offended that I thought that of him. I’m seeing a part of Warren tonight that I had no idea existed. We approach my house, tossing our cigarette butts in the trash can beside the mailbox.

“No, I know, Warren,” I smile downwards, looking away from his stern gaze. “You’re actually a pretty good guy,” I laugh nervously. He grins as he leans against his car that’s parked on the curb right outside my home.

“I’m really glad you said that right now. I’m also glad that since I saved you, we’re even,” he smiles as he walks around to his driver door, reaching into his pocket. I stand on the sidewalk, looking at him confused.

“What Are You-“ he tosses me something, I instinctively catch it, clamping it between my two hands. I raise an eyebrow, almost afraid to see what’s in my hands. Warren chuckles as he gets in his car, starting it up as his radio starts blaring his ‘The Offspring’ CD.

I bend forward, he rolls down the passenger window. I look down into my hands to see my favorite lighter broken. The top of the zippo snapped off from the base. My expression falls, rage flooding my senses.

“Warren!” I scream, more pissed off at him then I’ve ever been. He quickly reminded me of why it is that I hate him so much.

“Yeah, my bad,” he laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. “You should really keep your stuff picked up off the floor,” he shrugs. I can’t even form a sentence right now. I knew this dumbass took my lighter. “Now get inside so I can leave,” he says motioning with his hand towards the door. I’m so shocked and exhausted- physically and emotionally- from tonight’s events that I just turn and leave. My face still contorted in anger, I silently walk up the steps and into my house.

Out of curiosity, I glance out the window at Warren. He waits a couple seconds after I shut the door to pull out of his parallel parking spot. I sigh, leaning against the door.

This was the strangest night of my life

#evan peters #evan peters smut #ahs cult #ahs hotel #jimmy darling smut #kai anderson #kit walker smut #ahs asylum #ahs fandom #ahs murder house #warren lipka smut #warren lipka #quicksilver smut #peter maximoff smut #peter maximoff #james patrick march #kai anderson smut #tate langdon smut

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amizuki · 28 days

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it will be forever funny to me how the flashback portraits of Wittebrothers made Caleb seem like he's had packing peanuts for a brain

(this post ended up becoming quite lengthy, and so did the tags somehow, because I kinda devolved into a rant closer to the end of writing this whole thing, so bear with me here)

so we know that Philip and Caleb became orphans when both of them were still kids. after that, they ended up in Gravesfield and, to fit in with everyone else who lived there, picked up witch hunting and started thinking that witches are pure evil. Caleb knew perfectly well that he's the only family Philip's had left and that he even may be his his only friend, since, judging by the portraits, they've only ever hung out with each other and we don't know if those two ever made any other actual friends.

until one day, during a witch hunt he and Philip were both a part in (something Caleb seemed happy to do, judging by his smirk there), he met a witch – Evelyn – someone he's been taught to hate and want dead by the townsfolk. someone who, again, in his mind, should be evil.

but he just suddenly does a 180 and goes "damn, you can make fire with your hands, you're actually pretty cool"

and then a few days (?) of talking to her later, he's running off to live with her in the Demon Realm, while simultaneously not giving a single fuck about the brother he's abandoning.

(he even runs off with a smile, with a literal :D face, I fucking can't lmao)

Philip ends up seeing Caleb get dragged off through a weird portal and later follows along, thinking something like "no, my brother wouldn't just up and abandon me without saying anything. he probably got captured by that witch we saw together that one time! she probably used some demon magic to bewitch Caleb and took him through that portal to kill him or worse! I gotta go save him!". and, after spending god knows how long in that realm, searching endlessly for his missing older brother, he eventually finds him. but he also finds that Caleb is not only perfectly okay and not hurt in the slightest, he's also peacefully walking together with the same witch who "captured" him, even holding hands with her.

and when enraged Philip tries to attack Evelyn, to protect Caleb from the witch who took him from his home, from his brother, still thinking that Caleb's under her control, Caleb just... gives him a hug and goes on to introduce the witch as his new wife to him (I'm assuming that portrait is the same day as the other three, if not the same scene), also adding on top of that that they're having a child. all as if nothing happened. treating the whole thing like everything's perfectly okay and just another normal day, fully ignoring the fact that he threw his brother away with no care or thought, leaving him completely alone, a full orphan, now with zero actual family left (in TTT, during their backstory, it's said that "Caleb did his best to take care of his younger brother", meaning that either they never got adopted in Gravesfield, or whoever adopted them didn't give a shit about the two, so they still mostly had to fend for themselves), all to go smash some random 5 out of 10 witchussy he talked to, like, 3 times. no fucking wonder Philip killed him!

