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fanfic-compass · 3 days

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~Deal?~

Alastor X Reader

Summary: You're the newest Overlord and meet Alastor at a Meeting, tempting him to offer you a deal.

Word count: 1.3K

It was your first overlord meeting. Nobody knew who you were when you suddenly appeared in hell and killed a man who was coming just a little too close. Little did you know you killed an overlord on your very first day in hell but that asshole deserved it with the way he was trying to touch you and talking you into becoming a porn star.

Anyways, as soon as you killed that guy you felt a weird tingling sensation as if you could feel power running through your veins. And then you started your own little business in hell by building a casino. Who doesn’t like to gamble? And soon your casino attracted thousands of visitors every week and thanks to some of them being completely delusional with their stakes you also got many of their souls.

And then you got an invitation to a meeting of all the overlords of hell. You were excited and curious to see what they had to discuss and who they were. You stepped into a dark alley and you immediately stated questioning whether or not everything was just some prank or revenge. They alley looked so dark and shabby but then you saw another man. He was much taller than you, wore an elegant red coat and a monocle and he had red and black hair. But what you definitely saw first was the big smile on his face that showed his sharp teeth and simply looked creepy. For a moment he looked into what appeared to be a surveillance camera and then he got into an elevator. After carefully watching him you decided to follow him and see where he would go.

So you got into the elevator too and when you stepped out you found yourself in a big hallway with many other people. There were more elevators than you could see on the outside and so you couldn’t help but wonder where they all came from. But you did notice that they were all walking in the same direction and so you simply followed them into a big meeting room. There was a large table in the middle with many different people around it. When you stepped closer you were immediately greeted by a woman you’ve seen before, her name was Carmilla Carmine. You knew she was selling weapons but other than that she was a mystery to you. However she seemed rather friendly.

“Ah, our newest addition. Take a seat.” She gestured for you to sit down somewhere which you quickly did. You sat next to a woman who introduced herself as Rosie and you went along really well. She told you about the tasty side of cannibalism and invited you to come over to have a cup of tea. You agreed, although you were kinda scared that you were her next meal. When you wanted to ask her something again you heard someone clearing their throat which made you turn around in shock. And then you stared into the face of none other than the man you saw at the elevator earlier with his smile that sent shivers down your spine.

“Excuse me, my dear but you’re sitting in my seat. So would you please move?” He said, sounding awfully polite and not once dropping that smile.

You quickly wanted to move, scared of what he would be able to do if you didn’t but before you could get up, Carmilla spoke up.

“Brave words for someone we haven’t seen in seven years, Alastor.”

“Well yes, I have been absent for some time, I’m sure you’ve all been missing me, wondering where I am.”

“Not really.” Carmilla answered bluntly.

Somehow you could see that Alastor didn’t like the fact that she didn’t really care but yet his smile didn’t drop a bit which was honestly impressive and a bit scary too.

“But welcome back anyways. However you will simply have to find another seat if yours is taken.”

“Oh, I can move, no problem.” You offered, standing up but you were quickly pulled back onto your seat by Rosie.

“Don’t you worry, darling.” She said. “Alastor can find another seat.”

Shortly after that the meeting started. It was quite boring business about extermination day and you had to admit you weren’t really interested in all that. So after the meeting you quickly made your way out and went back home.

You were exhausted from your day so you quickly headed off to bed and fell asleep. In the middle of the night though you quickly got woken up again by weird noises. You got out of bed and investigated when you suddenly saw a figure standing in the corner of your bedroom, staring right at you.

“Hello?” You asked, trying to hide the fear in your voice.

The person stepped into the light and you saw that it was Alastor.

“Hello, my darling.” He said in his charming voice that carried a heavy radio static.

“What are you doing in my bedroom?”

“Well, I noticed you at the meeting today and I was absolutely intrigued by you. What a stunning young lady you are, down here in hell and immediately an overlord. Not many people got so high so quickly. Nobody except me actually.”

You knew his story, Rosie told you after the meeting. He was the radio demon who broadcasted the screams of everyone who tried to harm him.

“I know about you.” You told him.

“Very well, my dear. Then you are aware what I am capable of doing once you get in my way.” His smile grew a bit.

“I do not plan to get in your way. I am running my casino, I have my fair share of souls, I’m happy.”

“I don’t believe you are. Which is why I am here.”

“To kill me and broadcast my screams? Am I too powerful for your liking?”

Alastor laughed. “Oh no, darling. You are perfectly powerful. In fact I came to offer you a deal: We will combine our power to become the most feared pair in hell. We would be working closely together to get everyone under our command.”

It did sound tempting. “And how will I know once we did that you won’t kill me to have everything for yourself?”

Alastor chuckled. “That’s part of the deal, if one of us dies, the other one dies too.”

“That sounds too good to be so simple. So tell me, what do you want in return?” You knew that a deal would never be so easy. A deal always had a catch.

“We will work closely together, we will be partners. Not just in the conventional way like two business partners.”

Ohhhhh, you understood. But he didn’t seem like the type of man who cared about something like that. And Alastor must have noticed that because he quickly started explaining.

“You see, I was enraptured by you today. How you weren’t scared, how you didn’t care and the fact that you’re so powerful after such a short time… truly inspiring, darling. So what do you say? You will be mine and I will be yours… I’ll give you twelve hours to think about it.”

With that he was gone as quickly as he came, leaving you speechless and confused. You started thinking about it and finally made a decision. In the morning you walked o his radio station where you knocked on the door and were quickly greeted by a smiling Alastor. You didn’t need to say a word before he stormed towards you and kissed you fiercely.

The feeling of his lips on yours was a new sensation and you were startled for a moment before melting into him. He held you tightly but he didn’t force you into any position, he was a gentleman after all. After a moment he pulled away and grinned.

“I assume we have a deal?” He asked and without letting you answer he kissed you once again, sealing the deal.

#hazbin alastor #alastor #hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor x reader #overlord #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor hazbin hotel x reader #reader #fanfiction

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lostonmyroad · 2 days

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Moments That I Want Tattooed On My Forehead From S-Classes That I Raised Chapters 30-50

BEWARE OF SPOILERS!!!!!!!!!!!!!

things are starting to get going. and by get going i mean starting to get unhinged but its still nothing compared to the shit going on by the 300s

chapter 30-40

lmfao yoojin forgetting he blocked yoohyun’s number...king shit

yoojin daring yoohyun to call him out on his suspicious behavior...also king shit

chapters 40-50

let’s go sung hyunjae makes his debut!!!!

