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#reader is gender neutral
random-twst-things · 4 months
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*In Vil's room, getting their skin cared for*
Vil: Your clothes are always so awfully worn out. Why would you even purchase such clothes?
Mc/Y/N/Yuu: Oh I don't purchase them
Vil, looking at them suspiciously: ...then?
Mc/Y/N/Yuu: I don't steal them! Geez, who do you think I am?
Vil: I apologize but the way you phrased it makes it seems so
Mc/Y/N/Yuu, sighing: I don't steal them, I get most of my clothes from the lost and found or
from the clothes and shoes bins right outside the school gates.
Vil: ...what? 🤨
Mc/Y/N/Yuu: yea! You wouldn't believe how many good shirts ppl give away or lose! 😄
Vil: 😐
Mc/Y/N/Yuu: 🙂
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Dividers from @/cafekitsune
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pokegalla · 2 months
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Requested/trade by @veiled-rebel
First ever Hazbin hotel headcanons lets gooooo✨
How Touchy Can They Be In Public With Slightly Large Chested S/o!
Angel Dust:
* ……..ok yes he’s a pornstar so obviously he could care less. All of hell watches his videos. Him doing something promiscuous as grabbing some booba ain’t really a surprise-
* Doesn’t mean he’s going do it without making sure you’re actually comfortable with it though! If not, he’ll never do it again (he’ll make excuses but we all know he’s a softie-). But if you are comfortable? Good luck. He’ll hug you from behind a lot and give a biiiiig squeeze- hell he’ll let you lay your head in his own fluffy booba! It’s only fair✨ (your nickname is definitely now sugar tits and you cannot go against that)
* In private he’s actually a LOT cuter. He loves nuzzling in your chest and giving it so many smooches. He just finds you so cute and he doesn’t hold back on his flirts. But surprisingly they are much more sweeter! “Awww la Mia dolce metà is blushing agaaain~ Am I making yah that excited~?” He laughs when you blush more.
* Ooooooo but now you wanna be wearing a boob window?! Oh you HAVE to be teasing him baby~✨ and he is not above taking you to the nearest hotel for a little….detour~
* Hey you dated a pornstar pal. You kinda should have expected this! But hey….you’re also the only one who gets to see his soft side too.
Mini story time!!!
Man you were fucking bored. Which is ironic considering how hectic hell can be. But what could you do right? You sinned and now you’re in this shithole, rotting away year by year…..oh? You felt someone hug you from behind. And that familiar squeeze that made you blush-
“ANGEL-“ the yelp made your lover laugh.
“Got yah sugartits! Next time get yah head out of yah ass! Unless it’s on mine sweetheart~” he winked at you and laughed when you got flustered.
But….you take one of his hands and it made him smile. Genuinely smile. Well….Hell may be a shithole.
But at least you’re not alone in it❤️
Husk:
* Eh honestly he’s more of a gentleman here. So not as touchy. Little to none actually.
* But he does get a little more protective. I mean it is hell, perverts and assholes come in by a dozen. He’ll snarl at anyone getting a little too close or have a spare jacket just to drape over your shoulders. Quite a sweet gesture coming from the grump himself✨
* In private he surprisingly is still hesitant to even look there as he thinks it’s rude. You have a face don’tcha? He prefers looking there. But if you tell him it’s perfectly fine and lay him on your chest? He will stay right there because he is a blushing mess. Might earn a few purrs if you give him head scritchies✨
* Now despite being a gentleman, he knows when you wanna dress up for him. So wearing a boob window will have him peeking more….and he might actually mention it! “Looking good. Dressed up for a special occasion?” But he’d have a little mischievous smirk. Oh trust me. You are definitely having a special occasion tonight now~
* He may be a grumpy cat, he’s still a softie at heart. And only you know best.
Mini story time!!!
Yeah maybe wearing this top to the club was a terrible idea. So many creeps and assorted assholes were everywhere and they couldn’t stop staring. Couldn’t you just walk around without someone staring at you like a piece of meat….? But that’s when you felt someone wrap a jacket around your shoulders before leading you out of the club.
“Husk….? What are you…?” You were shocked to say the least.
“I told yah NOT tah go to this club. Lotta bad eggs in there….” He grumbles as he kept you close to himself.
You were surprised he came at all….you sigh and lean against his shoulder, making him stiffen but sigh, rubbing your back comfortingly.
At least you have him around ❤️
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zer0pm · 1 year
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Imagine Luis using the communicator to call you. Constantly.
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“Luis? What’s your status?”
“No bueno, my friend. I’m in a lot of pain.”
Your head immediately snaps up at attention to these words. Leon, who answered the call as the device was on his person, shares your look of alarm and nods in understanding to prepare to come to the Spaniard’s aid.
“Where are you?” Leon inquires, maneuvering the communicator between you two so that you can listen in as well. “How serious are your injuries?”
The man on the other line groans, “I’d say pretty serious. Severe, even.”
Filled with worry, you were about to join the line of questioning until his voice cuts you off before you could utter a sound.
“After all… how does one recover from a lonely heart?”
Leon squints, “…What?”
“I am separated from my light- mi luz! Forced to wander these terrifying, dark corridors alone without any source of warmth and comfort!” In the tiny screen, you can see the man waving his arms around with an exaggerated pout on his face. He looked like he was rehearsing a scene of a play or something. Luis notices your face on his end and smiles widely before releasing an over-the-top gasp and calling you by name. “¿Dónde estás, mi luz? I am suffering without you.”
You pinch the bridge of your nose, doing your best to choke down the laugh that was threatening to erupt from your chest. Before reuniting with Leon S. Kennedy, your partner in the mission to retrieve Ashley Graham, you were running around the village with Luis Serra, a man you happened to come across while fighting hordes of infected villagers. Initially, you were suspicious of him, but he proved himself to be a man of good character, chivalrously watching your back and using his intimate knowledge of the area and the terrors that creep within to navigate you both through multiple dangerous encounters.
You and he became close quickly, forging a strong bond during your time together, made easy with the man’s charisma and light-hearted nature. Even in the constant face of danger, Luis would twist the dark ambiance to his playful tune, often making you the muse of his antics if not for the sole purpose to tease a smile upon your face. So what he was doing now was not at all surprising, but the confused and incredulous look upon Leon’s face was priceless.
Just as you were going to point out that it hasn’t at all been that long since you two have separated ways so that you can help Leon relocate Ashley, the blond agent beside you drops the call with a push of a button. He then throws an inquisitive glare your way.
“What?” you ask.
“Do I dare even ask what the hell that was?” Leon shoots back.
You ponder his question for a moment before answering, “Honestly, it’d save you the headache if you didn’t.”
With that, Leon drops the conversation with a sigh before taking the lead to move on. Little did you both know, it wouldn’t be the last time Luis would call.
The second time he calls, he asks how you and Leon were progressing. And just like the first time, Leon answers, reporting that you were busy cracking at a difficult door puzzle while he kept watch.
“Whoever designed this castle was a real asshole,” the agent comments.
“Agreed,” you sigh. “And whoever took the time to reset these puzzles is an even bigger asshole.”
Luis’ voice chimes in through the static. “Perhaps I can be of some assistance? I am a brilliant man, afterall. Let me have a look, por favor.”
Thinking nothing of it, Leon walks over and faces the screen of the comm to you and the door so that Luis can see what you are working on from behind before you reset the puzzle. You then explain how you got stuck and your theories on what the possible solutions could be. While doing so, Luis hums after each pause, his face showing that of absolute concentration. After you finished and a moment of considerable silence passes, you engage him.
“Well?” you ask. “Any thoughts?”
Luis lifts his hand from his stubbled chin, “Just one.” He points at you, his voice lowers to a husky growl.
“You look particularly ravishing from this angle.”
You were grateful that Leon hung up before Luis can see the blush burning hot on your cheeks. After some time, you managed to solve the puzzle and proceed with the mission although Leon was none too happy with the Spanish man for wasting both of your times.
The third time the communication device goes off, you offer to take it from Leon.
“It’s probably him again. Why don’t I handle this one?”
“No,” he denies, shaking his head. “I still don’t trust him and you don’t need the distraction.”
Instead of being offended at your partner practically casting your professionalism into doubt, you reason with him. “C’mon, Leon. It could be serious this time.”
“Highly doubt it.”
However, more time passes and the device is still beeping. The sound echoes off the walls in taunting pings to the gnawing point where it was practically imprinted into your brains. When Leon couldn’t handle it anymore, he sighs in defeat and pushes the button. Again, he doesn’t hand it to you and greets the dark-haired man himself with an irritated frown.
“This better be good.”
“Depends on your definition of “good”, mi compadre.” Luis too wore a grimace, his voice void of his usual humor. “I’ve relocated one of my hidden caches and uncovered the suppressants you will both need to slow the growth of the plaga within your bodies.”
“Well, damn. That sounds like great news to me.” A wave of relief washes over Leon’s face, probably because Luis finally shared something worthwhile. “So what’s the catch, then?”
“Catch is- there are two different kinds of doses. One dose is a simple needle injection. That will be for you, Leon. Pero, the other…” he trails off, eyes casted with a faraway look while the adam’s apple in his throat bobs. Whatever was on his mind seems difficult to swallow let alone speak aloud.
Curiosity evident in Leon’s expression, he prods him further. “What is it, Luis? Is the other dose dangerous to administer?”
“It can be. The application process has a high probability of being rather intensive. For both the receiver and the administrator.”
You join in, “What do you mean?”
It was only until the words left your mouth did you realize what you just waltzed into.
Upon hearing your words, Luis’ expression changes like day and night, the somber frown flipping into a mischievous smirk. “It is nothing you can’t handle, mi amor. I’m certain. Only that it requires you and I to exchange bodily fluids in-“
Never before have you seen Leon hang up so fast, his hand covering his beet red face. You couldn’t tell if it was out of embarrassment, disgust, or fury for falling for the Spaniard’s antics once again and concluded that it was all at once.
“Let’s… ugh… Let’s just keep going.”
You didn’t put up a fight at the order, fighting off your own set of emotions that stirred from Luis’ shameless teasing. However, not even five steps were taken and the walkie talkie beeps. Leon was livid.
“For fuck’s sake, what now?!”
“Catch you at a bad time, Leon?” A deadpan feminine voice comes through the comms and you swear Leon turned several shades paler.
Leon’s “informant” tipped you off on Ashley’s last sighting and you two wasted no time moving to catch up to her. After fighting another wave of plaga, tensions were running high. So when you two were rushing to navigate around the courtyard, the communicator goes off once more and that became the last straw for Leon. Already fuming, he waited to see the Spaniard’s face on the device before verbally popping off.
“Luis, I swear to god. If the reason you’re calling is to talk about how miserable and lonely you are or make some dumb comment on a certain someone’s assets, I am going to literally throw this walkie talkie off the ramparts,” Leon snarled, his frustration unrestrained. “So I dare you, Luis, I fucking dare you to speak. And it better be god damn important!”
For a moment there was only white noise, then a familiar thick accent finally comes through.
“… I was going to say that I can see you two across the courtyard,” the man reports candidly, “and there’s a swarm of monsters coming in at your three o’clock.”
Sure enough, a horde of giant mutated insects were zooming towards you and Leon. Amidst the countless gunshots and death cries of your enemies, you can hear your fellow agent beside you cursing colorfully to the high heavens as well as the sound of hysterical laughter further in the distance.