(btw, jokes aside, it didn't seem like he intended to kill Caleb, because in that portrait where he's ready to kill with a knife in his hand, he's facing forward, while Caleb is actually to his left. so it just looks to me like Philip was gonna try to kill Evelyn again, and Caleb either jumped in front of her to protect her and got accidentally stabbed or he attacked Philip back, to, again, protect Evelyn, and Philip ended up winning that fight. but that's just my theory)

my brother in literal christ and literal titan – why in the FUCK are you just hugging it out with a smile on your face??? you ran off while giving absolutely no warning to anyone, especially your younger brother! why do you think he's here and actively trying to attack you and your new wife? you're not even trying to address the fact that you left him! at least when Luz ran off to a different realm without warning, she had a "I'm still at the camp" cover, so Camila wouldn't worry that much about where her daughter is, and even then she still felt bad for leaving her mother and planned to go back home once summer was over. this chucklefuck, on the other hand, just permanently portaled away to the Boiling Isles, knocked up a witch and fully settled down there, walking around with a big ol' smile and no care in the world. "Philip who? never heard of him"

the only thing that would sorta make this situation seem better (as in, not make Caleb seem like an overly naive ignorant brick), in my opinion, is if they added one more portrait – after the one where he meets the witch, but before the one where he leaves. in that portrait, Caleb would look like he's trying his best to convince Philip that witches aren't actually evil, and perhaps even try to get him to go live with them in the Demon Realm, all the while Philip's looking at him with either disagreement/disappointment/disgust or just rolling his eyes and full on ignoring him, while sharpening his witch hunt tools or something. then it would look like Caleb at least tried to make his brother change his mind, like he tried to offer him a chance to go with them. but no. with the way the portraits look in the final version it just seems like Caleb was fully on-board with killing witches since he was young, even pulling his younger brother along to think the same way, Philip also thought that Caleb was perfectly fine with killing witches, but once he actually meets a real witch (assuming they've never met one before) he instantly pulls an uno reverse card and just runs off with her, without so much as telling his brother beforehand.

I'm not trying to say that "Belos should've been redeemed, because he's the victim here and Caleb is bad and it's all his fault". he still murdered his brother and went on to manipulate everyone on Boiling Isles for centuries, with his end goal being the death of all witches, while simultaneously being stuck in the loop of "denial" and "bargaining" stages of grief – repeatedly trying and failing to recreate a perfect copy of Caleb, but also killing each one that came out wrong or went against him. Belos not being redeemed in the end was the right choice (ignoring the "Belos was always le bad" from King's dad), I agree with that. frankly, if he actually got redeemed in the end, I'd probably be seething for the next 3 to 5 years, like how I did after the Diamonds' "redemptions" in SU (yes I'm still pissed about that lol). I'm just saying that, from what was shown to us, Caleb didn't seem like that good of a person either, not as bad as Belos ended up being, but still not that great. and, once again, seemingly had a raisin for a brain.

(off topic, but during Masha's retelling of Wittebane's backstory, their "sounds like big bro got a hot witch girlfriend and little bro got upset" line was so fucking cringe, it gave me a fever for 3 days the first time I watched the episode)

k, rant over, I dunno what else to add

TL;DR: I think Caleb was dumb as a brick, because, from what was shown to us in their backstory, he seemed to have run off to Demon Realm and abandon Philip without telling him anything beforehand. when Philip came to BI to look for his brother, who he assumed was under control of the witch who "took" him, since he thought his last living family member wouldn't just abandon him, and when he eventually found him, and it turned out he wasn't in any danger at all, Caleb just brushed the whole "I left you for witchussy" thing under the rug and pretended everything was and is perfectly fine, even though it clearly isn't. rip bozo

#toh critical #toh criticism #big ol' rant here lol #ever since we saw those portraits I've always thought it was kinda weird how Caleb just ran off with no warning #I thought it'd be adressed in the 3rd season at some point #like maybe there'd be a scene of Belos and Hunter talking #and Belos starts getting angry and going on a rant #“you're ALWAYS leaving me Caleb! and for what? for a witch you've just met?!” or something like that #and after Belos started hallucinating Caleb's ghost I instead thought there'd be a scene of him talking directly to it instead of Hunter #but nah it all just kinda got thrown away #and Belos turned into “always been le bad” kaiju #meanwhile Hunter is just 404 not found #lol #lmao even #rant #♤mizu.txt

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frogserotonin · 1 year

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Hiiii, I badly need more Anthony Lockwood x reader on this app so could you do one where reader joins the agency and there are immediate sparks between her and lockwood (he's always flirting with her, he always does small things for her and he always protects her first in a mission) and one day he gets really injured trying to save her during their missions and at home she's really worried when patching him up and they end up confessing to eachother after they have a mini argument. Then they kiss and make up or makeout 😘

god yeah anon, i get what you mean, the reason im writing is literally bc i need more fanfic 😭 i have read every fucking lockwood x reader on here and ao3 if ya'll want anything written just ask :D - lots of love, mars

everything - anthony lockwood x reader

warnings: violence, ooc, kissing, cursing

You weren’t exactly sure when it had started, this weird tension between you and Anthony Lockwood. It was an odd thing that the both of you left unspoken about, despite the numerous jokes, comments and questions from Lucy and George.

Maybe it had been when you’d first joined the agency. When he’d opened the door to see who was knocking and gone completely slack jawed at the sight of you, before collecting himself and adorning his prize-winning smirk.

“Well hello love, how may we help you?” he’d said, casually resting against the doorframe.

“Are you Lockwood of Lockwood and Co?” your cheeks had reddened from the cold and nothing else. Most definitely not because of the casual pet name he’d thrown in.

“That would indeed be me.” he nodded, easy smirk still resting on his lips. “I assume you’re here for an interview then, come on in and we’ll get you sorted.”

After you’d passed the interview with flying colours, he’d told you how much he looked forward to working with you with a wink and a charming toothy grin. Even now, your heart rate went up a considerable amount every time you saw that fucking smile.

Maybe it had been your first case, when you and Lockwood had had to hide from a very persistent Type Two and you’d dragged Lockwood into the nearest open room and shoved him into the wall. You’d pinned him there with one hand on his arm, pressing it to the wall, and the other over his mouth. Afterwards he’d tried to charm his way out of your teasing his red face.