YOOHYUN ACTING INNOCENT IN FRONT OF YOOJIN AS HE MEETS THE GUILD LEADERS AKFJEIDIDOODSOOS highkey one of my favorite scenes ever. “my brother is more mild mannered than me” “yoohyun is an angel” everyone else in the room: press X to doubt

moon hyuna woman that you are. my beloved. you’re too good for this world

i live for yoohyun generally being a freak about yoojin

i need to know what blackmail he has on moon hyuna. what happened at the convenience store????? moon hyuna what did you do???

thank u yerim and moon hyuna friendship. we love to see it. Now s ranks also passes the bechdel test!!

ah yes potion addict yoojin has arrived. rip buddy at least you get better flavors later down the line

it’s only chapter 44 and yoojin is already being overworked. true cale henituse moment. rip your slacker life!!!

everyone ganging up on him to start enforcing self care. oh honey it only gets worse from here!!!

so far yoojin is: a monster tamer, social media account manager, recruiter for hayeon, owns a building with a research lab…my guy was speedy with it

yoojin going "i just need to complete one (1) more task and then I can live like a slacker" in the early chapters is. oh wow. famous last words. truly need to learn from cale

even peace is a borderline freak when it comes to yoojin. doesn’t give a shit about anyone else

YOOJIN ANSWERING SPAM CALLS JUST TO MESS WITH PEOPLE SKDJEIODO…he enjoys it…this explains so much about him…he’s bragging about how much experience he has answering them…

yoojin guessing who the kidnappers were because they didn’t call Peace cute is so valid. Anyone who doesn’t like Peace is an enemy

we’re starting to get into “oh wow fear resistance is kind of fucked territory”!!! yoojin is a little freak!!! he’s committing war crimes but sometimes it just be like that

rip blackie chapter 46-47 :(

yoojin treating the s ranks like normal people and them not knowing how to handle it ;((

GIVE YOOJIN HIS OSCAR NOW “uwu i’m a poor kidnapping victim” like sir. you dissolved your kidnappers in acid. sir.

all the details about yoojin’s life as a low ranked hunter pre-regression :(((

like not yoojin casually mentioning he used to be an alcoholic and yoohyun sent him to rehab pre regression. ok king. we don’t have time to unpack all that

kang soyoung intro!!! i so desperately need to know what her deal was with yoohyun pre regression. why does yoojin think of her as his sister in law. why did everyone believe they were dating.

next chapter brings us a real introduction to sung hyunjae character of all time

#losttalks #han yoojin #s class #s classes that i raised #sctir #the s classes that i raised #the s ranks that i raised

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cooliogirl101 · 12 hours

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WTL Deleted Scene

The bar had been closed for an hour and Mitsuo was in the process of cleaning up when he noticed the woman standing by the door. It was raining hard outside but she didn’t seem to notice or care, looking completely lost in thought.

Mitsuo hesitated for a moment before making his way towards the front.

“Can I help you?” He asked politely. The woman jolted slightly, before staring up at him with wide, startled eyes.

“No,” she said after a brief pause. “No, it’s okay. I shouldn’t have come. Sorry for disturbing you.”

She turned to walk away and before he could think better of it, Mitsuo reached out one hand to grab her shoulder. She went alarmingly stiff under his touch and he hastily let her go.

“I apologize, I didn’t mean to startle you. It’s just that, well.” He took in her drenched clothes, the lack of umbrella, the water droplets running down her face. “You look like you could use a place to warm up.”

She glanced at the very blatant ‘Closed’ sign on the door before looking back at him.

“I think we have time for one more customer,” he said, answering her unspoken question, and stepped aside to allow her in.

“So that bad, huh?” The woman, who had introduced herself as ‘Hana,’ asked casually. Mitsuo raised an eyebrow at her.

“What do you mean?” He asked, sliding a cup of tea over to her.

“The way I look.” Her lips quirked up slightly, a touch of humor entering her eyes. “I figure it has to be bad if strangers are taking pity on me and allowing me to take shelter for free after hours. Be honest, on a scale of drowned rat to drenched owl, how bad are we talking?”

He took in her shoulder length sopping-wet brown hair, brown eyes, brown coat. She did look a bit like a bedraggled animal, actually.

“Hmm, more along the lines of wet cat, to be frank,” Mitsuo said, smiling. “How’s the tea?”

She took a sip, then drew back, surprised. “This-- ”

“Not bad, right?” Mitsuo chuckled.

“Well. The standards of tea have certainly improved since the last time I’ve been in Inuzuri,” Hana remarked. “Must mean this place is doing pretty well, right?”

“You could say that.” They certainly weren’t lacking money anyway. “I think we have some food leftover in the back. Let me see if I can scrounge up something.”

“You don’t have to,” Hana protested. “Seriously, you’ve done more than enough.”

“It’s no trouble.” Mitsuo smiled briefly. “Besides, it’d hardly be polite to let a lady go hungry. Why don’t you take a look at a menu and see if anything catches your eye?”

“Absolutely not, I’m not going to—wait, who came up with the names of these drinks?” She asked incredulously.

“Ah yes, I’m afraid my brother had quite a bit of fun coming up with them.” Mitsuo grinned, suppressing a chuckle. “My sister, she was of the belief that we should be trying to attract a more diverse clientele and suggested that creating cocktails designed to cater to both men and women might be a good idea. Kazuki—my brother—thought it was ridiculous and was deeply upset at the idea of serving ‘girly’ drinks in his bar. Unfortunately for him, he was unanimously outvoted. The compromise was that he would be allowed to name the drinks.”

“And K—and they approved these?” Hana’s lips twitched as she scanned the list. “The Red-Hot Pineapple Monkey? Oh dear, the person who inspired that one must be a…character.”

Mitsuo hummed his agreement, hiding his surprise. It wasn’t often that newcomers guessed the cocktail names were inspired by actual people, and that one was a comparatively less obvious one.

“Maybe I’ll try something after all. This one sounds promising—the Flower Power Glower.” She laughed. “I’m sorry, it’s just that one…I mean, I would have loved to—” Her voice trailed off, shoulders slumping slightly. “But I guess that’s not possible anymore.”

Hana glanced up at Mitsuo, a wry twist to her mouth.

“Maybe alcohol isn’t such a good idea tonight.”

“Maybe not,” Mitsuo agreed gently. “And for what it’s worth, I understand. I’ve lost people too. If there’s anything I can do to help, I’d be glad to give it a try.”

“Thank you, that’s very kind of you.” She hesitated. “There is one thing. I just—your family.” Hana looked down at her hands, fiddling with her mug. “They sound like…like an amazing group of people. Would you tell me about them?” There was an odd urgency to her voice now, words coming out just a touch too fast. “Please?”

Mitsuo paused. By all means, he should decline her request. It wasn’t exactly a secret that two highly-ranked Shinigami came from their household and although neither Rukia nor Renji visited frequently these days, it wasn’t unfeasible that someone could come seeking information to use against them. And yet, he couldn’t help but instinctively trust that this woman meant him and his family no harm.

He hadn’t lived this long by ignoring his instincts.

“What do you want to know?” He asked.

They ended up talking for hours. Honestly, they probably could have ended up talking for longer had Kazuki not stormed in, shaking droplets of rain out of his hair.

“There you are! The bar closed hours ago, where the hell have you—who the hell is she?” Kazuki drew up short at the sight of Hana and Mitsuo sitting across from each other at the bar, halfway through their second pot of tea. Hana looked at him with the same wide-eyed look she’d greeted Mitsuo with.

“Manners, Kazuki,” Mitsuo said dryly.

“Shut up, this ain’t the goddamned Seireitei,” Kazuki retorted without taking his eyes off Hana. “So who is she?”

“She is able to hear you,” Hana said, a touch sardonically. “You can call me Hana.”

“Just Hana, huh? No last name?” Kazuki asked, eyes narrowing slightly.

“You’re hardly one to talk, given that you haven’t provided either of yours,” she retorted without missing a beat. He blinked, then grinned.

“Fair enough. You can call me Kazuki then.” His eyes fell onto the mostly-empty plate of gyoza on the table. “Aw man, I was hoping to eat those later.”

“Don’t worry, we saved the smallest one for you,” she replied, tongue-in-cheek. Mitsuo blinked. That had almost sounded like—

“I mean, thank you for the drinks and the food,” Hana said hastily, interrupting his thoughts. “How much do I owe you? And don’t tell me it’s on the house again, I mean the real cost.”