When it was all over, the communicator was beeping again. Leon didn’t even bother answering. Instead, he tosses the device over to you without so much as a word or making eye contact. The brief exchange almost made you laugh as you press the button and are greeted by a familiar handsome face whose grey eyes lit up instantly at the sight of you.
“I think you broke the poor man,” you say with an amused, pointed look.
The expression you see in the tiny screen was that of feigned innocent confusion. “¿Perdon? Whatever do you mean? I thought I did my due diligence in warning you two of imminent danger.”
Your ears pick up an irritated groan followed by harsh stomps moving away from your position. You can practically imagine smoke coming out of the blond’s ears as he created distance, muttering an excuse that he is going to check the perimeter. If not for your respect for the man, you would have rolled over laughing.
Shaking your head, you return your attention back to cause of your partner’s grief. “Alright. Now that’s it just the two of us. What did you really want to say to me, Luis?”
“Nada,” the Spanish man shrugs, throwing you his signature charming grin. “Just wanted to hear your voice.”
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twinkbusted · 7 months
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untitled- simon petrikov x reader
(just a very indulgent oneshot i wrote... i hope ygs enjoy! [btw y/n is NOT excusing simon's behavior at the end im sorry if i didn't make that clear] also pls excuse all grammatical errors... i wrote this in a few hours)
warnings ! - making out and sexual implications
rating - tv-14
It was early in the morning, when he left. At first you assumed he had simply left for work, but something felt off when you woke up. Half of the blanket was sprawled across the floor, Simon’s uniform was still neatly folded on the desk, and most alarmingly, there was a note on top of it.
“No, no, NO.” you stammered, dragging your fingers through your hair. You didn’t have to read it to know what it said. He was going to leave you again and he wasn’t going to come back. You hurriedly threw on a robe and slippers, not bothering on finding a proper outfit. You dashed out the door, shoveling your way through crowds and crowds of people.
“To Ooo?” The sailor asked, eyes wide. You didn’t have time for questions. You needed to find him now, before it was too late. “Yes. Immediately.” The sailor nodded, and started vigorously rowing. You knew you were being difficult; and possibly a bit entitled, but something like this couldn’t wait. You needed him to stay away from that thing.
“Thank you!” you said, scurrying out of the boat and into the woods. You didn’t know why you always tried to run after him. Deep down, you wondered if it’d be better if you just left, let him deal with himself. It was getting kind of tiring, like playing a never-ending game. You were not amused by it.
However, time and time again you still found yourself helplessly in love with him. It was probably foolish at this point, but he was always gentle; sweet. You just hated to see him like this; so upset. You would do anything to see him happy again.  
After about ten minutes or so of running, you were surprised to see him sitting on a log, staring down at the ground. Taking a second to catch your breath, you slowly started walking towards him, still bearing in mind that he could still be thinking about taking the crown. 
Your plan failed, Simon perked up immediately as he heard a branch break. “Y/n?” Simon asked, confused. You sighed, and picked up your pace, stopping about arm’s-length from him. You forced yourself to relax and hear him out, but it was hard to not look a little angry. 
“What are you doing out here, Simon?” you asked, your voice softer than expected. He was silent for a second, scratching his head nervously. “I don’t know anymore. I’ve just been… so out of it lately.” Simon clasped his hands together, avoiding eye contact. You put your hand out for a moment, before taking it back.
“Were you thinking about taking the crown?” you whispered, hands clenched into fists. Simon’s head sank lower, his glasses hanging lopsidedly off his face. “Yes,” he admitted. “I thought it would make everything better again. But… I didn’t want you to go through that, not again.” 
Your fists loosened up a little, it wasn’t perfect, but it was definitely a start. You adjusted your robe, and sat next to Simon. “Thank you for being honest with me.” You said, reaching for his hand. Simon turned around, giving you a weak smile. You laughed, and leaned in for a kiss. 
In that moment, everything was perfect. Your hands fluttered at Simon’s waist, and his hand was around your neck, the other cusping your face. Simon’s tongue settled in your mouth, and your lip was inbetween his teeth. You found yourself pinning him to the log, moving up and down on his mouth, holding your breath like you’d drown.
Eventually, you both pulled back, gasping for air. You were both too tired to take it any further, and Simon peppered your cheek with soft kisses. You were grinning helplessly, staring lovingly into Simon’s eyes. He brushed your face, before resting his head on your shoulder.
Yes, it was definitely a start.
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melit0n · 3 months
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Half-Starved
- Oneshot
- Obsessive! Ghost/Reader
- Word Count: 3.2K
- Warnings: Descriptions of gore, canabalism as a metaphor for love, mentions of past domestic abuse, stalking
- Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52474849
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Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley was born hungry. 
Born with a relentless nagging feeling curled up right between his oesophagus and the squirming muscle of his stomach. From the very moment Simon opened his eyes, he was hungry for something he would never have. Left to starve in the gloom of the locked cupboard he was shoved into for not shutting up. He spent fifteen-odd years greedy for any drop of affection he could get. Anything he could grasp and hold onto, no matter how many bruises it would leave him with. No matter how long he would have to spend chained up like a bad dog in the corner of his room licking his wounds telling himself that it was worth it. That the blood was worth it. The pain was worth it. 
Anything to be acknowledged. 
Now, once again finding comfort in the gloom of his home, he is still hungry. Even more so. However, he didn’t like to be touched, because of him, but he still craved it. Maybe too much. He wanted, wants, to be held tight enough so he doesn’t break. Wants to be vulnerable. But he’s still afraid he’ll end up being a scared kid looking into the slit eyes of a snake again.
He blames his younger self for the predicament he’s found himself in, wants to sit down with him and shake him by the shoulders and ask why. Why he put himself through that for that long. But even so, he can’t blame the kid. He knows how hungry he is now; feels the scraping like dull claws against the soft spot between his liver and his spleen. He can only imagine what it was like for him as a kid. He’s blocked most of those memories out now, though.
He sits through the tugging, the pulling, through each dull meeting. Each dark night spent alone in his bunk. Each evening he spends licking wounds that just won't close. 
Unfortunately, this issue, this dilemma, is a hard one to fix. A hard want to satiate. Being a 6’4 SAS agent with a heavy Manchester accent and an apparently unapproachable demeanour, most people tending to avoid him in the streets, makes it a bit hard to gain attention, let alone affection.
But then there’s you. 
The first word that would come to his mind is kind.
Out of the blue, draped in moonlight and glimmering stars, you begin to appear everywhere. He doesn’t know if you’ve moved here recently, or if his brain has randomly decided to notice your presence, but you’re here. And there. And everywhere, really. 
He sees you in the local corner shop, holding tightly onto the baggy sleeve of whoever you’ve brought along for your midnight excursion, brushing your hand, intently, against that of your work friends on the crowded train you both take every day into the city. You use physical affection as not only a way to show affection itself, platonic or romantic, he isn’t particularly good at guessing unless it’s incredibly obvious, but as a form of comfort and encouragement as well. 
In less than a month into his leave, you’ve managed to become a staple in his civilian life. He sees you in the morning, always at the train station with breakfast and lunch in hand looking quizically around to see if you’ve missed your train like a doubtful deer. He knows you know you haven’t. You’re like him; you’ve got an obsession with time. While his is instilled by the harsh words of the military, yours is brought about by a tight work schedule. And maybe something else. He wonders what the something else is as you both board the already stuffed train, both standing in the same carriage full of warm, tired bodies. 
He sees you in the afternoon as well, sitting outside on a park bench with a friend eating lunch. While you talk, you have a habit of taking tiny crumbs off of your sandwich, flicking them off to the ratty pigeons that flock around your feet like moths to a flame. You always have the same lunch; the same sandwich bread from the same corner shop with the same filing. You have a thing with regularity, routine, as well, it seems. Just like him. 
Of course, he sees you in the evenings too. You both take the same train home, and almost always end up so close yet so far from each other on the carriage. Your work friend gets off at the stop two before yours and Simon’s; always leaving you with a pat on the shoulder and a closed eye smile, which you almost always return. You have a habit of doing a little jump when you get off the train which Simon finds quite cute. It’s almost as if you’re actually afraid of the gap.
Of the fall. 
Either way, you part ways without knowing you’re parting from him, leaving him incomplete in an odd way, and head back to your home. Ghost has an impulse to follow you, in between curiosity at where you live and to make sure you’re safe, but Simon urges himself to head home. To sleep. You linger in his thoughts each time he walks back. 
At first, he’s oddly amazed, a bit in awe, if he were honest, that you can give so much affection so easily, touch so easily, and receive it tenfold from the people around you. 
Then, there’s annoyance, titering on the fine, chipped-away line of anger. Like a mantra, he asks why it’s fair someone can give, give and keep on giving, let alone receive something back, and he can’t? How can you hold someone so closely and not be afraid of a knife in your back? 
Maybe that’s Ghost talking, he thinks. 
Eventually, he falls off the fine line of annoyance and anger into the muddied trench that is jealousy. Jealous not only of you, how you can give and receive so easily, but of the people in your life who get to experience the affection that you give to any warm body that passes by you. Said people who don’t understand how precious and rare that experience is to others. To him. He wants to taste it. Badly. 
Then, it morphs. Twists and turns like a dying thing, all red with chunks of fur sticking at odd angles, into attraction. Turning from a want to be held, a quiet plea to the void for you to keep him together for just a little bit longer, to a need. A need to kiss until both your lips are bloody and raw, bitten and chewed like a pomegranate, seeping your liquid life for him to drink as an elixir. He wants, needs, hungers to feel the comforting weight of your blood in the bottom of his stomach. 
He’s seen the way you kiss, and God above he needs it. Needs you. He doesn’t care if it’s the fleeting, platonic kisses you gift to your friends on the cheek (he wants you to take a chunk out of his cheek. Wants you to chew on the fat like the gum you always have in your mouth), or if it’s the rough ones you give to the men you bring home. The ones that have them chasing your lips for more, which you always allow because you never stop giving. 
Simon wants it. Ghost needs it. 
Consequently, the dull scratching of the claws in between his liver and his spleen grows sharper. After years of the scratching, the pulling, the tugging, he’d thought his hunger pang’s talons had grown weary, but he feels them. He feels the sharp ache like a pistol’s bullet and it bloody hurts. Has him hunched over on his bed trying to claw out his stomach because, for the first time in years, it's hurting him. 
And, for the first time in years, Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley decides to listen.  
As more time passes, more time spent getting soaked outside your house in the rain waiting for you to come home because you’re oddly late for all the time he’s known you, it changes again. Writhes around in his stomach and the fat in his veins, to something much worse. Much more harmful, at least, to you. In all the pain of his hunger, he contemplates taking chunks out of you. Maybe that will satiate the creature that squirms in his bloody viscera, laying claim to all of his innards in an attempt to get him to feed for once in his life. 
To allow him to know what it feels like to be full, instead of half-starved. 
Zoning out during meetings easily turns to daydreaming of taking one of his hunting knives to your flesh. Cut strips of skin, like your his sacrificial lamb to slaughter and devour, and finally put those butchering skills he gained to work somewhere other than on the field. He promises he’ll be delicate. Promises he’ll be kind. He wouldn’t dare show you the bloodthirsty rage his opponents see on the field.