You didn’t know when it’d started but far out, you knew that it was there and that if nothing happened soon you might just kiss him the next time he speaks.

~~~

“George, Luce, angel, we’ve got a new case.” Lockwood called from the hall, placing the phone down and smiling widely. (Damn that smile, it made your heart weak and your brain fuzzy) “We’re going as soon as possible so it’s best we get ready as fast as we can.”

And that was that. You all packed the necessities, like you always did. You all loaded into a taxi and waited patiently until you were at the clients house, like you always did. Lockwood checked with you to see if you had everything you needed, like he always did.

“George!” Lucy called from her place halfway up the stairs. “Come with me, we need to check out the drawing room you read about.” You almost missed the wink she directed your way.

Great, now you and Lockwood were alone. Fan-fucking-tastic.

“Shall we?” he offered his hand and pulled you towards some of the creepier looking closed doors, not-so-discreetly pulling you behind him. Slowly he opens the furthest door, nothing happens. You open the second door, and suddenly you’re thrown against the wall.

“Y/N!” Lockwood cried, pulling his rapier out and swinging it at the ghost that’d materialised. For a bit he succeeded in pushing it back, allowing you time to reorient yourself, before he too was thrown away from the ghost, his rapier landing near his head. You groaned and hauled yourself up, grabbing your own rapier and stabbing at the ghost. It disappeared, then reappeared behind you, causing you to swing around wildly, accidentally putting yourself in the ghosts close vicinity. You felt your limbs start to lock up as you held eye contact with your doom, hoping and praying that Lucy and George had found the source and were covering it with the silver net. The ghost moved closer and closer to you, and you silently mourned all the things you never got to say.

And then, just as you’d accepted your fate, Anthony fucking Lockwood pushed you out of the way. You didn’t have time to dwell on that though, the both of you rolling in opposite directions so as to avoid the ghost swiping at you, before disappearing. You sat up and looked at Lockwood, catching his eye and sending a wobbly smile his way.

“You okay?” he asked, voice a bit strained. You nodded and asked him the same question.

“Yeah…I’m good.” he said, lying through his teeth.

“The fuck you are.” You forced your sore body to stand up so you could walk towards him and check him for injuries.

“Y/N! Lockwood!” Lucy ran towards you, halting your endeavour. “Are you two okay?”

~~~

The taxi drive home was awkward and tense. You fought a raging battle against the urge to call him out for being injured, to ask him what was wrong.

When you got home you dragged Anthony into the kitchen and sat him down on a chair.

“Tell me where the fuck you’re hurt right now or I swear I will find out what your worst fear is and make it real.” Lockwood chuckled.

“Love, I’m fine, really.”

“Don’t lie to me, Lockwood.”

Then silence and a slight guilt and still, somehow, that damned fucking tension. So you, do what any normal person would do and pull his jacket off, immediately spotting where he was injured due to the blood staining his white shirt. More silence and more guilt, that stays in the air while you wrap his cut.

“I’m sorry-” He starts but you’re quick to cut him off.

“If you were sorry you’d stop throwing yourself at danger at every given opportunity. You’re so fucking reckless, all the damn time!” You didn’t mean to start berating him but now you couldn’t stop, because he did need to hear this. “Do you know how much you worry us? Do you think George and Lucy and I like seeing you get injured? Goddamn it we care so much about you. Why do you pull these stunts?”

You only now realise how close your faces are. You could feel his breath on you face.

“I don’t think you realise how deeply I care for you.” he whispered, voice husky and low. “You are...everything. I can't breathe when you're not around me and I can't think when you're near me. I would set the entire world aflame if you asked me to. You're the first thing I think about when I wake up and the last thing I think about before I sleep. I love you so much it hurts my heart and my head and my entire being."

You didn't know what to say to respond to that. You were a mess. God maybe-

Fuck it.

His lips were soft against yours. His hair between your fingers, softer. His hands on the sides of your face, gentle. You were kissing him and he was kissing you and you were losing your mind.

"Darling, you drive me insane." he whispered against your lips, matching smiles painting both of your faces.

"I love you too, idiot."

"Of course you do."

#anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood #lockwood and co #lucy carlyle #george karim #mars's fanfiction stuffs ✨

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toniiswrld · 22 days

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The sun literally still out and I feel like a dirty WHORE bc all I can think about is sub!sohee and sub!reader..

You would’ve thought yall both woke up ovulating or some shit cus the way both of you are so needy for the other’s touch and attention that one of you taking a more dominant role isnt even a thought that crosses either of yalls minds?? Brains just empty as hell, so focused on doing whatever feels good and feeling the most amount of pleasure.

You both are already skin to skin but it isn’t even enough. Hands gripping everywhere and anywhere on each other’s bodies to feverishly pull the other impossibly closer.Every touch only makes you wetter and him harder. You both don’t know wtf has gotten into yall but it all feels so addicting, forget thinking about it too hard.

Both of you almost in daze just kissing sloppy as hell, unashamedly moaning and whining into each other’s mouths, biting lips and sucking on tongues and necks and skin. Every action just making u both a babbling mess. Not even trying to hold back the noises and reactions that you two draw from each other’s bodies cus ur brains been clocked out and r wayyyy past the point of ANY coherent thought.