“How much do you want to pay?” At her uncomprehending look, Kazuki smirked. “We operate on a donation-only system here. You pay what you want, and if you don’t want to pay anything, that’s perfectly fine too.” He looked her over. “Actually on second thought, I second what Mitsuo said. It’s on the house—please use any money you have to buy an umbrella.”

“That doesn’t seem like a viable way to run a business,” Hana pointed out.

“Don’t worry about that. Anything that isn’t covered by donations just gets added to Hisana’s tab,” Kazuki shrugged.

There was a pause.

“Hisana’s tab?” Hana questioned. Her voice was very small.

“It’s a system we set up in honor of our late sister,” Mitsuo explained quietly. “Well, us and her fiancé at the time. Anyone who comes to this bar only needs to ask in order to be fed.”

It had been Kuchiki Byakuya’s idea. The amount of money he donated on a yearly basis could feed more hungry orphans than existed in all of Inuzuri.

“Oh.” Hana swallowed. “That’s—that’s a really nice thing to do. I’m sure your sister would have loved that.” She stood up and bowed. “I’ve taken up enough of your time. Thank you for your kindness—I can’t tell you how much it means to me.”

“You have a place to stay?” Mitsuo asked, concerned.

“Of course. You don’t have to worry about me,” she smiled. “I’ll be fine.”

Mitsuo pursed his lips, studying her closely. There was something oddly familiar about her, something that had been bothering him all evening. Not her features—no, Mitsuo was quite certain he’d never seen this woman before in his life—but in her tone of voice, the way she tilted her chin up—

He shook off the sense of déjà vu and smiled at her.

“In that case, please feel free to come back at any time. You’re always welcome,” he said sincerely. “I hope to see you again.”

Her smile softened into something a little more genuine.

“As do I,” she murmured. “Take care, Mitsuo, Kazuki.”

“So. Hana, huh?” Kazuki commented as soon as the door shut behind her. “Someone you know?”

“Not at all. I’ve never seen her before tonight,” Mitsuo replied honestly. “Why?”

He shrugged, staring off into the same direction Hana had left.

“Nothing. Just feel like I’ve met her before.”

Hisana: “You don’t have to worry about me, I’ll be fine” while very much the opposite of fine

Mitsuo and Kazuki, immediately: wait why does this girl seem so familiar

Deleted this scene because I decided Hisana wouldn't risk going back to her family until Aizen was no longer a threat, no matter how much she missed them. But I figured I'd share this snippet anyway, hope you guys enjoy!

#walk two lifetimes

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lazyveran · 20 hours

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omg i just read the Ty Lee Azula Katara situationship. Well now of course you need to elaborate on Mai. What's her relationship with Azula and Katara like? does Ty Lee have a similar thing with Zuko and Mai, as her other besties? What is wrong with Mai, bc i get the feeling you've tossed her in a salad spinner as well?

thank you so much. mai is also being whirled around in the salad spinner. miserably, might i add.

mai for me is someone is who is clinging very VERY tightly to the past, and absolutely refuses to deviate from it. ty lee, azula and zuko are her childhood friends? thats IT. thats all the friends she wants or needs. in her mind any change from that past is bad, wrong, and must be reversed back to safe, normal comfort. this is in part because she was happy and innocent and free right up until tom-tom was born - then she was the spare, seen not heard, not understood by her mother, choked into silence, captivity and an intense depressive state. tom-tom's arrival into her life is so bad that mai goes "ah yes, new people? or My People changing into something i didnt expirence before the age of 12? BAD. KILL WITH HAMMERS." and even though she does love her baby brother, she despises the circumstance he brought her. (she's far more like azula than either of them want to admit. they keep seeing glimpses of themselves in the other, like a shattered reflection of what they could have become - silent and meek, or unloved and monsterous. they never talk about it.)

the fire squad is her one and only support network, and she becomes uncomfortably co-dependant. no one else will do. no one else understands. they're comfortable, normal, the shining happy past that she wants to claw back to. she's loved by them, and understood implicity bc of their shared past. thats all she wants. so she's very, very intensely devoted to them, and especially to zuko. her and azula aren't emotional supports to each other, but they are indeed best friends. they both apprieciate each other's loyalty and stability. mai is comfortable with any change that happens around azula - or Her People - because azula is this steadfast, unmoving pillar in her life. azula values mai highly for her skill, intelligence and general disposition. they're the bitchest besties ever who murder for fun.

SO. if she literally cant handle ty lee, azula or zuko changing into something else. at all. then you can imagine her reaction to katara barrelling in and changing up the vibe of their foursome. mai is outright hostile to katara. she's irritable, grouchy, and does her utmost to pretend katara doesnt exist at all. in her mind, katara is forcing their group to change, taking azula away from their terrible little co-dependency circle. change? bad. threaten the new woman with knives. and quickly. make sure azula is apart from that new woman and back in the safe co-dependency circle. if anything changes - if azula changes - she'll turn into dust.

and on ty lee! she DOES. zuko and mai dating isnt too big a deal for her because they still pay attention to her, and the afformentioned co-dependant stability thing overrides her annoyance that they're not looking and seeing her. but if someone flirts with zuko, or mai? its over. shes throwing a tantrum, getting the person to flirt with HER instead, or flirting with zuko/mai. bc WHY is no one looking at her? helloooo???

mai and ty lee get along famously because mai hates change and people, and ty lee gets to hoard mai greedily to herself. its the perfect arrangement, she can farm all the attention she wants from mai and is guaranteed to it. and mai doesnt care about ty lee wandering off to other friendgroups because she always comes back. and it's funny, ty lee makes things not boring.

#takes a bow #the fire squad being terrible means so much to me #the inherent intense co-dependency of four traumatised kids with complicated families and one billion emotional issues #political marriage au #ty lee #mai #ask #starrdio

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kindheartedgummybears · 3 months

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you wanna know what??

I am

TIRED

of overmasculinized werewolves!!!!

I WANNA SEE A

WEREWOLF

WALKING AROUND IN A CVNTY LITTLE OUTFIT!!! WALKING THE STREETS!!!! DISEMBOWELING CREATURES!!!!

I WANNA SEE WEREWOLVES COVERED IN BLOOD AND GORE WHILE WEARING A SHORT SKIRT AND CROPTOP WITH HELLO KITTY ON IT!!!!

I WANNA SEE A WEREWOLF WALKING AROUND IN COTTAGE AND FAIRY AND PRINCESS CORE OUTFITS!!!!!! WITH A DEAD MANGLED RABBIT IN ITS MOUTH!!!!

AND MAKE THE WEREWOLF

D I S G U S T I N G ! ! !