Oh, and he can just imagine how you’d cry when he’d do so. He hates hearing people cry. After all, he’s haunted by the echoing sobs of someone lost to him in some distant, sun-stunned, sand-smothered land. But you? He doesn’t mind one bit. It’s another piece of you for him to consume, another piece of you that you can offer to him, gift to him, to bring you two together. 
He knows how much it takes to be vulnerable, so he wouldn’t even be able to describe what he’d do to taste your tears. To savour your salty sadness upon his tongue and be able to offer comfort. To lick your face dry and hold you in his arms; warm body against warm body just like he’s daydreamed about.
The more time that passes, the further he falls. 
On slightly rarer occasions, ones where he’s alone in the quiet of his room for longer than a human should be, he thinks about feeding your own lovingly cooked gore to you. Get’s him more riled up than he’d like to admit.
He can see it as clear as a freshly painted watercolour; a candle-lit dinner. Warm lighting. He’s tried his hardest to cover up the smell of his cigarettes for you, a scent that clings to his walls like mould, with roses. The smell of whatever he’s cooked for you permeating the air.
Soup sounds good, doesn’t it, love? 
It’s a macabre yet intimate fairytale that finds its way into his thoughts when all else is quiet. Leaves him tossing and turning in his bed because the scraping just won't stop. He swears he's bleeding out from the inside, and he’ll break his own kneecaps from how long he’s been on the floor at your feet begging you to make it stop. To stop the scratching, the itching, the nagging feeling. For you to clean and stitch up his wounds, new and old. 
He’s utterly enamoured with the thought. The idea of being that close to another human being. To be able to physically intertwine each other’s atoms through mutual consumption. To be sewn into the quantum patterns of your being. For you to feed him a proper meal like his parents never could.
He remembers being taught in his History class, the one with the old hag of a teacher who, with her droning words alone, convinced him not to take it for GCSEs, that in ancient times people used to eat each other as well. They did this so that in life, and eventually in death, the two of them would share an utterly unique bond, as well as each other's attributes. 
He only really remembers that because his mates laughed at the idea of aristocratic Victorians eating mummies like it was a five-star meal for weeks after that lesson. 
Even so, Ghost decides he could die happy on the field knowing that a part of you rested within him. That even when he was dead and gone, probably much earlier than he should be, you two would still be connected. He would have a piece of you, and you him.
And you, him. Mutual consumption. He doesn’t mind extra scars, extra wounds, because he knows you’ll lick them clean for him. Knows you wash them, stitch them up and check on them so they heal properly. 
In the end, that is the intimacy he dreams of. The affection he wants from you. 
His body is yours, as yours is his. Let him be yours. Let him feed. Let him fulfil you. 
The idea leaves him with a small smirk on his face that Soap nudges him in the ribs for with a prodding grin of his own. 
So, he makes a decision. For once, Simon and Ghost agree on something and work together as one instead of turning the other off for the greater good. 
The decision? To feed. To finally know what it is like to be full instead of half-starved. 
The scraping, the nagging, only grows stronger. 
He makes it a point to bump into you as much as he can before his next mission. 
Anywhere is a dinner table to him. On the crowded train, brushing his calloused hand against yours to ease the hunger for even a second. In the artificial lighting of the run-down corner shop, grabbing that bag of snacks that are just out of reach for you. Anything. Anything will do. But it only temporarily satiates the pang, doesn’t satisfy it. He just gets hungrier and hungrier and hungrier. 
He knows you’ve begun to notice him. You’re getting hungry too. He just hopes it’s in the same way he hungers for you. He hopes you’re hungry for him, and him alone.
At first, you attempt to offer him platonic comfort, which, God above, tastes so sweet. You offer soft touches on his shoulder. You gift your fingers intertwining with his as you cross the street to his home because he’s gone off on another bender trying to stop turning over in his bed and seeing the inside of a coffin that he has to dig his way out of again. 
‘N you’re just some poor night owl who’s trying to be kind. 
It becomes a routine. Both for you and him. You know he’ll come out of the pub at quarter to one and you know he’s expecting you. You’ll walk the same walk to his home, fumbling with his keys as he looks at you with the softest eyes you’ve ever seen on a man, hands intertwined. You’ll still carry him home and close the door softly with your foot as you lay him on his couch and get him a glass of water and whatever painkiller he has lying around. You’ll still stay as he chats, drunkenly, to you. You’ll take care of him and he’ll be whole again, for just a moment. 
At least until the morning comes, anyways. 
He hungers for your touch the same way water hungers for the cavities of people’s lungs. Hungers for your skin like he hungers for the nicotine in his cigarettes. Hungers and begs and pleads until you both fall like Icarus; wax melting and dripping off your backs as you try and crawl your way back to the sun, back to the light, while he drags you down into the depths of the deep blue. 
It's almost poetic.
In the midst of your drowning, the front door opening startles you out of your stupor. You do that a lot, Simon notes. You’ll black out and stare at a wall for hours, whether it be to awkward silence or a piece of music. He doesn’t question it, verbally, at least. From how easily you dissociate, he’d say it's something you picked up a long time ago. He’ll find out when, eventually. 
Carefully, you get up from the couch, approaching him as he walks over to the kitchen counter. The blue plastic bag he has rustles loudly in the spotless kitchen. 
“What’s that?” You ask, gently, placing a hand on his shoulder to get a better look. 
Please give me more. 
He lets out a knowing grunt and pulls out two round, red fruits. At first, you mistake them for apples, but the star-shaped top throws you off. 
“Pomegranates?”
He nods, looking into your eyes for some sort of approval. 
Gingerly, you take one of the pomegranates out of his hand, his fingers twitching as the pads of your digits brush against his. Your eyes dart back and forth between him and the fruit as you do so, careful to earn his compliance as you inspect the fruit. 
I’ll take anything you give. Just please give me more. 
They’re a deep red, almost crimson, and the shine reflects your face on its vermilion skin. 
“Chopping board,” He pauses, “please?”
Nodding absent-mindedly, you place the fruit back into his cupped hands. 
You open the drawer behind the both of you and pull out an old chopping board, red soaked and stained into the wood that Ghost just can’t seem to get out. You place it on the counter next to the pomegranates, along with a clean bowl he didn’t even hear you grab, and then find your way to the knife block. Hearing the subtle shink of a blade against wood, Ghost turns and scrutinizes you as you try to remember which knife is the fruit knife. Choosing the shortest one, you hold it by the handle, facing downwards just like Simon taught you, and place it on top of the chopping board with stitched-up hands and missing fingers from all the times he’s begged for more. From all the times you’ve said you have nothing more to give, but he knows you always have more. 
I’ll take even the spare and broken bits. Just look at me. Touch me. Let me be full.
You watch, intently, as he delicately cuts the top of the pomegranate off, slicing through the thick skin. Gently, he peels the layers of the pomegranate back, kissing each one with the tips of his fingers, letting it stain them something beautifully violent. He reveals the soft viscera inside, glancing back over to you again and again. Looking for something in your eyes you’re not sure you can give. He cuts it into quarters, continuously surprising you how utterly gentle he is with it, but not down to the skin. Leaving it in a fileted star-like shape, he turns it upside down on the bowl, and, using his hand, slowly shakes the seeds off of the fruit into the bowl. 
Once he’s finished, sure he’s got all of the seeds off, he sets the empty corpse aside and just…stares at the bowl of red. 
The silence is deafening. You want to fill it.
Simon takes a bloody scoop of the red viscera with his right hand, letting the pinkish juice dribble down his hand, his forearm, and drip onto the immaculately clean counter. 
The kitchen smells like bleach. It makes the back of your throat itch. 
He offers his hand out towards you, like an olive branch, like some lurid type of eucharist, and, like the obedient dog you are, you feast. 
“I love you.” He mumbles, fondly watching the muscle of your tongue dart out to catch the pinkish juice dribbling from your frothing maw. 
Be full. Let me fill you, and in turn, you fill me. Feed on me until there is nothing left. Let us decompose, intertwined. Please. Just say you love me, too. 
You’re eating, and you begin to repeat it, but Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley taught you well not to speak with your mouth full. 
-------------------
Note- If anybody believes this needs the Dead Dove: Do Not Eat tag, please let me know. I've seen much more horrific works without the tag, but I'm mildly worried this is inching into the category. 
I've spend the past week hearing Abbey by Mitski at every turn, so I wrote this out in an hour or two. I think if I heard that song or saw something about bloody pomegranates one more time I think I would've started chewing the flesh off of my own bones. Canabalism as a metaphor for love is a incredibly profound, and, in some ways, poetic literature device for the sheer destruction a toxic relationship can cause, so, I wanted to try my hand at it! And also to stop myself from clawing my face off from hearing anything about this canabalism metaphor from literally everywhere on the internet.
I apologise for this being description and inner monologue heavy. I wanted to focus on the horror aspects in this rather than the romance aspects, so I'm sorry if you didn't get what you came here for. 
Do tell if this feels too out of character for Ghost. It was originally written for König, but I changed it last minute. Thank you for sitting down and reading my work! It means a lot <3
I'll leave it up to you if the metaphor is really a metaphor in the end. 
167 notes · View notes
essencering · 9 months
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↳ summary: just the little ways the brothers scent you so when other's are around you that you are under THEIR protection, and you just think nothing of it because hey they are your boys!
↳ Tags: Gender Neutral Reader, Mammon (Obey Me!), Leviathan (Obey Me!), Lucifer (Obey Me!), Satan (Obey Me!), Asmodeus (Obey Me!), Beezelbub (Obey Me!), Belphegor (Obey Me!). SFW, Scenting, Headcanons.
writer's blurp: hc that the boys have a subtle way of making other demons stay away from you whenever they're not around via scenting.
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↳ Lucifer
out of his brothers, Lucifer is the most subtle in how he goes about placing his scent on you.
Lucifer's scent on you is always light, but it clings to your clothes when he stops you. something being out of place is what he tells you.
it doesn't happen often, so when Lucifer stops you to adjust your collar, and when he is sure that your jacket is sitting squarely on your shoulders.
sometimes it takes a moment, but once he is pleased that everything is perfect he sends you away with a gentle pat.
he's scent is also subtly weaved its way into his brother's natural scents-- it soothes Lucifer.
his scent is the easiest to pick up by other lower-level demons. even with his brother's scents clinging to you. a silent, but clear warning to not touch you.
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↳ Mammon
Mammon's scent seems to be a part of your person at this point. others call him bold with how he scents you, but the two of you are just together often enough for this to happen.
Mammon hardly has to scent you in front of someone or find an excuse to do so. he's in your space so often that his scent is just a permanent residence.
having his scent on you is comforting to Mammon. when he throws his arm over your shoulder or pulls you in for a hug to find how nicely his scent mingles with yours and makes his brain happy.
his scent is like a body spray that clings to your clothes. it's enough to steer anyone wanting to cause a problem.
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↳ Leviathan
Leviathan isn't one to consider himself bold enough to just outrightly scent you, but it's an action that helps to soothe his nerves if he's not having a good day.
so whenever he either notices that he's doing this or his brothers point it out Leviathan becomes a cute little mess over it. because he's not trying to claim your person as his own, it just happens!!! he swears!!!
his envy will only play a part in scenting when his own scent is too faint or if someone dared to try and rub their scent over his own. others often forget how powerful he is, and if his scent isn't enough of a reminder then the one who was so bold needs a reminder.
his scent is like holding hands, soothing in its own way and a reminder that you are someone he sees as important in his life.