Completely drunk of the feeling and presence of the other. Just wanting to make the other person feel good. Getting off on knowing damn well that it’s only you, it’s only sohee, that can make such a pathetic mess of the other, something no one else gets the privilege to experience or witness in that moment. (I mean ik sohee is a freaky fucking frog and gets off on fucking and sucking in risky places but we not talking about dat rn!!!)

Accidentally overstimulating each other so bad cus everything just feels sooooo good that stopping didn’t even cross your stupid fucked out minds. The craving you two have for each other’s touch feels almost insatiable.

Like it’s almost greedy and primal and maybe a bit possessive the way the two of you need to feel more and more and more of the other until both of yall eventually tap out.

Sohee makes me so feral idk. All I know is is that im tryna be in the walls of his house like a termite :3

(Hehe also can I be 🍓 anon if u do that kinda thing? I send asks wayyy to often for me to not just give in and give myself a government assigned emoji 😭😭😭 (I’m also the one who sent the audio in too haha I hoped u liked it as much as I did 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭))

you got me feeling like a whore reading this at work 😭 but MY GODDDDD i need this so bad omg ur mind… like i dont even have anything to add this was too good😭��️

also saying both sohee and yn are ovulating really got me weak but i fw it… like yeah he gotta be ovulating the way he’s so needy :p also calling him a freaky frog icb omg 😭

and yes you can be 🍓 anon!! welcome <3 and thank you for that audio i enjoyed it very much 🫡

#toniiswrld 💌#toniiswrld༄🍓anon #riize hard hours #riize smut #sohee smut #sohee hard hours

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nahoney22 · 7 months

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Congrats on the 3k! Not shocked at all, you're wonderful and deserve it! 💜 I was wondering if you'd do a smut piece with Echo and fem reader with the NSFW prompts 'can you feel what you are doing to me?' And 'you are the biggest turn on'? But would it be possible to add the 'accidental brush' prompt to it? If not, no worries! But maybe like a mutual pining/idiots being in love with each other and not realizing it until something finally caves? I'm a sucker for that stuff lol

3000 Prompt List Celebration

Echo X F!Reader

word count: 1.6k

NSFW

prompts:

• “Can you feel what you are doing to me?”

• “You are my biggest turn on.”

• & ‘Accidental Brush’

warnings: NSFW, explicit sexual content, mutual pining, idiots in love, female reader, first kiss, flirting, handjob, fluff, aftercare.

authors note: oh @theroguesully I’m so sorry about the wait! This was completely lost in my drafts and it was scheduled to be posted literally months ago but Tumblr said no. Anyway, hope this is okay and thanks for the support! Love this idea.

“Are you busy?”

You glanced up to find Echo near, his mechanical hand cradled in his grasp. "I've got time," you replied as you set your previous task to the side, observing him settle next to you as he lays his prosthetic down gently. "What seems to be the problem?"

"It's acting up. No clue what happened. I've tried everything," he explained, a hint of frustration evident in his voice. Your lips curled into a knowing smile.

"You think I might have a solution?" You took the cybernetic hand, studying the connections and circuits. "When did it start acting up?"

"Roughly an hour ago," he admitted, his gaze intently following your movements. Most people made him feel self-conscious about his enhancements, but with you, he felt different. It was your gentleness, your genuine care. And the undeniable fact that you were the most enchanting individual he'd ever encountered - a secret he guarded closely. Though he had his suspicions that maybe Hunter knew. And Wrecker… and everyone else. Just hopefully, not you.

"Hang tight, I'll sort this out," you said, pinpointing the malfunction. "I can bring it over when I'm done."

"You trying to send me away already?" He teased.

"N-No, it's just—" You stuttered, forever caught off guard by Echo's smooth presence. From the moment you'd met, you could not deny the fact he made your heart skip a beat. He was also so tentative and kind, not to mention utterly handsome too.

“Mind if I stick around?”

The intensity of his gaze caused your hands to waver just a fraction, betraying the storm of emotions raging within you.

"Of course," you managed to reply, trying to sound more composed than you felt, then refocused on the task at hand.

As you began to work away, Echo was captivated. Watching you effortlessly navigate the intricacies of mechanics always left him in awe. In his eyes, your skill rivaled that of even the most seasoned experts like Tech. Or perhaps he was simply biased.

But as time passed, his appreciation began to shift. While you remained engrossed in fixing the issue, his eyes strayed to the gentle curve of your lips, the way you absentmindedly bit down on your bottom lip as you concentrated. It wasn't meant to be enticing, yet he found himself stirred by the sight. He swallowed hard, an uneasy tension filling the air around him. Shifting uncomfortably, he hoped you wouldn't notice the effect you had on him.

Echo's sudden fluster caught your attention, making you smirk mischievously. "Everything okay?" you teased, having caught his uneasy demeanor.

"Just... feeling a bit warm," he replied, his fingers absentmindedly adjusting his collar.

"Well, don’t worry because I’m now done." You handed over his fixed prosthetic, your heart fluttering as you awaited his verdict.

The ease with which he reattached it and the grin that spread across his face told you everything. "You really are something," he whispered, though not quietly enough to escape your ears.

You leaned closer, the playful edge in your voice unmistakable. "And what’s that?"

He met your gaze, a warmth emanating from his eyes that had your heart skipping a beat. "Brilliant," he replied, his voice firm with conviction.