#i am TIRED of seeing all these manly man werewolves that are all copy and paste white boys #I am TIRED of seeing all these woman werewolves being butch and masculine(also mostly white) or submissive!!!#I WANNA SEE SOME PLUS-SIZE WEREWOLVES I WANNA SEE SOME BLACK ASIAN LATINO MIDDLE EASTERN NON WHITE WEREWOLVES!!!!! THAT ARNT F3TIZIED!!!!!#I WANNA SEE A G I R L WEREWOLF THATS INTO “G I R L Y” THINGS!!!!! LET THE WEREWOLF BE A SLVT!!!!!#LET THE WEREWOLF BE IN THE TRADITIONAL CLOTHING OF ITS CULTURE!!!!#AND RIP AND TEAR AND MAUL AND CRY IN THE MORNING AFTER DOING ALL OF IT!!!! RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#no but fr can we werewolf fans like. actually sit down and reflect on the inherent misogyny of werewolves??? ESPECIALLY IN MEDIA #like. almost EVERY. SINGLE. WEREWOLF. in movies and shows and stuff are always a buff white man with anger and trust issues #and on the rare occasion that there *is* a woman werewolf shes always either over masculine or “weaker” than the “stronger alpha male” were #olf and only seen as a mate. AND shes always “calmer” and “maternal” and “calms the alpha male down🥺🥺”.AND she never has an actually good #werewolf form its always either wolf tail and ears or full wolf. or if it *is* actually a decent werewolf her transformation is offscreen.#like whyyyyyyyyyyyyy are people so scared to make women go ape shit?????? werewolves are NOT pretty creatures!!!! STOP MAKING THEM PRETTY!!#(lmao jk we know why they're so scared hashtag male gaze)#like yes. werewolves ARE pretty but not in the “dog show 30k$ poodle” kind of way i see some people making them(not that that's bad tho)#AND ALSO LIKE. ARE WE JUST GOING TO PRETEND WEREWOLVES LITERALLY WEREN'T MADE FOR WOMEN AND MINORITIES???#like. once a month someone turns into a raging bloodthirsty unstoppable beast driven by the moon and instincts with an insatiable hunger an #need to hide away from people due to them wanting to kill you or fearing you simply because you're a werewolf. they don't know you. they ju #t see you as a creature that might hurt them. constantly being hunted down to be killed simply for existing.#WHAT PART OF THAT SCREAMS: “ah yes. White man.”#IK theres going be people(men and pick mes) that see this post and think “this bitch is overreacting” and tbh idc.the girls who get it get #the girls who dont dont.#anyways shout out to Ginger Snaps trick or treat and every other piece of media or fan piece with disgusting non-f3tiszied woman/poc werewo #i love yall #*smooch smooch*#Werewolves #Werewolf #Lycanthrope #Lycanthropy #Werewolf AU #Yeah. Im tagging that too. I see yall.

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kafkaguy · 2 years

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havin a gender crisis at the train station lol #epic

#reading some lesbian comics and marvelling at the butch experience.......... and then also going into Brain Explode Mode bcos #of how similar it is to the transmasc experience #understanding why so many trans dudes are like 'oh what im just butch or a very masculine woman'#and butches are like 'oh what if im a trans guy'#THE VENN DIAGRAMS BRO. INTERSECTIONS AND CONNECTIONS AND SHARED EXPERIENCES #we are FRIENDS but also its making me feel all . What If She Pronouns. What If More Nonbinary Than I Thought...#cos the thing IS as a bisexual i do feel like my sexuality and gender identity are so intertwined its sometimes annoying #so i cannot think of it as like Ah Yes I Like Men Therefore Im a Homosexual #its a like. i like EVERYONE therefore i am EVERYTHING cos ALL my attraction feels Gay with a capital G #im gay for women im gay for men im gay for everything in between and outside #but i dont see my attraction to women as attraction to the opposite gender cos i dont see women as Opposite or necessarily separate #and vice versa i dont see my attraction to guys as . excuse the outdated language - 'same sex attraction'#because i dont necessarily see myself as A Man . yknow?#the binary is fucked identity is everchanging and ever molding and i am just a little wavelength of light floating through space #THEREFORE. idk where i was going with this #i just think that queerness and humanity are so much more complicated than any of us realise #and sometimes it is so frustrating and tiring seeing other people like me and wjth the same experiences as me #being so conservative and so assuming and trying to generalise something so personal #i am not Doing Trans Wrong . there is no wrong to be trans imo #and i also think we need to be kinder to detransitioned people + transmasc lesbians / transfem gays + nonbinary bisexuals ok thanks bye

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lord-squiggletits · 9 months

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I know gender fuckery is the name of the game with alien robots and people are allowed to headcanon and AU whatever they want, but there are some choices to genderbend certain characters that do really fucking annoy me not gonna lie

#negativity #not me seeing canon gay man characters being turned into women and or lesbians #like :)))))) yeah sure i guess that's your interpretation. it's shit tho #i guess queer and gnc men arent ~special~ enough or something #a character being gay and a man is kind of a valuable thing about specific lgbt experiences #and seeing ppl turn them into women is like. ah i see so you just completely didnt give a shit about that huh #it has to be all about you you cant possibly relate or find value in someone who isnt a mirror of you #god it's already hard enough to find good rep of queer men #esp in a fandom that's still rife with seme uke and other lowkey homophobic shipping dynamics #then ppl will take interesting canon gay men characters and be like. ah yes this is a woman #hhhhhhh because that's not potentially upsetting to anyone lol #esp when people dont even tag their shit misgendering characters #like it's funny how no one AU's arcee into being a gay man or something BC IT WOULD BE REALLY BAD TASTE #BC PEOPLE UNDERSTAND HER BEING TRANS LESBIAN IS LIKE A UNIQUE EXPRESSION THAT SHOULDNT BE ERASE #god forbid we apply that same logic to canon queer men though #being a queer man isnt a unique experience at all. there isnt anything offensive about changing them tee hee

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bisquid · 9 months

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Wait wait you can't just drop that off and not elaborate. What do you mean is there a mafia presence in Wales?? Please spill, what things did you notice??

Okay so bearing in mind that I have ADHD and Chronic Terrible Observational Skills:

I am in Cardiff

For a concert I am attending solo

Doors open at 5

4:15 ish I go 'hmm I should eat something'

Cardiff is - unsurprisingly, being tiny and yet home to FOUR concert venues - Very Busy

Find McDonald's

McDonald's is very full. I recall my last concert related McDick's experience, and promptly bounce

Directly across the street

Is an Italian restaurant

It looks closed but fuckit maybe I can beg for like. Bread or some shit

Go over

Am immediately pounced upon by the hitherto unnoticed chain-smoking woman hanging out by the door mostly hidden by a potted ficus(?)

"I was wondering if you were open and if-" "yes yes we are open what would you like?" (strongish Italian accent)

Inside restaurant is Deserted

Explain that I'm sort of in a rush, am assured it's fine

Order chicken milanese which is generally a pasta dish with a breaded chicken component

Am led to seat nearish the front and promptly provided with a pint of coke in a glass tankard

Am then provided with a front row seat to an absolutely incomprehensible series of people entering and exiting (and in one case walking directly into) the door to what I can only presume is the kitchen

Starting with the guy who had been sitting at a table chain-smoking over a pile of papers

I counted at least three people exiting at least twice without actually entering in between

Am finally brought food

It is a breaded, butterflied chicken breast approximately the size of my face and a small pile of pasta approximately the size of my fist

It is all delicious

Chain-smoking papers man reappears, now wearing a chef's apron labcoat thing

Go up to pay, chain-smoking ficus lady is now having a very loud argument in a language I did not recognise but was not Italian Welsh English French russian Gaelic or Spanish

She sees me, says, and I quote 'ah little girl lost, one moment' and promptly hangs up

I am 27 and only nominally female

I am not remotely lost

She charges me for the pint of coke but not the food

I try to point out that she hasn't charged me for the food

'do you want to pay for the food?'

'.... Not if I don't have to?'