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↳ Satan
tries to be the most sneaky about scenting you, almost like Lucifer, but in his own special way that wouldn't raise any eyebrows or questions if you truly asked what he was doing.
Satan is always careful about scenting you, but sometimes he slips up and just simply allows himself to truly scent you properly rather than being sneaky.
an action that always makes you smile, and sometimes giggle which makes Satan simply lean more into scenting you. losing himself momentarily at the sound and sight of your joy.
he can get snippy whenever anyone points it out, especially Lucifer, but he will often deny it despite how he will rub his wrist against yours all while doing so.
Satan's scent is similar to his books. ancient, comforting, and powerful a clear warning to those, not his brothers or those close to Satan outside of his family with the clear message being to stay away from you.
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↳ Asmodeus
is the least subtle about scenting you, but if his closeness should ever truly bothers you he will stop. even if he truly wants to finish scenting you properly.
Asmodeus scents you because he really and truly adores you. his family's special person. Asmodeus scents you because he sees you as a part of their family, even if he hasn't had a chance to paint your nails to truly make it official.
if his scent is pointed out by his brothers he isn't ashamed of it. he just smiles, all cute and happy when he says that it makes you smell like he's welcoming you into their family. no one says anything, the feeling is mutual.
his scent reminds others of his baths, fragrant, but a scent that clings to one's skin. a clear warning to stay away from how it clings to your skin.
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↳ Beelzebub
Beelzebub's scent sticks to you from his clothes. you are absolutely swimming in his clothes which tickles a part of his brain just right that he just can't help, but pick you up and nuzzle his face in your hair.
Beelzebub is unaware of how his scent has subtly been clinging to your person until he is laying in bed with you during movie nights with you, Mammon, and Levi. his scent seems to be just as strong in your bed as Mammon's scent is.
you sit there wrapped in his jacket, leaning against Mammon whose chin is resting on your head, Levi's tail wrapped around your leg, while you card your hand through his hair and with your free hand hold onto his.
seeing you wrapped up in his clothes and his scent mingling with your own and his brother's is so comforting. Beel cannot resist just trying to push himself closer to you. which he does, and Mammon makes a fuss but just grumbles with Beelzebub pulling the two of you into a hug.
his scent is very much like the hugs he pulls you into. comforting there and if you should ever need it willingly given.
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↳ Belphegor
Belphegor seems to subconsciously scent you when the two of you either sleep together or doze off with one another. even if it's just his head on your lap or shoulder.
Beelzebub is actually the one to bring it up since his scent clings heavily to your person. despite how Belphegor will deny it, saying that he doesn't have a reason to scent you while Beel just smiles at him.
is honestly the most startled to realize that he's been scenting you. the two of you did not start your true relationship on the best foot or the best impression of his character.
not after what he did, but... he still scented you. he shouldn't scent you, but he does it feels wrong to not do it even after trying to actively avoid doing it. Belphegor feels like he can't relax, that he can't sleep unless he lets himself have this one little selfish, greedy thing to feel at ease. once he stops fighting it his own body is able to feel settled once more.
it is comforting. to have his scent on you and even more to smell how his brother's scents mingle on your person. helps him to sleep much easier, knowing that you are safe and knowing his brother's scents are mixed with his own make this doubly so.
his scent is like a warm blanket, comforting and present. a reminder that you are safe with him, and a reminder to others that he won't show those who aim to harm you mercy.
535 notes · View notes
melloeyed · 10 months
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Double Trouble
Johnathan Ohnn (The Spot) X GN! Reader
A/N: The reader has the same superpowers as The Polka-Dot Man from The Suicide Squad only with a few added cosmic quirks. Enjoy!
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On the busy streets of Brooklyn, The Spot and Y/N walk past the oblivious citizens, donning their ‘inconspicuous’ disguises. Spot only had on a loose grey gym jacket, green sunglasses, and a brown wrinkled fedora, while Y/N wore a orange bucket hat, purple glasses, and an oversized red Hawaiian shirt.
Their disguises barely even covered the multiple spots on their pale skin. How the hell did they even go unnoticed?
The disguised duo walked towards the convenience store window, cupping their hands on the window in sync as they lean their heads in to get a better view.
“Ok, remember the plan?” Spot whispered.
“This is so stupid…” Y/N muttered.
“It’ll work, trust me!”
“Yeah, right. My idea was better!”
“Oh, just shut up and follow my lead!”
Y/N rolls their multicolored dot eyes as they follow Spot in the convenience store, re-running his plan in their head.
‘Distract the cashier while I steal the money from the ATM machine. Got it?’
Y/N sighs, walking towards the food isles. They clutch onto their rainbow backpack straps in anticipation as they peek over one the food isles, glancing at Spot, waiting for the signal.
“Excuse me, do you have uh, an ATM machine?” The Spot asked the cashier. “Yeah, around here in the back.” The cashier replied, barely looking at Spot.
“Preferably not chained to the wall…?” Spot muttered.
“What?”
“Uh, nothing!”
Y/N’s dot eyes lit up when the Spot looked at them, gesturing his head towards the cashier while walking towards the ATM. Y/N clenched their spotted fists as they take a deep breath, squeezing their eyes shut.
‘You got this, Y/N. You got this!’ They whispered to themself.
Y/N slowly jogs towards the cashier, rolling their shoulders in preparation. They clear their throat, trying to think of a distracting conversation to start.
“Uh, hi! I, uh…heard there was this…beverage…snack that uh…just came out. And I was wondering uh, where…do you sell it here…? If you do sell it here… can you, uh…tell me…where you…sell it? Which is…here…?” Y/N asked, sheepishly. The cashier just kept his eyes glued to the phone as a short pause passed.
Real clever, Y/N.
“What? I have no idea what you mean, man.” The cashier said, not even bothering to look at them. Embarrassment and frustration began to bubble in Y/N’s chest as they quickly tried to think of another distraction. Looking towards Spot’s direction, they tried their best not to facepalm when they see him struggling with the ATM.
Y/N though that this plan was the most ridiculous! It was boring, slow-paced, and embarrassing! They glance back towards the cashier, partially relieved that he didn’t bother to look up. Looking around quickly, Y/N tries to distract the cashier again. They burst out into fake laughter.
“Hahahaha! Hahaha! Y-You’re so funny! You don’t…know what I mean! Hahaha! You’re a…funny guy!” They said, with the most ‘convincing’ laughs.
Y/N was not good at this.
They quickly stopped their laughing and tried to think of another diversion, clearing their throat again.
“Uh… w-what I mean is-“
“Hey, who left this ATM on the sidewalk?” Someone said outside.
Oh, shit.
Y/N heart began to quicken when the cashier finally looked up. They both turn towards the loud banging noise from the back of the store along with the frustrated grunts that came with it. The Spot was trying to forcefully push the whole ATM through the smaller portal by bouncing on top of it. Repeat, tried. Y/N couldn’t take it anymore.
“Are you fucking serious?!” They shouted.
“Yo, what you doing back here, man?” The cashier said, picking up a bat and surprisingly ignoring Y/N. (Which offended them.)
“Nothing, nothing. Everything’s cool, man. All good.” Spot said, jumping on top of the ATM to push it even further into the portal, “Just forgot my PIN number-“
“Get yourself out of here!”
The cashier tries to hit Spot with the bat, but thankfully he dodges it in time. On instinct, Y/N runs towards the cashier, balling their fists preparing to attack. The multicolored polka dots on their skin quickly began to glow along with their dot eyes.
Before quickly flickering off like a lightbulb.
Y/N looks at their hands, baffled by the failed attempt to use their powers.
“What?! No! Not now!” They shouted.
“Uh, Y/N a little help here!” Spot shouted, cowering away from the cashier’s swings. Y/N runs after the two trying to land a blow on the back of cashier’s head, only to end up slipping on a soda can and falling hard on their butt. On the ground, Y/N rolls their eyes when they hear Spot’s pathetic comments towards the aggressive man while he dropped different products from the isles.
“Sir, please just let us rob you!”
“There’s no reason to bring wood into this!”
“We’ve never robbed anybody in our life, please don’t make this a bad experience for us!”
“Bad experience? I’m trying to run a business here!” The angry cashier replied.
“With your goddamn head in the clouds?!” Y/N snarked at him, getting back on their feet.
Only to end up slipping and falling on their face.
“Why is the floor so slippery?!”
This was the duo’s very first robbery attempt. Obviously, Spot and Y/N didn’t have the best resources at hand when it came to being bad guys, but they were never the type of criminals to give up easily. Especially, Spot.
Y/N had a strong feeling that her partner in crime was a whole lot nervous than they were for their first robbery. Y/N was already fed up at the soft attempts of beginning their villainy, but can you blame them? They just wanted to get dangerous, kick some ass, and burn down buildings! But, the Spot was always there to dial them down.
Ever since the explosion incident that happened a year ago, the duo agreed to stick together and began to get ahold of their newfound cursed powers. They had pretty awesome powers too! I mean what could be better than having ability to make portals that can go to anywhere and anyplace you desire or summon glowing multicolored polka dots with omnipotent destructive powers?
There were a few gimmicks of their powers here and there, but to be honest, they could barely control it!
And now here the two were.
One running away from an angry cashier with a bat, while the other continues to slip and fall on the cluttered slippery floor with each step they take.
After the longest 23 seconds of their lives, Spot finally managed to trap the cashier in a nearby portal and Y/N finally gets up without slipping. Y/N helps Spot get his foot unstuck from one of the shelves. After the two quickly run towards the ATM, they place soda cans on the ground to push the large machine more easily.
“I told you this was a bad plan!” Y/N spat.
“Oh, yeah, that figures considering how much of a big help you were back there!” Spot spat back.
“Hey, the floor was already slippery before and if you weren’t such a klutz back there, I would’ve already handled him!” Y/N said.
“Well, what was I supposed to do?! Just sit there and let him hit me?!” Spot fired back.
“Hmm, I dunno maybe teleport him outta here! I’m sure it doesn’t take a genius!”
“Hey, I can’t think straight when I’m under pressure! You’ve known that since the day we met! Stop treating me like I’m a wuss!”
“That’s because you are one, when it comes to situations like this! Plus, my plan would’ve been a whole lot better!”
“Your plan was nuts!”
“I just said that we should walk into the store, knock out the cashier, time him up, lock him in the janitors closet, get the money, and get rid of the evidence by burning down the building!”
“With the cashier inside?!���
“…Yeah!”
“You are a very violent person and a bad sidekick.”
“What? I like violence! Plus, my powers are more cooler than yours so who the hell are you callin’ a sidekick?”
“Whatever, let’s just hurry up and get this ATM machine out of here before the police-“
“Why do people say ATM machine?” A voice said.
Spot and Y/N jolt up, looking around in surprise. “Huh? Who said that?” Spot asked.
The duo looked behind them and see Spider-man himself, hanging upside-down from the ceiling, casually eating a beef empanada. “The ‘M’ stands for ‘machines’!“ He finished.
“Spider-Man!” Spot and Y/N said in sync.
The duo felt the floor disappearing beneath their feet as they fell through an accidental portal, only to end up reappearing in the next isle, falling harshly from the ceiling to the floor. Spot and Y/N’s disguises only end up coming off during the fall, revealing their bare, pale, and spotted bodies.