Taken aback, you offer a shy smile, averting your gaze. "I should get back to my work," you murmur, gesturing to your previous task. He follows your gesture and nods in understanding.

"Do you need a hand?" Echo offers, his eyes searching yours for an answer.

"No, it's just some minor tweaks left. But hey, if your arm gives you trouble again, let me know," you reply warmly, your words making him feel an unexpected surge of warmth.

He returns the smile, more genuinely this time. "I appreciate that. Is there any way I can thank you? Anything you need?"

Caught off guard, the first thing that comes to your mind spills out, "A hug?"

His eyes widen, clearly taken aback. You've shared casual touches, sure, but a hug was stepping into new territory.

Seeing your hesitation, he responds with a soft smile, "I'd like that."

You both stand and Echo's eyes search yours for a moment, and then with a gentle determination, he opens his arms to you. The galaxy seems to slow as you step into his embrace. The surprising warmth of his body against yours feels both unfamiliar and comforting, the steady beat of his heart syncing with the rapid thumping of your own.

You rest your head against his chest, discreetly inhaling the unique scent of him - a mix of metal, oil, and something distinctly Echo.

But, something feels different.

You pull back from him slowly and that’s when you see it. Your mouth subsequently waters and a sudden heat pangs at your core.

Your heart races as Echo, completely forgetting that his previous arousal hadn’t completely faded and the hug, only sprung it back as you accidentally brushed against him.

“It’s not what it looks like.” He utters quickly, eyes wide and absolutely mortified but you’re too stunned to speak.

And you’re not at all upset. In fact, you are rather in awe. “Then… what does it look like?”

Echo's face burns, the combination of his embarrassment and the close proximity making it all the more intense. He struggles to find words, his confident demeanor faltering in the face of his unexpected vulnerability.

"It's... I mean..." he starts, trying to form a coherent thought, "Being close to you, feeling your warmth, it just... affected me. And watching you work…”

Your eyes remain locked onto his, the weight of the realisation settling in. The physical evidence of his attraction had been a surprise, but in a way, it also confirmed what you had both been dancing around for so long.

Taking a deep breath, you muster the courage to admit, "I affect you, huh?"

As you didn’t back away, in fact coming closer, Echo let out his own deep breath and sincerely hoped he was reading the look in your eyes correcting. “You’re my biggest turn on.”

With your eyes dancing in delight at his confession, you couldn’t help but lick your lower lip, enticing Echo more whose eyes flicker straight to your lips that he had been thinking of kissing for so long. “I think I’ve thought of a new way you can thank me, Echo.”

“And what’s that?” He rasps.

Closing the distance once more, you gently let your hand begin to palm the aching length in his pants, having him shudder and moan in satisfaction. “I think you know.”

Without a second thought, Echo’s lips are on yours. He kissed you like a man starved, tongue diving deep into your mouth as you manage to slip your hand into his pants, taking a grasp of his warm cock that twitches beautifully under your grasp. “Fuck, Echo,” you compliment as you feel how big and perfect he was.

“Can you feel what you are doing to me?” He breathes against your lips, earning a grin of your own as your pussy throbs in response.

“I never thought you’d feel this way about me,”

“How could I not?”

Pulling his pants down to his ankles, you take a second to break the kiss and to admire his length. Both of your hands come into contact with him and he grunts at the sensation. “You look so good stroking my cock,” he whines, leaning against the control panel as he gazes down at your hands that start a perfect synchronised rhythm, pumping against his as precum lubes up your motions.

You lock eyes with him, his hooded with lust as you pleasure him with your hands, watching his chest rise and fall with heavy breaths. “Do you like this?”

“I love it, I love it so much.” He whimpers, knees shaking as you cup his balls, gently fondling them whilst your other hand maintains its rhythm. “D-do you want me to touch you?”

You smirk but gently shake your head. “I just want to focus on you today, I want to show you what I’ve always wanted to do.”

He blinks, surprised and incredibly aroused. “You have?” He says with a soft grunt, biting his own lip as he feels his climax start to build.

“Mhm, I’ve… I’ve always wanted to do this. With you.”

“Well,” he reaches his hand up and cups your cheek before sliding his lips over yours in a quick and heated embrace, “don’t let me stop you.”

Your pace begins to quicken, and his breathing becomes more stuttered as his hips involuntarily start to roll, sliding his cock in and out of your grasp. “Not - oh fuuuck - not going to last much longer sweetheart.”

“Cum for me Echo, cum.”

He’s saying your name over and over, his head tilted back as you pump frantically at his cock until you feel a beautiful warm texture paint your hands. You gasp at the feeling, his silky white cum covering your hand.

When you pull back, you quickly grab some tissue and clean yourself up, shyly handing over some for Echo who takes it, completely flustered. “Thank you.”

“So,” he says slowly once he’s tidied himself up and pulled his pants back up, “can I ask what this means?”

“I mean,” you shift in your position, sincerely hoping you’ve read the situation between you both correctly, “I think it’s obvious that I have feelings for you.”

At this, he blows out a breath of relief. “Good. Great,” he smiles warmly, “I’ve had feelings for you for a long time too. I just didn’t think you’d feel the same.”

You approach him again, this time you both instantly fall into each other's embrace. “You’re just going to have to thank me next time in a different way.”

His eyes widened slightly, a playful smirk forming on his lips. "Is that so?"

You nodded with a mischievous glint in your eye. "Definitely."