'good'

I leave. The door is now full of half a dozen very tall very Italian men and one absolutely adorable cocker spaniel

I ask if I can pet the dog (I have my priorities straight okay)

I am allowed to pet the dog. The dog and I are now best friends

The dog lead holder asks me in extremely accented but impeccably correct English if I had enjoyed the food

'yeah it was great!'

Everyone laughs a bit

I smile and pet the dog and realise I'm now late for the concert and hurry off

I see a post on Tumblr about mob fronts and several connections are made in my brain all at once

#i have impeccable observational skills #but only in hindsight #or if it's wildlife

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angelltheninth · 6 months

Text

The Muzzle Problem

Pairing: Wriothesley x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, rough sex, muzzle, breeding, possessive sex, creampie, mentioned marking, doggie style, feral!Wriothesley

Word count: 0.7k

A/N: Expanding on that post I made the other day cause got damn I want him in a muzzle so bad!

He fucked you like he hated you, and maybe in this moment he did. Not because you did something wrong per se, not because he had a reason to hate you, his pretty girlfriend, but all because you wanted to see what would happen when you put a muzzle on him while he fucked you.

"Think you're safe from me when my mouth is caged up?" The cold bars of the muzzle pressed against your face when he attempted to nuzzle in closer to you, his frustration palpable in the loud smacking of his hips into yours. "Think again, there's many way that I can mark you as mine." Your pussy tightened around his cock, legs feeling weak and suddenly you found yourself grateful that you had the bed to fall back onto.

You reached behind you and felt the cold cage of the muzzle, "You know you can't leave marks on me. What if someone saw? They'd know... ah... about us... and..." Wriothesley tightened his hold on your hips and pressed your hips fully against the bed, clit grinding against the pillow under you while he fucked you hard, fast, possessive, almost feral. "Wrio! Careful! Your hands!"

"My hands, my cum, my cock, yes all of them, I can mark you with all of them. I don't really have to though, do I? Because at the end of the day you already know that you're mine." Behind closed doors you were his, but to everyone else you were his right hand woman, to be respected and feared as such too. In both cases though you were his and he was yours, secretly ready whenever you called for him.

Unlike you Wriothesley didn't have any problem teasing you during work hours, which lead to situations like these, getting fucked on his bed right after the shift ended, a puddle between your legs and a pulsing ache that grew every time his cock sunk back into your wet...

"My pussy, it's all mine, and you know what? I think this pussy could use some of my cum in it. It's been so good for me lately, so good for me. You've been amazing, I don't know what I'd..." He groaned as you hooked your fingers on the muzzle and pulled him forward, causing his cock to sink in balls deep into your drooling cunt.

"There, yes, fuck... fuck me there..." Again you tugged on his muzzle and felt the full weight of him on top of you, doing everything you could to keep your ass smacking loudly against his, "Fuck me however you want, just don't leave any marks where people can see." Those were some very dangerous terms you just agreed to.

You could feel yourself dripping with arousal as he began going faster, fucking you like he wanted to see you break on his cock. And maybe he did, as punishment for denying him the pleasure of biting and kissing you. "Breed you, I'm gonna breed you, get my cum in your wet little cunt. Let's see who owns your pussy then huh? When you're dripping, when your womb is flooded with my cum. Say it, say it, say it!" Your hips met his one final time before your mind went blank with pleasure, warmth spreading both inside and out, your orgasm making your stiff against his rock hard body.

Hot cum rushed into your spasming walls, your abused, sensitive pussy taking all of it before he collapsed next to you.

A few minutes passed in silence, the only sounds being each other's breath, slowly getting back to normal. You turned to your side, trying not to squirm as Wriothesley's cum dripped down your thighs. He looked happy, hair very messy and eyes a little hazy still but happy. When you reached behind him and undid the clasp of his muzzle he let out a long sigh before opening his mouth wide, flexing the soreness out of his poor jaw.

"Sorry." You snuggled up to his chest and kissed him on the chin, "But it's not my fault you can't keep your mouth to yourself."

"Yes it is. You're too cute for your own good." Wriothesley pressed a long kiss against your forehead, another content sigh leaving his lips. He was finally able to do what he wanted to do all day, kiss you as much as he wanted.

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alyakthedorklord · 10 months

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Batman the Playboy

Justice League, not quite early days but before proper identity reveals, though everyone knows Batman knows theirs, bc he has Opinions�� and Constructive Criticisms™ on their secret-keeping.

The issue is brought up on random occasions. The most notable incident- the Justice League, including Batman, being Drunk for Bonding, and Batman, in a fit of paranoid good intentions because he CARES about these idiots, damnit, why must they be so careless, starts insulting them.

Batman, leaning heavily on the table: “GL, you’re a mess, I don’t even know where to start with you. And Arrow! Your goatee is so distinctive, it’s a wonder no one has called you out on it-“

Green Arrow, also drunk: “Alright, there’s no need to insult my awesome facial hair-”

Batman, in despair: “It’s so ugly.”

Green Arrow: (offended noises)

Green Lantern: “Okay, the only reason you know our secret identities is because you’re a rude nosy bastard who needs to know everything about us like a creepy stalker who needs an ego boost! We’re not stupid, Spooky, we’re just polite. We could figure you out easily if we wanted to. Superman can see right through your mask!”

Usually, Batman would have a good response to that. Something smart and reasonable like “villains won’t care for your privacy, I’m testing you,” or something cutting like “I don’t care enough about you to go digging, I set your secret identity as a training exercise for Robin.”

However, Batman is Drunk, because for some reason imbibing drugs that dampen higher brain function is socially acceptable and often, for some reason, expected, because it’s “team bonding” and “come on just loosen up a bit.” (Also for him, drunk=Brucie)

So what Batman ends up saying is: “I could kiss you full on the lips in my secret identity and you wouldn’t know a thing.”

Superman, plucking the glass from Batman’s hand: “Aaaand that is enough alcohol for you!”

Batman nods. Thank God. He wants to go home and sleep. But first: “Superman, yours is so stupid it’s almost impressive-”

———

Of course, Green Lantern has smelled a challenge. And Green Lantern must annoy Batman. It’s his true superpower. So, the next time they meet (sober) he brings up the issue again.

GL: “So about what you said at the party… the part where you could kiss us full on the lips without us knowing. You still confident in that without liquid courage, Spooky? Bet you your real name you can’t do it.”

Batman, regretting the fact that alcohol has ever passed his lips: “I could do it, but I will not.”

Flash, curious: “Why’s that?”

Batman: “Informed Consent. I will not risk making any of you feel violated, or manipulated, for the sake of a stupid bet and my ego.”

GA, still offended by the goatee comment, trying to back Batman into a corner: “So if we give consent, we’re fair game? Try me, Batman. Even you can’t pull this off. Anyone else game?”

Some of the Justice League laughs, raising their hands.

Flash: “Come get me, hot stuff! I’ll call you out!”

Wonder Woman: “It could be amusing.”

Martian Manhunter: “I would be far too difficult a target.”

Green Arrow: “Not just you. C’mon, Spooky, flirting well enough to get a kiss from me? I’m a classy lady.”

Black Canary: “D-class, maybe.”

Superman, wants a kiss in on the fun: 🙋🏻‍♂️

“So that’s it then!” Green Lantern says smugly. “Batman, if you can kiss… how many people raised their hands? Ah yes- HALF THE JUSTICE LEAGUE, without anyone realizing it’s you, then you win.”