The Spot only had black spots of different sizes covering his pale lanky body, his face being completely blank with only the largest black spot plastered across his face resembling a scribbled eye.
Y/N had multicolored polka dots covering their body, the bright colors contrasting from their light grayish skin. Their face is completely blank as well, with only two mismatched color dot eyes to show their expressions.
They groan in pain as Spot helps them up from the floor, nearly slipping again, but regains balance. They dust themself off as they look forward, seeing Spot jumping around in preparation as Spider-Man walks in front of them.
“Ah! Spider-Man, wow,” The Spot began, before he hit his foot against a box, yelping in pain, “This is real!”
Y/N tilts their head in exasperation at their partner’s action. “Johnathan, what are you-“
“Alright, Y/N, prepare your introduction.” He whispered back.
“My what?” Y/N whisper-shouted.
Spider-Man glances back and forth between the spotted duo, baffled, yet immersed by their bizarre and wacky appearance. “So are you like a cow or a dalmation?” He asked gesturing at Spot. He then glanced at Y/N and gestured at them, “And are you like supposed to be a clown or a painting?”
“I am…The Spot.”
Y/N looks at Spot with a, ‘you’ve got to be kidding me’ face. “I’m sure that sounded a lot cooler in your mind.” They address. Spot just ignored them and stretched his arms out to them in a presenting manner.
“And this is my trusty sidekick…The Dot.”
“I never agreed to…never mind.” Y/N said.
Spot leans against the isles, propping his elbow on it, while placing his hand on his hip. Bread begins to spill out of the holes in his torso.
Y/N looks at him and quickly folds their arms leaning against the other side of the isle, nearly slipping in the process, trying to look cool and intimidating.
“We meet again, Spider-Man.” Spot began, ‘menacingly’.
“And we have a lot to catch up on.” Y/N finished, ‘menacingly’.
Spider-Man just laughs, pointing his empanada at the duo in an amused manner.
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sunflower1experiment · 5 months
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Fool’s gold
~~
I assumed it to be strange, the journalist was a nosy one. Always asking questions, why did I come here, she already knew my background as is: What’s the point of prying further!?
Herbalist; |Name| Praia, It was complicated on my end with the job I had to help the sick with just herbs was different, difficult. Even the black lung plagued the country with its rounds, just feeding people calming herbs to calm the pain wasn’t enough for the inevitable death so I made sure to give them those before passing.
Writing down their signature consent, that way if anyone accused me I could show my proof: yet it never calmed my nerves seeing someone die, and I could not stop it. So I called myself the painless death, people won’t suffer as long as I’m able to calm them down.
But when Norton and I first met it was as if he held respect for me, when even he knew that I loathed myself. He told me, “Life happens, people die. Best to move on.” Such a statement.
As if he was so used to seeing death. My inner self as a child was coming back to haunt me, saying he was right and though I may not have had a bad childhood, sometimes I relish in what my parents said about me. ‘My little herbal remedy!’
Is that why?
I get up weakly, then gasp at the sight. Running towards Alice, she falls forward in my arms and I immediately grab a few herbs, Ashwagandha: scientific name for it but in other cases its used as a powder to wake up from when drinking warm milk or water. She didn’t wake up immediately but showed signs to be conscious.
Looking up to the perpetrator my eyes widen, “Nort….”
My body freezes when the pickaxe flies past me, hitting the dirt but without even thinking about my surroundings I ran. Grasping for whatever reason to not believe it was him, poor Alice she was abruptly taken by me and we’re both stumbling around this curse of a woods.
Suddenly she pushes me back and we both scream as he charges past. Alice gasps would fill my ears while my grunts turn into gasps of horror as Norton hobbles towards me. I get up, backing away to avoid him.
However, when I try to leave the man’s larger hand grabs my face and he leans in. A shaky sigh leaves my lips as he kept all his focus onto me. My breathing starts to falter while he began rubbing his thumb over it slowly.
A raspy chuckle erupts from him when he saw how I react, he presses his lips onto mine. My eyes widen, his iron grip pulling me close as I try to keep the space between us, once we pull back there was a moment of soft breathing.
“You’re the woman that calmed the pain on my eye…” he sets the pickaxe down, hugging me in the process. “How could I not recognize you?”
“Norton, what’s happening?”
He walks me to a mirror in the hut, I look at the mirror in silence until he wraps a hand around my neck and his face came to view. “To you I look scary but to me…you’re normal. And I can’t help but want to chase you..”
We look at each other until he lets my neck go. “Come on.” Following behind him I start to wonder where Alice went…
“Woah.” I gasp, then get up. Only to stop when Norton’s soft whines fill my ears, laying back with a relieving smile. My hands reach over absentmindedly and I stroke his head. “It was just a dream, that was very silly of me to be afraid of you my sweet Prospector.”
I gave him a small kiss on the cheek then go back to sleep.
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obnoxioussmiley · 2 years
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Seeing Red
Pairings: mainly Jake Lockley X Reader, hints of Marc and Steven X Reader
Warnings: Death, descriptions of blood and gore, hints of a panic attack from reader, fluff with a dash of angst
Summary: After loving you in the shadows of Marc and Steven, Jake finally shows himself to protect you.
There is honestly not enough Jake Lockley content out here I am STARVING but please enjoy
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You weren’t supposed to be here. You never should’ve gotten dragged into there, yet there you were. You were Marc and Steven’s weakness, they would always choose you over anything else, and Harrow had taken this to his advantage. In attempt to get the scarab, he put you in the line of danger. And it would’ve worked, if it weren’t for Jake Lockley.
You and Steven had been walking the empty streets of London after your date, well into the night. Marc was contentedly watching, he wished he was fronting, but seeing how happy you were after eating out at your favorite restaurant was enough to satisfy him.
It was barely enough to satisfy Jake, as well. He had been watching from behind the scenes for months, getting to know you just as well as Marc and Steven, without either of them or you knowing. And so he was just as capable as making you happy. When he had the chance to front, he’d leave you gifts and do some of your chores, little things he knew would make you happy without drawing awareness to his existence. Of course, it sucked when you thought it could only be Marc or Steven. He’d tidy up your kitchen, and you would thank one of them, and having no other explanation, they would assume they did it during a lapse of insomnia where they didn’t remember it. It was all worth it for Jake, seeing your face light up with joy, and that stunning smile would appear.
But today, it didn’t matter. When the ambush happened, Steven gave control to Marc, who was better between the two of them to fight off enemies and protect you. And he was doing a good job at keeping up, you shielded behind him a few feet away.
However, one thug managed to sneak around past him and come up behind you. They slammed the hilt of a handgun hard against the back of your head, pulling out a short cry and effectively knocking you ti the ground.
Marc immediately looked back at you from the sound, seeing you holding your head in pain. And your attacker was pointing the gun straight at you.
All three alters felt rage and worry surge through them, but none as violent as Jake’s, giving him the power to take control. He worked fast, taking out the guy behind you and slashing through the rest, not stopping until they were all finished.
When you finally regained your senses, you looked up at him through blurred vision. As you started to focus back in, you immediately became aware of the metallic scent in the air and the red stained area. Bodies were laid out in front of you, blood seeping out of fatal wounds, flesh ripped open and glistening in the moonlight.
Standing in the middle of it all was Jake, heaving deep breaths while giving a satisfied look at the carnage around him. Marc and Steven’s reflections stared up in complete shock and awe from a red puddle at his feet.
“Oh my god…” You muttered out, still shaking from the disorientation and the fear from the situation.
Jake turned towards you, seeing you staring at the mess with wide eyes. Your breathing started to pick up pace and he hastily made his way over, the suit disappearing into thin air. Kneeling down in front of you, he pulled you into his chest, hiding it all from your line of sight and wrapping his arms around you.
“You’re okay,” He whispered, rubbing circles into your back to calm you down, “You’re safe, nothings gonna hurt you, I promise.” The all too familiar scent filled your nose and you closed your eyes, relaxing into his hold.
As your breathing slowed down, your brain started to catch up with what happened. You knew Marc and Steven well enough to tell who was who, and to know this wasn’t either of them. Suddenly aware, you mumbled out, “You’re- you’re not them.” He tensed up and his arms around you tightened, as if preparing for the worse. “You’re not Marc or Steven.”
He sighed, resting his chin in top of your head. “No. No I’m not.” It was silent for a bit, you waiting for him to go on as he figured out what to say. But he didn’t really know the right place to start. “My name is Jake. Jake Lockley.”
You hummed in response. Shifting to wrap your warms around his torso, you melted further into him, silently letting him know you were accepting him. “Thank you, Jake.”
“Don’t thank me.” He wondered if you could hear his heart racing and pressed a kiss into the top of your head. “I’m not letting anyone else lay a finger on you, alright?”
Marc and Steven watched from their reflections, completely dumbfounded at the revelation of a third alter. But also entirely grateful and somewhat proud of what Jake had done.
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ithaquakisser · 1 year
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Look Only At Me
Synopsis; Your eyes are his and only his. Why must you look someone else's way?
CW; Unhealthy relationship, obsession, obsessive behavior, possessiveness, suggestive themes, slight NSFW
MINORS DNI. (18+)
WC; ≈1.2K
Note; I was going through it writing this because I literally made myself blush— 😭 I had a lot of fun writing this though, that's for sure! I noticed "Desire" received so many notes so I decided to write something similar to it. I have to admit I am a bit embarrassed since this was a bit self-indulgent... But I hope you guys enjoy! 🫶 (This was written at 3am...)
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Ithaqua gravely detested you. Your presence brought about such profound feelings of resentment in his heart. Such utter feelings of indignation must be buried in silence. Let the wind cry and roar in spite of your presence whilst you turn a blind eye to his misery. Must you pull at his heartstrings each time you part your lips to speak? Must you leave him in dismay every moment your eyes avert from his?
What shall he do to put an end to such torment? What could remedy such agony? You were akin to a dove, oh so pure, so lovely, oh so naive. You dared not turn his way. You were a mere dove, one that he wishes to sink his teeth into. One that he longs to maintain for his selfish desires. One that he yearns to pluck your beloved white feathers and leave you flightless. That way, you could never leave him.
You were a nuisance. You were nothing more but a burden to him. Yet, why must the wind cry upon your absence? He could never bring himself to understand such a thing. Must you cast him aside like worthless dross? Let your eyes wander, longing for something, someone more than him. Such a thought only churns feelings of displeasure. Ithaqua bit his lip in vexation, for he believed this was something he shan't ever let happen.
Your chest heaved sporadically whilst you panted. The distinctively tall hunter towered over you, his ice axe in hand as droplets of crimson met the snow beneath your feet. A flame ignited in his ember eyes as it locked with yours, he could hear his heart beating brutally in ire while he gazed upon your face of dismay. A sly leer on his face as he approached you. You took a step back, letting out a shaky gasp as you met the walls behind you.
Your teammates were nowhere to be seen or heard. In the distance, you could faintly hear cipher machines. The young male had dropped his ice axe behind him, hunching over slightly to meet your face. Raven hues fixated onto yours, he was abnormally close for comfort. “Ithaqua…?” You uttered breathily. With a menacing smile beneath his mask, he gripped your face, causing you to yelp.