Echo chuckled softly, his hand resting gently against the nape of your neck, pulling you closer. "I look forward to it. Just know that I have plenty of ways to show my gratitude."

☀️ Requests Open until the 15th of October. ☀️

Masterlist

Tags: @andyoufollowyourheart @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @captxin-rex @jesseeka @ashotofspotchka @ladykatakuri @jambolska-grozdova a @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @rain-on-kamino @either-madness-or-brilliance @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @chrissywakingup @kixs-husband @pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter @erellenora @zippingstars87 @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @imalovernotahater @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @tinyreadersmur @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @ladyzirkonia @raevulsix @whore4rex @imperialclaw801 @temple-elder @mysticalgalaxysalad @photogirl894

#echo x reader #bad batch echo #the bad batch echo #nahoney22 writes #echo bad batch x reader #echo smut #the bad batch #tbb echo x reader

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xerith-42 · 5 months

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*bats my eyes at you* spare some angsty headcanons perhaps?

Ask and you shall receive

Laurance is triggered by the smell of burning hair. Bro had hair down to his waist and then went into literal hell, I imagine so much of it caught on fire or was maybe even deliberately burnt, and it's such a distinct smell. It rarely happens, but if a stray spark from the fire accidentally catches on Cadenza's hair Laurance kind of freaks out a little. Fight or flight kicks in but he freezes but he also fights but he's also frozen and that smell is so awful he literally wants to rip his own skin off.

Katelyn doesn't ever think she'll love again. It's why she's so put off by Travis' advances, she just doesn't think it's a possibility. Every time she thinks about love she thinks about Jeffory. Seeing him on the island, even if it was an imp, did not help matters.

Kenmur still loves Sasha. He will always love Sasha. There is no amount of time that will stop him from loving her. Even if he also loves Emmalyn more than life itself, even if he's dedicated himself to his wife and his studies, there's still always that part of him that will answer to Sasha. Whenever she's around he can feel himself being pulled towards her just from the sound of her voice.

Zianna hates the sound of silence. So many years completely alone in such a huge estate. By the time Zane and Garroth disappeared, she was effectively estranged from her husband, only staying so they can maintain this cover of the Lord and Lady of O'Khasis. But their home is massive, designed for an entire family and then some. Even after Vylad and Garroth "died", Zane kept the house busy and often had Jury members present. The hollow emptiness of her home is nearly maddening for the poor woman.

The only reason Zianna never left is because she still held out hope for all of her sons. Zianna held out hope that any one of them would come stumbling in through the front door, likely beaten and bloody, and she would be able to take them into her arms and welcome them home.

This could very well turn into it's own post but here's a few small relic angst headcanons. Aph starts to lose her sense of self because sometimes she'll talk and it won't sound like her. They have mostly similar speech patterns, and she says things she would normally say, but it sounds like someone else, and she can never put her finger on it. Others notice, but nobody can quite figure out what's wrong with it. Until Zoey hears it and says it sounds familiar.

Travis usually likes to be a bit of a know-it-all, having a lot of random bits of trivia he's just learned from years of having nothing to do but entertain himself alone in a cabin, but sometimes the facts he gives are on subjects he never studied. He knows it's because of Enki's relic and he can't do anything about it. He hates how monotone his voice sounds whenever it happens, like he isn't even happy to know this information.

I'm sorry but we cannot gloss over how much turmoil Garroth would be over getting Esmunds relic after Zane already had it. He lies awake at night wondering what the three of them have in common, what he and Zane have in common at all. How could the protector bond with such a destructive awful man? How much is Garroth really like his brother? Can he even say he isn't like his brother if they were able to bond with the same relic?

Zoey may not have personally known all the previous relic holders, but she saw them. She was ten when Irene was walking among the mortals. Sometimes when she looks at her friends she sees... someone else. Someone so familiar, so similar to them, but the details aren't right. She can't tell if this is an effect of the relics or her own dwindling sanity/life force after giving up her immortality.

And entirely for myself because I will keep rewriting Aaron in my posts, Aaron feels such tremendous guilt like all the time. The survivors guilt has consumed everything he is, even the relationship that's supposed to be healing it. All he can think about is how he let everyone down, when he was supposed to lead them. Aaron wears the bandana not because he's hiding his identity, but to hide the permanently miserable look in his eyes.

#text post #minecraft diaries #laurance zvahl #minecraft diaries laurance #garroth ro'meave #mcd headcanons #mcd garroth #aphblr #mcd #aphmau minecraft diaries #travis valkrum #mcd travis #mcd zoey #zianna ro'meave #mcd kenmur #mcd emmalyn #mcd katelyn

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studentinpursuitofclouds · 7 months

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Being a little indulgent with this little request if you don’t mind, as it’s admittedly in regards to a farmer oc of my own- ^^”

What would be the SDV (+SDVE) Bachelors responses towards a farmer that seems to just have an extreme aura of bad luck that follows them? They’re almost always minimally harmed from whatever misfortunes happen, but really it’s to the level of even *omens* of bad luck happen often and naturally around this poor farmer.

- 🐇

Hello again, bunny anon 👋 Thank you again for your ask and have a good day 🫰❤️

SDV bachelors:

Shane:

"Once again, two failures meet," thought Shane as the Farmer approached him again in the Saloon and promptly fell from their bar stool to the floor. Shane actually had thought he was the number one loser in this town, but the walking problem that owned the huge farm had clearly managed to overwhelm him. Not to say that Shane is a good shoulder to cry on, but at least he'll offer them a mug of beer. They don't have to drink it, just put a cold one on the bruise on head from a bad fall.