Batman scoffs and walks out, leaving the Justice League in stitches at their joke. Because- Batman? Being good enough at flirting to land a kiss on half the league, without it being forced or awkward, without them recognizing his body language, his voice, his build? How ridiculous!

The Batman is Autistic. The Batman does not understand jokes, especially not ones that are half truths. The Batman has consent, and something to prove.

And Bruce Wayne, billionaire, playboy, and sexy DILF, has targets.

(Please tell me how you think he gets each League member.)

Edit: there have been a bunch of awesome additions in the notes! My own take here.

#a few months later GL brings it up #like ‘ha ha remember funny joke’#batman: ‘…joke?’#justice league #😳#yes joke #autistic batman #batman #brucie wayne #justice leauge shennanigans #batman the playboy

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uglyducklingofthe2000s · 25 days

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So Daddy - LN

Request from @rbmv33 - I saw that someone gave lando a daddy bracelet. I was wondering if you could do where the reader see the bracelet and jokes around with him and calls him daddy but he doesn’t realize it’s a joke 🩷🩷

I'm sorry, I think you wanted smut. For some reason I just have no inspiration/motivation for smut rn. Idk, Idk when it'll come back to me. I'm really sorry.

Themes: Suggestions of a daddy kink

No part 2 request please

With Lando being so much busier than usual since there's so many more fan events in Melbourne compared to the average race weekend. Y/n has been just enjoying herself wondering around getting to move around the paddock and track on her own.

But when she does finally catch him with him, he's very much latched onto her though he's caught in conversation with some other people while hugging her back against him.

She's actually just fidgeting with his hand and tidying his bracelets a little when she notices one and while there's a chance he noticed what it said, he also puts bracelets on blindly.

"Sorry, baby. I gotta go." Lando states after the conversation apparently ends.

"It's alright, daddy." Y/n shrugs meaning to sound more teasing but she figures he'll figure it out.

"I-Ok." Lando nods frowning slightly but just sort of accepting it before he kisses her then takes off since he does actually really need to go.

It's not till later that Lando sees her again and this time she's lying on a sofa in the McLaren unit that, he sits down managing to pull her so she's lying with her head on his lap.

"Hey, beautiful." Lando smiles still having thoughts about the earlier name.

"Hi, daddy." Y/n mumbles still focused on something on her phone with her brows furrowed, again it was meant to come out more teasing but her mum is texting her in a conversation about plans for Silverstone despite it being ages away. "Ah, why is she like this? I swear, the woman is 11 hours behind us, it's like the middle of the night there and she's on the phone hassling me."

Lando smiles pinching her phone from her hands and tossing it off to the side.

"Problem fixed." Lando smiles making her look at him and smile a little before she grins at him. "You coming to the garage with me?"

"Uhhh...yeah, I just need to run to the bathroom. I'll be right back, daddy."

As soon as she's gone Lando leans back, trying to contain himself. Is it seriously turning him on? She's being so casual about it, is she testing the waters with something?

"Alright, ready to go?" Y/n smiles brightly reappearing making him uncover his hands from his face. "Are you ok you look a little...flush?"

"I'm good. Let's go." Lando nods standing up and taking her hand.

"Ok daddy."

Finally got the tone right to tease him. But Lando still doesn't react like she expects. Which she knows can only mean one thing...he's not mad about it nor does he want her to stop.

Lando looks almost stressed by the time they get to the garage and she can't lie that it's pretty amusing to see him so stressed out about it.

"We are leaving as soon as I've debriefed. So be ready to leave." Lando states as she moves to stand in the team guest spectator area in the garage.

"Yes, daddy."

Max's head whips around at that but he can't get a word out before Lando has disappeared from next to them.

"Did you just call him daddy?" Max questions not even thinking to leave the whole thing alone.

"He has a bracelet from a fan that says daddy, and I noticed started calling him it but he's not said anything yet." Y/n smiles crossing her arms while Max makes a noise of disgust.

"He's probably enjoying it."

"Well..." Y/n shrugs not actually caring about Max knowing far too much. She knows he's got secrets with Lando so there's no point in trying to cover for him.

"I'm traumatised." Max shudders while she just smiles and pats his shoulder.

"Just think of the stuff I'm not telling you about."

"Y/n, please." Max groans while she just grins, living for any way to torment her boyfriend's best friend. "I don't need to know."

"But I trust you enough to tell you anyway." Y/n grins then patting his shoulder. "You should be happy I like you so much, a lot of girlfriends and best friend have beef."

"I wish we had beef if I meant I didn't have to hear this."

"Max, that's so mean." Y/n pouts before grinning at him. "But I forgive you."

"Hey, daddy." Y/n greets as soon as she sees Lando, leaning back on the sofa and smiling as his hand comes to her throat, gently squeezing it as he leans down to kiss her.

"Hey, baby." Lando smiles rubbing his thumb on her pulse. "We're going out for dinner."

"We are?" Y/n hums earning a short nod. Honestly the way he's looking at her is beginning to make her feel hot.

"Yeah, we'll go back to the hotel. You can get dressed in something nice and I'm taking you out for dinner." Lando states making her look at him for a moment. "Come on, baby."

Y/n seems to wait a couple beats before she stands up and moves with him.

It's not till they're sitting across from each other that y/n decides to comment on Lando's reaction to her calling him daddy.

"So you like the whole daddy thing?" She asks not feeling bad for asking.

"Maybe I do. But you started it...so you mustn't hate it."

She doesn't in fact, it's something she really thought she'd hate but with Lando it feels annoyingly good.

"I don't hate calling you daddy...but it was that because of that bracelet."

He's just so happened to take off his bracelets before they came out for dinner when he got changed into a suit and shirt. Fuck.

"Bracelet?" Lando frowns in confusion. "What bracelet?"

"I knew you didn't notice. The bracelet from your fans. One of them said daddy...but for the record you are definitely giving me sugar daddy vibes right now." Y/n admits almost feeling shy when she says it.

It's as if she just unlocked a different side to her boyfriend and she didn't realise this side existed till now. But it might just be her new favourite.

Lando smirks a little as y/n bites her lip a little as their peace is disturbed by the arrival of the food.

"So...daddy...how often should I be calling you that?" Y/n asks as she pokes her fork into her pasta.

"As often as possible would be preferable." Lando shrugs making her clear her throat a little and shift. "Are you ok?"

"Yeah...I'm just thinking." Y/n mumbles making him raise his eyebrows in question. "I may have traumatised Max earlier with this..."

Lando seems to almost choke on the bite of food in his mouth.

"You traumatised him?" Lando laughs making her sigh.

"I didn't think you might genuinely turned on by being called daddy, but I was joking about it with him earlier when he heard me say it in the garage and he definitely didn't want to know." Y/n smiles making Lando grin. "He'll just have to get over it."

"I'm sure he appreciates that."

"Not my fault your fans has forced me to acknowledge you're daddy material." Y/n states then pausing while Lando gets a mouthful of food. "You'll have to make sure you wear that bracelet again so they all know."

Taglist: @namgification @hiireadstuff @jsjcue @geniusalpaca @itsjustkhaos @llando4norris @partyinpitlane @lpab @xoscar03 @harrysdimple05 @mellowarcadefun @cixrosie @scopeiguess

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rory-cakes · 2 months

Text

Alastor's Birdy

Alastor wasn’t a good man.

In fact, he was no longer a man at all.

He was the Radio Demon, an overlord of hell, owner of souls, and host of the Hazbin Hotel.

The only evidence that he was ever human was the gold band worn around his ring finger. No one seemed to notice it; if they did, they didn’t dare ask.