“Y/N… Why must you torment me so? Do you hate me, Y/N?” Ithaqua spoke your name like a prayer, an incantation. “Why do you avoid me?” He interrogated with a scowl. “Are you… afraid of me, Y/N?” He lifted your chin to face him, his voice alone was enough to send shivers down your spine. “No… Of course not, Ithaqua.”
“Then… Why do you run from me, Y/N?” Ithaqua gripped your face tighter, his nails sinking lightly into your skin. Your heart fiercely pounded against your chest as he spoke. Snowflakes licked at your hair as scarlet beads spilled from your lips from your earlier encounter. “Tell me… Do I scare you?” He probed as he ran his thumb over your bloodied lips.
“Fear certainly wouldn’t look like this, now, would it…?” Leisurely, you reached your trembling hands towards his mask. You pulled it off, letting it drop to the snow beneath the two of you. A shade of scarlet red painted over his pale cheeks as his onyx eyes met yours, taken aback by your gesture. A faint cool breeze grazed against both of your skins as he leaned closer, releasing his grip on you.
Ithaqua intertwined his hands with yours instead, pinning them against the wall as he leaned toward the crook of your neck. “Don’t you run from me anymore.” He murmured, his hot breath against your skin. “I’m sorry…” You mumbled in response. “Must you always look someone else’s way?” He muttered.
“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…” You repeated yourself like a broken record. You could not bear to upset him like this. “Then promise me one thing, Y/N.” “Yes, Ithaqua?” He leaned in close to your ear, his thumb caressing your hand as he whispered. -“Look only at me.”-
“Of course…” You obliged. “Good…” His lips curled into a small smile as he tenderly kissed your neck. You winced as he scraped his teeth against your bare neck, Ithaqua emitting a small chuckle in response. “Relax…” His warm tongue ran over your flesh, sinking his teeth into you as he sucked. You moaned as he trailed love bites down your neck, working himself down to your collarbone. You called out his name under your breath, lost in his touch.
You had flinched upon the sound of sirens wailing throughout the vicinity. “Ithaqua—” The hunter silenced you, placing a slender finger on your lips. “We’re not done yet.” Spoke the male as he raised your chin, his lips brushing against yours. You melted into the kiss, enveloping your arms around his waist.
Oh, how he gravely detested you. How you'd so easily succumb to him. How you'd still beam at him regardless of his actions. It all made him sick, sick to his stomach. Sick in ways he still didn't quite understand. Perhaps, his heart would find peace with you wrapped around his finger. Seeing it all come into play as you melted upon his touch. He wondered how far is it that you can go. How long is it before you break?
A hand intertwined with his, and another buried deep into his platinum waves. His soft lips were pressed against yours, your tongue dancing with his. Ithaqua's face was flushed with a ruby tint, burning against your skin. Small strands of hair brushed upon your warm cheeks, his body pressed against yours. He was greedy in every way, shape, and form. His touch demonstrates his burning desire, one that is everlasting.
His fingers trailed down your body, begging for more of your touch. He tasted the bitter, metallic taste of blood from your lips, a piece of work done by his own hands. He left you breathless, gasping for air, pleading for more. A thin strand of saliva connected you two, his touch lingering on your skin. The hunter dared not look at you, unable to comprehend the feelings churning inside of him.
How greatly he wanted to strike you down at that very moment. The very moment you laid your delicate eyes on him with such adoration. How dare you gaze upon him with great delicacy? How dare you stir these feelings in his heart? These were all words left unspoken as he reached a trembling hand towards you. Ithaqua's heart pounded frantically in his chest as you took his hand into yours. He wished he could run away, hide away from you, you who brings him torment.
You never cease to pull at his heartstrings like a lyre, and he despised you for it.
Warm rays of sunshine shone upon your face as you awoke in the manor once again. Disoriented you were, you had no recollection of the events that occurred subsequently. You trailed your fingers down your neck, the sound of wind ringing in your ears like chimes. Your cheeks were tinted a shade of carmine, and the series of events prior replayed in your mind ever so vividly. His lips on your cold neck, his fingers tracing stars into your skin. He had left you with a feeling you never felt before in your chest.
Yet, oh, how he detested you so.
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thegoldencontracts · 1 month
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Schrodinger's Horror
Summary: You ask your octopus boyfriend to watch a horror movie with you. What happens next?
He accepts, and he's so smug about it.
Doesn't react to jumpscares, probably predicted them beforehand
The first movie you watch is some alien horror, and he is so unfazed that you can't believe it. He had to be pretending to keep up his sly business persona.
Nope. He's not acting. He's seen predators that look way weirder under the sea.
Will absolutely tease you for being scared. He's highly amused by your reactions, thinks they're adorable.
At the end of it all, though, he'll probably offer to let you sleep with him for the night - since you so clearly need comfort.
This same things happens with other movies are well, whether it's Psychological horror, or Slasher, or folk.
Azul is clearly great with horror, right?
He sucks with any sort of viral/parasitic horror. It scares him so much.
Absolutely tries to act like he isn't scared, even if he is. Refuses to admit it no matter what you do.
If/When he does realize it's futile to try and act tough, you can expect him to be clingy.
Probably has a death grip on your arm the entire time, maybe even your whole body if you're close enough.
Afterwards, he will make you sleep with him.
Prime moment to give a taste of his own medicine. He gets so flustered about it.
"Y-You ought to sleep with me tonight," Azul said, clearly trying to sound like his usual, composed self. It didn't work, though. Not when he was clinging to you like a koala.
As much as you wanted to indulge him, you wanted revenge for all the times he'd teased you more.
"Why?" You asked. "I didn't really pay enough attention to be scared by this one, and you're never scared. After all, it's merely a poorly budgeted films isn't it? Being scared would be rather illogical."
Azul's face flushed further as you threw his words back at him with those last two sentences. He looked torn. After a while, he finally spoke.
"I- find myself illogically frightened." He said. "As you and I tend to sleep together whenever you are frightened by such films, I oblige you to return the favor. Please."
He really was desperate, wasn't he? You had to admit this was pretty adorable. You should watch those creepy parasite horrors more often, since it meant getting to see Azul like this.
"How could I possibly resist that logic?" You said. Though, unable to resist throwing his words back at him just one more time, you added. "Or that adorably frightened face?"
"S-Shut up!"
"Karma is a cruel mistress, Azul. A cruel mistress indeed."
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random-twst-things · 4 months
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*Watching Idia from a distance*
Mc/Y/N/Yuu: yep *sighs lovingly* that's the one I have a crush one
Mc/Y/N/Yuu, turning to face Jack: Thoughts?
Jack: And prayers
Mc/Y/N/Yuu: WHA- WHY?
Jack, side eyeing them HARD: 😐
Mc/Y/N/Yuu: WHAT?? jack, if this is about his physic, it doesn't even matter!
Jack: yes it does, what if he needs to carry you to SAFTEY and he can't?
Mc/Y/N/Yuu: Okay, true- BUT! What if he's the guys that have a sleeper build?
Jack, looking back at idia: 🤨
Jack, back to Mc/Y/N/Yuu: Hard to tell, especially with that big jacket
Mc/Y/N/Yuu: Don't worry, I'll find out somehow
Jack: What do you mean by that?
Mc/Y/N/Yuu: 🙂
Jack: WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY THAT??
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Dividers from @/cafekitsune
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pokegalla · 2 months
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Requested/traded by @veiled-rebel
I actually forgot about this one??? Well fuck it. Part 2 but whole different fandom-
Angel Dust and Husk with a crazy rich S/o who loves spoiling them
Angel Dust:
* Oh he knew you were rich honey, let’s be honest. You got the cash, he’ll flirt and get some after a quick fuck. A win win scenario. At least….that was his initial intentions. But damn he actually started liking you. You were….different to say the least. You both exchanged numbers and the rest is history✨
* He had his guard up when you kept spoiling him. Did you want another favor? Did you need something from him? No? Just a gift? He’s not used to so much gifts without expecting bad news attached to it. He might need some time to get used to it…..(constant reassurance really helps too!)
* Once he’s more comfortable, he’ll happily wear the outfits you picked out for him! Even on the outings to the mall or fancy restaurants! But honestly nothing makes him feel more comfortable with you than you giving him so much freedom as well. You gave him your credit card?! To buy anything he wants?! That’s a major trust thing holy shit- he almost feels like he’s using you. But your reassurance makes him feel at ease.
* He’s never felt this loved before….and he’s got you to thank.
Mini story time!!!
You watched as the spider demon came downstairs. Your face flushed as you saw him wearing the dress you had bought that was custom made just for him. He chuckled and closed your jaw that was hanging low from shock.
“Gonna attract flies hun,” he chuckled, a little flattered at your reaction as well.
“Heh….i hope I’m attracting your kisses too,” You answer back with a playful grin.
Angel giggled a little, “Keep that up and you’ll be attracting MUCH more tonight~” You both share a kiss and walk out together, hand in hand with no shame as all of hell watched you too. You didn’t mind what they said. What mattered was him and his happiness.
That was enough for you❤️
Husk:
* He knew instantly you were a rich kinda person. As a bartender, he picks up on stuff like this all the time. He actually didn’t like you at first. Thought you were some kind of showboat. But you did shock him when you said you were more focused on him than anything else. He was a tough nut to crack but after many visits to his bar and getting to know each other, he FINALLY gave you a chance.
* Spoiling this lil shit was HARD. He didn’t like a lot of things. But you did get his favorite booze. And booze of all kinds. He actually was impressed by how much you knew but told you not to spoil him so much- but his favorite gift was a cute bow tie you got for him. He wears it to special events✨
* You really do try to respect his wishes on not spoiling him but seeing him look so exhausted after a long day of dealing with crap at his bar? Oh you HAVE to do something! So slick little you actually decided on the perfect date! A date to the spa! You never seen him get so relaxed before! Thoooough he did figure out you were trying to spoil him again…but this time he won’t complain✨
* He finds it hard to argue when you look so happy…..
Mini story time!!!
“Yah think yah reeeeal slick don’tcha?” Husk said suddenly while sipping his martini.
CURSES- he’s figured it out already?! You had JUST finished the massages! Oh damn here comes the scolding….huh? Wait he’s giving you a headpat?
“I’ll hand it to yah. I didn’t even realize it. I’ll let yah get away with this one…..” He grumbled a bit.
Your eyes sparkles, “HAH!!! FUCK YEAH!!!”
He actually smiles a little as he sees you practically glowing, so happy that you spoiled him. You were so weird…..
Fuck he loves you-❤️
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zer0pm · 1 year
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Imagine demanding Luis to unlock your chains. When he doesn’t, you take matters into your own hands.
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A/N: DID SOMEONE SAY PART 2 OF THIS PIECE?!
You did and I’m grateful for all the love that has been thrown for my work. So here’s me giving some of that love back. Hope you enjoy 🙏
Warning: SMUT AHEAD. Look away, minors! Look away! Avert your eyes from the sexual content! Shoo! Begone!
Warning 2: It’s quite long so mentally prepare yourself.
.
.
“I still didn’t catch your name.”
The cheek on this guy. Using the fact that he holds the key to your restraints as a bargaining chip to become familiar with you. As if he hadn’t just forced you into a partnership with him already. The absolute nerve. You had more important things to do, such as finding Leon and the president’s daughter. And this Luis Serra was effectively wasting your precious time. Well, two can play this game.