Alex:

Honestly, Alex felt guilty after all the times he had laughed at the constant troubles that followed Farmer around. Most of the time they were not serious mishaps, but when the sportsman caught Farmer with bigger wounds, that's when he stop laughing. Even the fact that Farmer did not resent him and was used to misfortunes did not help Alex to forgive himself that easily. But now he could correct his past mistakes and help them in some way. At least cheer them up, plus there's always a first aid kit at the ice cream stand.

Sebastian:

Sebastian can't understand how the Farmers can be so positive and joyful after the continuous setbacks that haunt them. They have literally fallen face first into the mud several times, but always get up, shake it off, and move on with a smile. The fact that the Farmer was haunted by bad luck all the time confused Sebby even more. Maybe he should look at his life from a different angle too..... But he should also take plasters and disinfectant with him. At least Sebastian would be able to offer that to Farmer.

Elliott:

You know, Farmer... Elliott thought about this: is their bad luck, purely hypothetically, really a bad luck? After all, Farmer always comes out of the worst situation almost unscathed. In fact, it could be considered good luck! Although, Elliott will stop advancing this theory if Farmer is saddened by the string of constant failures. The writer will comfort Farmer as best he can, and the doors of his little beach house are always open to them if they're feeling down.

Harvey:

Their constant bad luck is one of the main reasons why Harvey strongly recommended that Farmer carry a first aid kit and taught them how to give themselves first aid. Even though the local doctor won't stop worrying about the most frequent visitor to his clinic (who even just standing still can get injured), at least he'll be sure he's done everything he can for Farmer. Unfortunately, he can't do anything about their bad luck, but Harvey will always heal them and support them with a kind word if needed.

Sam:

"Bruh, same." Sammy himself is covered in small scratches or barely noticeable bruises, because he is often distracted by something and can either fall off his skateboard or accidentally cut himself with a knife or something else. So he genuinely understands Farmer, who is also constantly in abrasions and scratches. Even though Sam has a completely different case, he understands them. Usually a hot delicious pizza or other snack lifts his spirits, so if Farmer is feeling despondent after another run of bad luck, let them go with the guitarist to the Saloon. Delicious pizza - and no bad luck!

SVE bachelors:

Victor:

"Oh, I guess it's just a bad day, tomorrow will definitely be better!" Victor remembered his words to Farmer six months ago, but nothing had changed since that day. It was like someone had really cursed them. That's weird. Not to say that Victor understands anything about curses and magic as such, but he doesn't deny its existence. Maybe someone the Farmer knows that does magic or adventuring could help? And Victor could revisit something in his library, see if he finds anything useful. It pained him to see his friend constantly in bandages and scratches...

Magnus:

Magnus wondered if the Farmer or one of their ancestors had been cursed in the past. Of course, most of the time they come out of all their misfortunes unscathed, but the fact that the Farmer often got into trouble was a cause for concern for Magnus. The old wizard will revisit all his books, treatises and scrolls to find a similar case like Farmer's. It is not certain that his search will be successful, but Magnus would not like to see his friend and pupil maimed and suffering.

Lance:

Lance never liked to hear insults or rumours about his colleagues and friends, but even he sadly had to admit that there was some truth in their words - the Farmer was indeed haunted by misfortune. Even though the Farmers themselves were used to it and just laugh at all the wounds they got from a bad fall or a fight with a monster, Lance wished he could help them somehow. Maybe the noble adventurer could purchase some amulet for the Farmer from the merchants in Castle Village that could bring them some luck? That would be good start.

#stardew valley #sdv #sve #stardew valley expanded #sdv headcanons #sdv headcanon #sve headcanon #sdv shane #sdv harvey #sdv alex #sdv sebastian #sdv sam #sdv elliott #sve victor #sve lance #sve magnus #sdv wizard #sdv rasmodius

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tallymonster · 6 months

Text

Memories of Us Chapter 2 || Masterlist

Literally posting the first two parts and then passing out lol, same tags as last time, same inspiration from this art by @cheesy-cryptid , same everything basically.

Summary: Octavia goes to a place in the Upper City to meet her boss. Turns out it's extremely secretive.

Oh one thing I forgot to mention. The chapter titles are based on the song "I Caught Fire" by The Used.

Thanks again to my babe @micropoe10 for being my beta reader and best friend ❤️

also tagging @satanicspinosaurus because they're the first person to ask to be tagged (!!!!) Thanks for the support guys, it means A LOT.

Chapter 2

Could stay a while

Gale gave Octavia the very secret directions to the restaurant she was due to meet her boss in. It was a fancy place in the Upper City, secluded enough for only those who knew where it was could find it. Looking down at the piece of paper with the code to enter, she knocks on the door. A voice comes out of nowhere, loudly asking, "PASSWORD?" Nervously she speaks the phrase on the paper, instantly the door opens and the piece of paper is gone. "Wow, they really don't want people to know about this place huh?" "I would assume not, some of us do pay quite a bit of gold for the exclusivity." A haughty voice speaks out from behind her, a blush quickly develops on her cheeks as the realization crosses that she was not alone.