Not much was known about the terrifying radio demon. The others at the hotel often wondered about the origins of the great Alastor Altruist.

Well, not until Mimzy comes along.

“Alastooor, Sweetie, doll-face! So good to see you. How’ve ya been? Good? Good.”

Alastor hugs the small woman while everyone stares in confusion.

“Listen, I was in the neighborhood! I heard you were staying at this ritzy ditzy slob factory-”

A glint of gold catches the light.

“Oh! By the way, where’s your little birdy?”

Alastor’s who? The confusion only continued to grow in the room.

“Oh, Mimzy, you know she would never have ended up down here.”

Who are they talking about?

“Ah yes, she was such a kind soul. The best of the best.”

Finally, someone asks.

“Yo! Lady! Who ya talkin' about?”

“His missus, of course!”

His what?

“YOU WERE MARRIED?!”

Alastor’s eye twitched as private information about his life came to light.

“I am married; we never divorced.”

Everyone stared in disbelief. How could anyone marry Alastor, of all people?

Wait-

“You said she would never have ended up down here. Does that mean that your wife is in heaven? Is she an angel?”

“Charlie, don’t be ridiculous! No one that good could have married him!”

Mimzy pipes up,

“She’s right. Y/n Altruist was too good for the world and sang like a canary!”

That she did…

“I fell in love with you the first time I looked into

Them there eyes

You've got a certain little cute way of flirtin' with

Them there eyes”

All eyes gazed upon the stage. His little birdy was much like him in how they entranced others with their voices. If all he heard for the rest of eternity was that beautiful song of hers, then he could die a happy man.

“They make me feel happy

They make me blue

No stallin', I'm fallin'

Going in a great big way for sweet little you”

It was never supposed to last. It was just for a while to make him seem more normal. To hide his less than socially acceptable hobbies. But she was light, and he was a moth to a flame. As he felt the weight of the box in his hand he wondered how someone like him got blessed with someone like her.

“My heart is jumpin', you sure started something with

Them there eyes

You'd better watch them if you're wise

They sparkle, they bubble

They're gonna get you in a whole lot of trouble

You're overworkin' them, there's danger lurkin' in

Them there eyes”

Her eyes brightened as they landed on him sitting at his usual table in the back. He was done with work early and had come to pick her up so they could walk home together.

“I fell in love with you the first time I looked into

Them there eyes

You've got a certain little cute way of flirtin' with

Them there eyes”

HIS. She was his. He was hers. They were each others.

The only proof that Alastor was ever human was the gold band around his ring finger.

A/N: Here's the fic lol @mag-chan

part 2

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spicyhamsamson · 1 year

Text

I am. So fucking tired of Batman being portrayed as a bad parent and a toxic person. And it’s so goddamn widespread. Fuck, it might be as bad as the whole “Superman being a kindhearted Boy Scout is boring” take.

I get it, the man’s not exactly stable, he watched his parents get murdered in front of him and spent years of his life training to fight crime dressed like a giant scary bat, of course he’s not perfect.

But to say that Bruce Wayne isn’t caring, isn’t empathetic, to call him abusive…it just misses the point of who the character is to me.

Why do you think he fights crime? Yes, part of it is because he’s bitter and sad because his parents were cruelly ripped from him as a child, and he’s lashing out against the corruption of his city. It’s arguably the focus of his earlier years. But he learns to become more than that. He learns to bring hope, a chance to be better.

Harleen Quinzel is the Joker’s right hand lady, but she’s also a victim of an abusive relationship and a woman with a surprisingly strong moral compass and a love for animals, and wants to get better. That’s why we see time and time again that he has a noticeable soft spot for her, because he knows that she’s a good person at her core.

Harvey Dent is a man who will decide someone’s fate on a coin toss(and a pretty inaccurate depiction of DID), but he’s also Bruce’s close friend who clearly needs help learning to live with his condition, rather than try to get rid of it, and someone who he still goes out of his way to visit, even after everything, because he recognizes he’s not just a criminal with a weird gimmick, he’s a man who is struggling with a condition that he’s mishandled his whole life.

Victor Fries is a cold, emotionless man who will callously discard allies and blame them for being careless, but he’s also a man who’s either lashing out because he had the love of his life taken from him, or just desperate to make sure she isn’t taken from him, and is willing to do anything just to guarantee her survival. Of course Batman would understand, his whole life was defined by having people he loved taken away from him.

Even the Joker, arguably one of the most morally bankrupt characters in all of fiction, is someone that Batman has offered a chance to. After the guy shoots the daughter of his friend, a girl he cared for like she was his own kid, and paralyzes her from the waist down, he tells the Joker that he doesn’t want to hurt him. He wants to get him help. He looks at this monster who has taken countless lives and says “You don’t have to be alone.”

For fuck’s sake, he sat with Joe Chill in his last moments so that he wouldn’t be alone. Joe Chill, the man who murdered his parents, who took so much from him, the person responsible for all of the misery and suffering he’s gone through. And he sits with the man to comfort him while dies. Do you know how much emotional intelligence and maturity that must take? To comfort someone who arguably ruined your life?

And you’re gonna tell me the man who did that would abuse his kids?

That he’d hold up the young man whose death was his greatest failure, the boy he grieved, and say this?

That he’d look his goddamn son in the eyes and say this to him?

Why the FUCK do you think he took in Dick Grayson in the first place? It wasn’t because he saw the kid and thought “Ah. A potential soldier.”, it was because he saw a boy experiencing the same heartbreaking loss he had so many years ago, and wanted to make sure he didn’t end up as bitter and miserable as he was.

Why do you think he smiled when Tim Drake presented him a broken watch for Father’s Day? Because he was just happy to see the boy alive and safe.

DAMIAN LITERALLY POINTED AT A COW AND SAID “I’m keeping her. She’s Bat-Cow.” AND BRUCE JUST WENT WITH IT. DIDN’T EVEN NEED TO ARGUE WHY BRUCE SHOULD LET HIM KEEP HER. HE SAID “this cow is my pet now” AND BRUCE SAID “aight, bet”.

The thing about Batman is that he wants to make sure nobody else ends up feeling the way he does. That’s not just about stopping a mugger so a boy’s parents aren’t gunned down. It’s about giving his loved ones the support and care that he couldn’t have, because it was taken from him. It’s about comforting someone who just went through a traumatic experience and letting them know that they’re going to be okay. It’s about going to someone locked away in a cell who thinks that they’re a lost cause and a burden to society and telling them that he wants to help them get better. It’s about EMPATHY and COMPASSION.

That’s what makes him a HERO. He’s meant to inspire us, to show us that we can have that same empathy for others around us, that we can turn our suffering into hope for a better future.

I just wish more people at DC would start recognizing that. But I might as well follow that example myself. Maybe through this struggle of having to see this hero mistreat the people around him and act like a grade-A jackass, people will start to recognize that missing compassion, and slowly but surely, it might come back. After all, what is this post, if not trying to bring attention to the matter in the hopes of fixing it?

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inupibaldspot · 2 months

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Call me by my name

Pairing: Okkotsu Yuta x Reader

Note ₊˚⊹♡ : college au! Where nerd! Yuta goes out on his first party and manages to snag you, a popular girl who just needed someone to have ‘fun’ with.

The room is hot; surrounded by your friends continues to talk and laugh about how Yuuji, who was the star player on the football team slipped in the college cafeteria. But you weren’t interested in such talks— not right now, when you had an aching pain in between your legs.