You start by offering him an inviting smile before relaxing your hands until your palms pressed flat against his chest. The man didn’t seem to fully register your subtle movement until you slid them upwards, feeling the fine leather beneath your fingertips. The motion takes him by surprise, his eyes following your touch. He then casts an inquisitive glance your way.
“¿Que haces?” Apparently he wasn’t expecting this, convinced that you didn’t much care for him and thus was taken so off guard that he slipped into his native tongue. He must have remembered himself right after as he repeated the question, making sure that it sounded more direct. “What are you doing?”
“What does it look like?” Voice comes out in a low, sultry drawl as you grip the lapel of his jacket with one hand, gently tugging at the material. “I’m about to give you what you want. But I’m going to need you to come closer.”
Once you were certain that you had his complete attention while also making sure that you didn’t lose yourself in the mesmerizing grey of his eyes, you make your move. With your other hand, as best as the chains allowed, you reach for the key that was lodged in the lock of your chains. Disguising your intention, you run your fingers down the expanse of his chest in an explorative manner. This earned an appreciative hum from the Spaniard as he leans his head towards you expectantly.
Too easy.
Mindful not to look down between you two so as to not give yourself away, you lean in as well while also blindly searching for the key. “My name is…” you whisper. His bated breath mingles with yours, the lids of his eyes heavy, grey growing dark in anticipation. Another inch from either one of you and the gap will close. Just as your fingertips touched the end of the key, something warm firmly grips your hand. A sudden chill runs down your spine.
You can hear the reverb of something between a scoff and a chuckle come from Luis’ lips. “Nice try,” he smirks knowingly.
With a strength that catches you off guard, he pushes you away from him. Key in hand. He flaunts the tiny piece of metal before swinging his arm as if he was making a play to toss it aside. In your panic, you jump towards him, shoving him off balance with your shoulder. He breaks your fall as you two tumble down together.
The man curses in Spanish from the sudden pain and you took advantage of this by quickly searching for the key. You spot it a bit of a ways above Luis’ head and use both bound hands to reach for it once more. The chain that links your wrists together are caught by a familiar hand and suddenly pulled down until your hands were restrained between your two bodies once more. You sigh in frustration and the man beneath you clicks his tongue against his teeth.
There is an amused glimmer in his gaze as he speaks. “The stubborn-type, eh? All this trouble over a name.”
You in turn throw him an annoyed glare. “I was going to say the same about you.”
Instead of showing offense, he laughs. “Perhaps we’re more alike than you might think.”
Rather than entertain him further, you try to wrestle against his hold. Luis seemed prepared for it this time, matching your strength, only he had the advantage as he had free reign of his arms and hands. One hand kept your chained hands between your chests, the other gripped at the bicep of your arm, effectively minimizing upper body movement. Out of instinct, you rebelliously wriggle with your hips and legs with the sole focus of getting off of him. However, the man’s longer limbs kept you caged against him and the only thing you managed to do was awkwardly seat your bottom on him, knees bent by his sides.
When you grounded down in your struggle, the man tensed below you. Thinking you have finally one-up him, you repeated the action and noticed he wasn’t nearly putting up as good a fight as he did before. This allowed you to sit upright, dragging his hand with you until his arm extended slightly, and you continued your efforts to be free of him.
Luis’ breath became labored. “Stop.” he commands with gritted teeth, his voice barely above a whisper. When you didn’t listen to him, he moved his other hand from your arm to your hip, squeezing harshly in warning.
“¡Basta! Stop moving!” he growls.
You bark back defiantly, “I’ll get off when you let me get the fuckin-“
That’s when you felt it. Or rather- him. A hardness pressed beneath your nether region. Despite the layers of fabric, there was no mistaking the telling throbbing pushing up against you as if demanding your attention below.
Your throat runs dry but your brain kept sending signals to your mouth. “Ar…. Are you-“
“Sí.” the man had a pained, conflicted look about him, a picture of breathtaking self-control as he kept his body completely still. His eyes didn’t meet yours, gaze locked upon where your hips met as if to keep himself in check and not allow his body’s desires to act out untowardly.
“Surely you know how the human body works,” he tries to sound clinical, face strained in vague distress, “and will not fault me for the involuntary reactions of mine. It already doesn’t help that you’re easy on the eyes.”
You should be chastising him for getting excited when it was neither the time or place and danger was surely around the corner, but bit your lip at your own wave of pleasure upon feeling his arousal pulse. A totally different kind of heat washes over you.
What do you do now?
Neither of you spoke for a moment, a tense silence settling in until Luis breaks it with a forced cough.
“Well, this is- uh, fun.” he says without humor. “Pero, perhaps we can call it even and stop the game here. ¿Sí?”
His words went in one ear and out the other. You were frustrated beyond belief. Fueled by adrenaline and temptation. There was no one around. And you have an impossibly handsome Spanish man between your legs with a hard-on for you.
When you didn’t answer, he spoke up again. “As much as I like this position, I must regrettably ask that you- Whoa!”
As best as you could, you shoot your bound hands straight up in the air. As he still had a grip on the chain link, Luis was dragged upright into a seated position from the floor and his face stopped right in front of yours. The movement caused friction in both of your sensitive areas, mouths could do nothing to stop the groans that escaped them. His eyes open to your heated gaze, confusion and desire swirling in the grey irises.
You breathe, “You talk too much, Luis Serra.”
And it was you who closed the distance. Teeth and tongue clashed in a new battle filled with pent-up energy and lust. Your mind quickly becomes hazy as you allowed yourself to be consumed in his emanating heat and musky scent. A nip at his bottom lip earned you an enthusiastic thrust of his hips, an appreciative squeeze at your bottom rewarded him with a carnal moan from your mouth. The only time you pulled back was for air and the man before you glances between your dazed eyes and bruised lips, hypnotized by your already ruined appearance.
“Are we, uh, still playing the same game?” His question nearly disarms you. You have a feeling he was really asking if you were of sound of mind about this. Your eyes roll reflexively.
“Really going to keep running your mouth?” You then follow up with a roll of your hips, the Spaniard throws his head back with a deep, guttural groan. Dark wavy locks brush against his cheekbones, eyes shut closed. With his thick neck exposed, you steal kisses along his sensitive pulse and stubbled jaw. Another primal groan vibrates from his throat.
“Eres muy mala.” Luis grumbles without a hint of disdain. Rather, when you finally pull back to allow him to look at you, you find him wearing that familiar cocky smirk. “But I must admit, I’m kind of into it.”
A charmer through and through this man is. His next move takes you by surprise.
He shoves you off of him.
As soon as you recover from your initial shock, the dark-haired man grabs you by the chain again and drags you to the far end of the room, further away from the key and exit. Using his strength and your own momentum against you, Luis tosses you forward. Your upper body lands right on top of a wide metal table propped against the dingy concrete wall.
He takes advantage of your momentary state of confusion by forcing your arms to extend towards the wall. It wasn’t until you heard the unmistakable click of metal did you fully regain your senses and look up to see what he did. The arrogant man used one of the wall mounts to lock your chains taut in place. He literally chained your chains. You’re caught in a trap again!
Just as you were about to curse him out, you feel something hard press firmly against your bottom followed by a pair of warm hands settling at your hips and the heat you didn’t realize you were missing came back in throes. You almost wanted to point out how unfair the shift in dynamic was, but all coherent thoughts were thrown out the window when he started grinding into you.
“There,” Luis hums at your apparent silence, “much better.”
Damn him. And he had the gall to say you were bad.
His movements were slow and methodical, like he was testing the waters to see if you were actually fine with this. Your pleased sighs were the signs he needed to continue and go beyond. Next, you feel his curious hands rubbing at your sides over your shirt before he lifts it enough to slip them beneath the fabric. Feeling his skin on yours sent chills throughout your body. His touch wanders, palming at your every curve, line, and muscle and you melted into his hands, encouraging his exploration.
The temperature in the room was becoming unbearably hot. As if hearing this thought, you were pulled up by your torso as far as the chains would allow and felt your back meet his chest. Now, his hardness was at your lower back and you purposefully melded your backside against his straining cock, mentally drawing the length of him. Needless to say, without even seeing it, you were impressed by his size. The man didn’t carry himself confidently without warrant. A soft, almost adoring kiss upon the shell of your ear pulls you from your shameless thoughts.
He whispers hoarsely, “My friend, are you particularly fond of this shirt?”
“What?” you manage to choke out. “Why are you aski-”
The sound of tearing answered your question before you can finish it. Tattered fabric scatters around your feet and the air within the room suddenly felt like soft caresses on your bare torso.
“You didn’t even let me answer!” Your voice sounded more excited than annoyed.
“Lo siento. You were too slow.” Luis presses another chaste kiss to the side of your head. However, you can practically feel his wicked grin. “And frankly, are much too sexy for clothing, anyways.”
Damn, this man was making you feel things.
Despite your skin now bare against the elements, it did little to alleviate the heat building within you. It only amplified when his hands returned to your form, making a slow, sinful journey from your stomach to your upper chest. The pad of his fingers push upon the sensitive buds of your nipples, earning a wanton gasp from your lips. His hips jerk forward at the sound you made, his erection pulsing against your ass, sparking tiny, wonderful jolts of electricity within you. The sensations were making your toes curl.
One hand sneaks back down, his thumb finding it’s way under the hem of your jeans and underwear. His reach teases towards your sensitive spot and you bite your lip in anticipation, wanting so badly for him to touch you where you need him to but your mind too much of a mess to voice it into proper words.
“Mírate,” his warm breath fans against your ear in hoarse, gentle whispers. “Promixa vez… Te quiero llevar a la cama.”
You only manage to translate “Next time…” until the synapses in your brain fire all at once when his fingers began to toy your sex without warning. When his skillful hand deftly undid your jeans, you didn’t know, but at the moment, you didn’t care.
Holy hell. This guy was playing your body like a fine-tuned instrument and your voice eagerly sounded to his ministrations. Your moans and gasps music to his ears. The coil in the pit of your stomach was tightening to the point of snapping as his hand quickened the pace upon your bundle of nerves. He was stroking you graciously while also harshly grinding you into the edge of the table from behind. Your voice was reaching greater heights from the onslaught of overwhelming sensations.
“Last chance, my friend.” Luis growls, barely reigning in his instinct to simply bend you over and have his way with you. “Are we still playing the same game?”
The same question echoes. He asks one thing but really means another. This dashing, infuriating man is asking you if you want to go all the way, past the point of no return. Luis Serra is a stranger. Yet he had the sense and consideration to weigh your feelings in the matter, giving you an choice to opt out even though it would have been so easy to let it lie and let your baser instincts take over. It was almost romantic in a way. You didn’t have to think twice about this.
“Either you fuck me now,” you pant, chains clinking around your wrists, “or I’ll find my way out of these and fuck you myself.”
Luis chuckles lowly in intrigue. “¿Prometes?”
He makes quick work on the rest of your clothing, letting your pants and underwear fall at your ankles. He helps guide you completely out of them. It was probably a strange sight. You completely exposed while he was completely clothed. The only bits of him you can hear rustling is the buckle of his belt and the zipper of his pants coming undone. You were starting to shiver from anxious chills until you felt an arm wrap around you assuringly.