She quickly stammers "Oh it's my first time here, I was more surprised than anything." She chuckles at her own expense. The man behind her is cloaked in the light of a street lantern directly behind them. "Well, I hope you enjoy it, they say the first time is incredibly memorable..." The last word spills out with a sultry drawl, he walks past her and into the hallway, eventually fading into the darkness of the restaurant. The blush on her cheeks has definitely covered her entire face now.

Octavia takes a few breaths. Then steps into the dark restaurant. The interior of the establishment is lowly lit, almost completely dark, save for the candles on the tables and sconces on the walls. She looks around to the other patrons, all impeccably dressed in clothes that look like they would cost at least 5 months pay.

"This way, miss." Octavia is led to a private room towards the back, the waitress knocks on the red wooden door in front of them, a voice that sounds like Gale's calls out "I think she's here, let me go greet her!"

Gale comes out in a much nicer suit than his usual one, slightly fitted for a guy who you only see in cardigans and loose sweaters. "Okay, now I definitely feel underdressed, is there a dress code here that someone forgot to inform me about?" Octavia jokes, "Because if I had a reason to go buy a new wardrobe with my graduation money, it would've been good to know."

Gale looks at her slightly confused until he notices her wearing practically the same outfit she wore to work, the only exception was her blazer, it wasn't the one he accidentally spilled ink on when they were restoring some letters together earlier in the day.

He sucks his teeth and apologizes "I absolutely did, and I'm not sure how to make up for it yet, but I promise you look wonderful. You have your talents and expertise to speak for themselves! No amount of lavish clothing can eclipse that. Besides, Mr. Ancunin trusts me much more than anyone else. He and I have talked at great lengths about your impressive knowledge of the Heroes of Baldur's Gate. He's made remarks about it, seeming like you've been there yourself!" He laughs as he leads her into the room, would this be the time to tell him her family history?

As she approaches the table, a shadow becomes clear and his form begins to take shape. His hands are the first thing she sees come out from behind the cloak around his shoulders; slender fingers with a spider like length, lustrous skin like pearls, one reaches out and takes hers in a handshake. "My my..Made your way over from outside, darling?" That voice sounded like the man from outside."How was the walk over? Not too far in the back are we? I wanted to make sure our meeting was nice and private."

The waitress who led her down to this room lights a few more candles, replacing some that had apparently gone out. The barely lit room fills with warm yellow light and her boss becomes more illuminated by each one.

Octavia notices his hair first, a mop of silver and white styled into a messy tousle of curls. His ears were pointed, the few rings of hair that fell on them perfectly encircled around as if on purpose. She noticed something particular though, he was wearing sunglasses inside? In this dark place?

Before she even knew, she asked "Why are you wearing sunglasses inside at night?" Taken aback, her boss laughs loudly as he looks towards Gale, "You were right, cheeky little pup, isn't she?"

His grin grows mischievously. Gale shrugs and pulls the chair out in front of him, he motions Octavia to sit. She makes her way over and takes her spot, Gale sitting to her right. "Miss Octavia, I would be honored to finally introduce you to our esteemed head curator of the Baldur's Gate Museum of History, Mr. Astarion Ancunin."

Gale flourishes the last bit by extending his arm out to his right, Astarion dips his head in a small bow. "I do apologize for the last minute absence, my dear" he sips his wine and places the glass down.

"I believe you're both reaping the benefits of that excursion in the hard work you've been doing. Which is the cause of this little outing I've set up for the three of us. Obviously, I wanted to meet you beforehand, Octavia, but some things have to be sacrificed for the good of preservation. I take this work very seriously, I want to ensure these priceless artifacts don't get lost to time, as some things have before." He takes a slow sip of his wine, "I believe Gale has told you about his little interest in our Szarr art collection?"

Astarion playfully asks Octavia, as he turns to Gale, a devilish smile on his face, sipping more wine. "He has, actually, but I asked." she answers "Really? And what do you make of this mystery subject? You must have a theory, yes?" He places a hand under his chin, turning to look at her behind those dark lenses.

Octavia feels the same chill she felt when she first looked at the painting on the wall. She gulps,"Uh not yet, but I'm curious as well...the subject looks like a male elf, maybe about 40? No more than 100 it seems..."

She trails off a little, looking down at the table. "Whomever they were, they seem important somehow, like they were a favorite or something? A favored consort, possibly? I'm hoping that after Gale and I are done with this project, we may be able to find out?" She fidgets with her fingers a little under the table, hearing a pleased hum she straightens up and looks to Gale. He has a giant smile on his face, and gives her a reassuring nod.

A silence falls on the table as they turn to look at Astarion, his eyebrows come together.. he seems angry, perhaps annoyed, was he upset at her speculation? Her heart was in her throat, where was the waitress? She needed water and quick- "Why do you think that?" Astarion asks pointedly, taking a more prominent drink of his wine. "Why do you think that one is favored?"

Octavia feels a lump at her throat, she swallows and answers "They're in a lot of paintings in the gallery...I noticed them in at least a dozen...in the forefront of four, the background of 6...the main subject of two..it's quite a lot for someone who doesn't matter.." She hears a soft huff, not annoyed this time. "Interesting. Most people say that he's pretty or gorgeous or go on about his beautiful body, but you focused on the importance of the subject. I admire your insight, Octavia. I see why Gale tipped the scales for you."

#bg3 #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #astarion ancunin #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 astarion #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #astarion bg3 #fanfic #bg3 fanfic #astarion x reader #astarion x oc #fic tag: au #fic tag: headcanon #fic tag: slow burn #fic: memories of us

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