A patient hand gently fingers your entrance, preparing your body for something larger. You eventually move along rhythm of his fingers, goading him to take it to the next level and he acquiesces to your silent request. The heavy heat of his cock that was poking between the gap of your thighs move upwards. Your body instinctively tenses when the head of his member prods against your opening. Luis’ lips pressed against your temple in comfort and finally, finally, he slowly sinks into you. You gasp and he curses.
No amount of foreplay could have prepared you for him. Not all the way in and already you felt so full of him, his cock throbbing against every sensitive nerve inside of you. You whimper in both pain and pleasure and Luis tends to you by wrapping his arms around your middle, planting more kisses along the side of your head right behind your ear.
“Estoy aquí, ángel. Té tengo.”
Like the gentleman he portrays himself to be, he waits for you to relax around him. With great self-control, he pumps into you slowly with a tenderness that could bring tears to your eyes. The initial discomfort soon faded and was replaced by wonderful bouts of sensual ecstasy that has you gasping. Luis keeps up the pace with gusto, nearly pulling all the way out and slamming back into you. The pressure he was piling inside you with every thrust has you screaming to the point that you can feel your voice growing hoarse. Meanwhile, you can hear him moaning his praises for you in his birth tongue. This man wasn’t just talking himself a big game. He knows what he’s doing, fueling his pleasure by ensuring your own. And he was making certain that you chased yours fast.
He pulls out and you involuntarily whimper at the loss of contact. You weren’t left alone for long as he lifts you to lay on your side on the table, your hands forced to rise above your head at this new position. Luis grabs a hold of one of your legs and bends it at the knee over his shoulder, entering your heat once more. Your blood boils fiercely at this new angle, you can see him and everything he was doing to you. And he can see you’re practically rendered speechless with every powerful thrust. At this rate, you weren’t going to last. The fluttering inside your core now popping like firecrackers.
Sweat pours down his handsome face, pupils dilated black with desire for you. “¿Cómo te llamas, ángel? Tell me. And I’ll give you what you want.”
He’s asking for your name again. The catalyst behind this whole affair. “Really bent on that, aren’t you?” you manage to pant out, your lungs barely keeping up with each strong snap of his hips.
“I wasn’t at first, only wanted to tease you.” He groans, his voice finding difficulty to stay level when he’s fucking into you without abandon. “But now- ah! I really want to know. I want to call out your name. ¡Joder! Let me call out your name, mi amor.”
The way he was begging tugged at you deep. Your name was on the edge of your tongue, but your heart was gripped with fear. Fear that if you so much as uttered what he’s asking of you, the spell would be broken and you’d be left unsatisfied. This felt too damn good to risk ruin with sentimentality. So you did what you have been doing best. Prevaricate. And make him want you more.
“Uncuff me. And I’ll tell you anything. Anything you want.”
You feel the vibrations of a laugh rumble deep from his chest.
“Eres tan… ¡Mierda!”
Like a cord finally snapping, the dam breaks and everything building inside spills out with a long, final cry of ecstasy. Stars dotted your vision, for a moment you forgot to breathe as you feel yourself unraveling. Within, you feel him cumming inside as well. Liquid hot ropes painting your insides, leaving you quivering uncontrollably. His hips slow to an eventual stop, his voice coming out in soft, satisfied sighs.
Slowly letting your leg down, Luis pulls himself out and hovers over you, hands flat beside your head. The man peppers your back and shoulders with soft nips and kisses. His stubble makes slow, sensual scratches along your skin as he reaches up to the flesh of your ear, biting onto the lobe affectionately. You turn your head to meet his lips with yours, noting how wonderful his kisses feel. He pulls away slightly to study you intently, varying emotions flashing over his eyes.
“Now,” he started, “about that name.”
Back at this again. You had to admire the man for his tenacity. “Told you already,” you huff once your breath returned to you, tugging at the chains around your wrist. “Remove these cuffs and I’ll think about it.”
His voice cracks in disbelief, “That was not what you said- ¿En serio? After all of that?”
“You’re more than welcome to keep working for it.” The words left your lips before you can stop them and an amused groan escapes from Luis’ own, sending another sinful heat to flow down your core.
“Eres muy mala.” He sighs with a shake of his head. There was no hint of annoyance in his husky tone, a devilish smirk plastered on his face. “Hanging with you- not healthy.”
“Right back at ya.” The remark earned a swift smack on your ass. You almost yelp out of reflex and shifted your eyes to glare at him.
The way he looked at you, however, tells you that he wasn’t against the idea of going again. And truthfully, you were all for it. Luis leans over to capture your lips once more, sweet and filled with promise, while his hand began to wander your body mischievously. The familiar tingle of heat starts to boil inside-
The alarming sound of inhuman groans down the hall jolts you two from your intimate high. Spell broken and you fully take in your nakedness in this increasingly dire situation.
“Get these chains off, Luis!”
“¡Sí, sí! Right away!”
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godspeedviper · 1 month
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Hannibal x reader with BPD
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SFW || tw: mentions of past self harm || gender neutral ||
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• Everything began as a simple patient x therapist relationship. You were referred to him by another therapist that felt they couldn't handle you anymore & you were at your wits end.
• Hannibal made sure you felt comfortable, he's very much aware of the stigma that a BPD diagnosis still carries, especially amongst mental health professionals. Most of them don't want to deal with BPD patients. Hannibal holds no such prejudices and happily takes you in.
• He became fascinated with your intricate psyche, the way you could swing from topic to topic, from one extreme to the next, like a pendulum in a clock. Hannibal is the only one who found you predictable, he could anticipate your mood swings and adjusted his behavior accordingly. There's never a dull moment between you two.
• When he noticed your self harm scars, you were afraid that he would take it poorly, but he didn't. He remained ever composed, stoic, and looked at you with a stern expression, but his eyes remained warm and soothing.
• "If you must shed blood to stay alive, make sure it's never your own." he said in a soft voice as his thumb gently traced a scar on your left wrist. "Can you promise me that? Good."
• "I have studied monsters, true monsters, and I can say with one hundred percent certainty that you are not one. Your diagnosis does not define you, and neither do your emotions."
• Even when the relationship evolved past strictly professional, he's never truly capable of turning off his inner therapist. Hannibal is the only person that can gently keep you in check, and this helps with your recovery.
• Hannibal is the only person that understands your fears of abandonment, and he isn't afraid to (gently) chastise you when you act out, worried that he's leaving you when a case takes a particularly long time.
• "We all have our flaws, darling, but that does not make us immune from criticism. Even I must learn from my mistakes. You must learn to acknowledge when the disorder flares up, because I could never leave you. That's just your past hurt talking."
• During tender moments, Hannibal places gentle kisses on your old scars, reminding you of the promise you made to not hurt yourself anymore. Although he will indulge your more violent urges in the bedroom. "Only I can mark you now"
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milks-thoughts · 1 year
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hi it me, the best ROTTMNT writer to ever exist I know 😌
BUT I HAVE COME WITH AN ASK GRRR IM GOING TO DESTROY YOUR WRITER BLOCK
I need the turtles trying to teach their s/o something, and they stance is just a little bit off so they come up behind them to fix their posture and 😳 I'D KILL FOR THAT 😍😍😍😍
bye bye love you boo 💋 /p
PLEASE IM SO SORRY IF THIS IS OOC FOR MIKEY OR DONNIE- I DUNNO HOW TO WRITE THEM VERY WELL (blame Nick for their lack of episodes >:()
BUT YAYAYAY OKAY IMA TRYYY I HAVEN’T WRITTEN FOR THEM IN LIKE A YEAR OR TWO
this isn’t beta read! nor is it proofread- any mistakes are there now. there is no getting rid of them, they are part of the writing now. this is so short I’m sorry
tw: NONE ITS JUST HEART THROBBING FLUFF <33
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Raph
“ can you teach me how to knit? “
That’s all you have to say before Raphs enthusiastically taking you to his room
Little did you know knitting is hard
you were trying your hardest at knitting, you really were! But you couldn’t get the movements right, and the needles were so hard to move. It was honestly frustrating. Your eyebrows furrowed together as you again attempted to start a chain, you didn’t know how Raph did it. Your thoughts were disrupted by his voice ringing out “ -you’re not doin it right, here let me show you! “ he would walk over to where you were sitting and leaned over you. His plastron hitting your head slightly. It didn’t bother you, since you were distracted by his big hands grabbing yours and leading your movements, his voice didn’t process in your ears as you tried keeping your blush down. You decided it was best to focus back in so you could do it without him leading your hands, has it always been this hot in here? it was probably just you. He eventually let go of your hands “ you alright? your face is all red, are you sick? “ you could only chuckle and shake your head “ I’m alright love “ you promised before going back to knitting, so what if you were purposefully accidentally messing up? you were happy to be spending time with him.
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Leo
You were genuinely so excited when you found out he could skate
“ can you teach me!? “
Didn’t even think about how hard skating is
You didn’t take in account that even when walking you kept falling over, so on wheels? Forget it your ass is grass. a few hard falls and scrapped knees later you eventually could balance on it. Trying to get going was the hard part, you brought your foot down and completely fell off. you landed on your rear-end so at least you weren’t bleeding again “ that must’ve hurt wheel bad “ you glared up at him, but your brows lifted as you chuckled. stepping back on you felt his hands on your waist as he walked next to you. “ your posture and stance is so bad “ Leo chuckled, you gave him a playful glare. your face was red though, Leo’s hand held onto you as you put down a foot and touched the floor. Letting out a excited cheer you smiled up at Leo he smirked “ I guess I’m your lucky charm Hm? “
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Donnie
Coding was intriguing, to you at least
Watching Donnie spend hours on it while you do..your own thing was fun
“ can you teach me to code? It looks cool “
you poor unfortunate soul. Donnie was a amazing teacher, and nothing but patient at that. you just didn’t realize how hard coding actually was. “ okay! so- “ typing in the code you hummed in frustration. It didn’t work. Donnie reached over you, his hand taking on top of yours and like a puppet on a string he used your fingers to type in the code “ that will make it work. You weren’t listening dum-dum “ he gently reprimanded. You just simply leaned into his touch. you were on his bed, sitting in front of him. He simply laid down, it was the quiet hours of the night when both of you couldn’t fall asleep. you listened to all of Donnie’s rambles, tonight you wanted to use that knowledge. Typing away you noticed as he watched, even when you stilled or slowed down as your brain picked apart what you needed to do. Eventually you got it to work. It was a simple website for your art, but god was it amazing “ you finally did it, salutes “ his tone blunt and calm, but you could read the fine print, he was proud of you.
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Mikey
You loved watching Mikey spray paint
It was obvious because of the hours you’d spend watching him
“ I wonder how I’d do spray painting? “
you got the answer to your own question: you’re shit at it. Mikey was painting next to you before he paused “ you’re holding it all wrong silly! “ he walked up behind you and grabbed your hand moving the paint can he took control off your arm and made a few strokes down like you were doing. His head resting on your shoulder, music blaring into your ears from the headphones he was wearing. Mikey simply smiled at you, his orange mask stained with paint from his messy fingers working it, you’ve come to realize Mikey has many masks. And not just Dr. Delicate Touch or Dr. Feelings. But he literally has a whole drawer full of him and his brothers masks, in case anyone needs a replacement. He let go of your hand as you continued the movements getting brought back by his comforting weight leaving your shoulder “ there we go! see now you’re holding it right, you should put on some music really get in the moment “
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