Normally in such situations all you had to do was flutter your eye lashes at Choso, your ‘study partner’ who loooved doing all your assignments and at the same time, who had been trained to memorize every inch of your body inside and out but alas! He had to go on a study trip.

Your eyes wander amongst the crowd of people as you take a sip from your plastic cup, paying no heed to the burning sensation passing through your throat from the heavy drink— bingo! You spot your target.

A boy with dark haunting eyes who seemed to tilt from side to side, laughing nervously as he has both of his hands on a cup talking with two familiar figures— Maki, an all rounder athlete and cousins to one of your friends, Fushiguro Megumi and Inumaki Toge, a guy you shared a class with.

As soon as you see the two people leave the poor boy whose eyes was dropped to the floor instantly, probably nervous to make eye contact, you make your move.

“Hey there.”

Yuta raises his head to see you in-front of him, his breath hitched almost instantly as he takes on your appearance. You had a beautiful face with eyelashes which flutter in a flirting manner; but one thing he was trying to avoid looking at was the curve of your ass as the way you leaned down makes the swell of your breast very much visible.

He gulps. “Hey…”

“I’m y/n.” Yuta catches a whiff of your perfume laced with alcohol which makes him intoxicated, his pants suddenly becoming so tight.

He clears his throat. “I’m Okkotsu Yuta… Nice to meet you.”

“Say Okkotsu…” you lean in as you place a hand on his chest, leaning into his ears. “It’s kind of hot in here so how about we go somewhere else.”

As soon as he gives you a green light, you smile. Guys like him who was probably a virgin, who only saw naked woman through a screen were just so easy. You hold onto one of his wrist as you drag him to a washroom in the secluded part of the house.

You didn’t mind teaching Okkotsu the ways to touch and pleasure you; it was more fun that way in your opinion.

So tell me when the situation had turned and now it was you who was a moaning mess while Yuta had you in the palm of his hands.

“Nghhh— Ah…ugnn…” You let out another moan as your legs start to shake. Yuta grips on to one of your legs and brings the other one over his shoulders; you whine as your ability to grind on his face has been completely taken away from you.

“Your whimpers are so so— adorable.” Yuta’s voice almost comes of as a whine as he places small kisses all over your heat before his head completely dives in, his face was filthy from all your juice over his face.

You manage to look down, over the swell of your breast where your nipples remain hard, wet and swollen from the previous sucking and tugs which had almost made you pass out; As you see him slurp, making such nasty, filthy sounds with each action. As if sensing your gaze, he looks up at you almost innocently.

“I want to fill you up with my cum. I want to come inside this pussy— please? Please say ‘yes’.” He whines, looking so needy.

Just where did he learn to do all of ‘these’?

He beams when you reach out your hand as you cup his face. “Ngh…O-of course you can, Okkotsu.” He buries his face in completely once more.

His tongue was deep in you “You can call me by my first name.” Your heavy breathing makes his blood go straight to his his cock making it drip with need.

From a moaning mess,you completely stiffen as you open your mouth. Then proceeded to close it.

“Oh…” His eyes darken as an felt the grip on your thighs tighten. “You forgot my name…”

“Part your legs a little more, sweetheart.” You whimper at his words.“By the time I’m done you’ll have my name running through your mind with every ache.”

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kneelingshadowsalome · 5 months

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Christian Woman

(König x Nun!Reader)

Word count: 5.2 k Summary: Yup it’s König with a Virgin!Nun!Reader folks. This is all @wordstome 's and @melancholic-thing 's and their König & religion post's fault! :( Tags/warnings: PINING. Eventual smut, eventual blood & minor injuries. A cute, sweet, silly story with undertones of religious despair. Watch out for possible mistakes concerning Catholicism, I was more interested in the forbidden love trope.

Part 1

You don’t know how it even happened, but you became friends with a foreign man visiting your city.

You bumped into him one day. Literally bumped into him, or then he bumped into you; you’re not entirely sure who’s to blame here, but you would’ve fallen to the ground had he not grabbed you by the arm and hauled you back up and against him.

It was just to prevent you from hurting yourself, but your mind short circuits for a moment when you’re pressed against the broadest chest you’ve ever seen. The man is tall, so tall you have to crane your neck to see who has such lightning-fast reflexes.

Worried eyes look down at you from above, but the man’s expression softens when he sees how frightened you look.

“I’m so sorry. Are you ok?”

“Yes… Yes, I’m fine, thank you.”

He starts to fuss about being in such a hurry without any particular reason and asks if he can make this up for you somehow.

Could he offer you a lunch or something? No, how about a drink? He’s truly so sorry.

His accent is charming, and the genuine regret and worry make you quickly judge him as a safe enough person to grab a coffee with. Accidents happen, and it’s not illegal to sit down with a man you just met, right?

You tell him you don’t drink drinks, but a coffee would be nice. The man raises an eyebrow when you reveal to him that you’re not only a teetotaler, you’re also a nun.

“Ah… So you prefer a simple life?”

He takes you to a dark, cosy cafe around the corner. His inquiry leads to a conversation on the joys of silence and simplicity, then on philosophy, faith, and the cons of modern life. By the time he grabs you a table for two, you’re already discussing how people are always on their smartphones nowadays, looking for instant gratification and pleasures and how it wrecks their brains. You both gush about how nice it is to steer away from all that.

You find yourself talking to him with ease about your life choices. How the anxiety reached a point where you wanted to get away from all the fuss, and how much peace this solution has brought you. How you have meaning and purpose these days, and how you doubt you’d be able to adjust into a modern society anymore. He gets what you mean immediately, saying he only feels at home when he’s alone in the mountains. How he’s been alone his whole life, really, and that it doesn’t scare him anymore, on the contrary.

You feel warm and safe with him, lost inside a soft bubble you quickly create in the corner table of a cellar cafe. Perhaps it’s the dimly lit environment or perhaps it’s just him, but you have one of the deepest conversations ever with this mysterious man.

He’s attentive and curious without being your usual pervert on the sly. You’ve had enough of men looking at you like you’re the forbidden fruit after hearing about your life choices.

This man doesn’t try to seduce his way into your pants; he listens to your insights and agrees with you on how silence does you good, especially in times like this. You wonder what he does for work and why he’s here because clearly, he’s not local. You never get to ask him because the conversation ends far too quickly.

He receives a message on his phone, cruelly reminding you that the magical bubble has burst and you’re back in the modern world. He looks crabby about the interruption too, especially when he says he has to go.

You both agree that you had a nice talk and should continue it sometime – why not tomorrow? Same time, same place.

So you meet him again.

And again… And again.

You find out he’s in town for at least two weeks, but when he finally reveals what he does for work, your stomach sinks. He tells you he’s working for some private military contractor and can’t really share any details about his work. When you ask him does this mean that he kills people for money, he falls silent.

“I guess you could put it like that.”

He’s looking at his shoes when he says it, somewhat embarrassed or sad. His feet barely fit under the table, so he has them stretched out, leading to a waitress almost tripping on them one day. Your heart is squeezing inside your chest when he rises immediately and apologises like the perfect gentleman, helps the lady up and never gets insulted by the murderous glares the woman shoots at him.

He gives you his codename, König, and that he comes from Austria, but then refuses to share any other personal details. You don’t even get to know his first name. You do talk about your childhood, you talk about your schools and what you were supposed to become when you grew up. He tells you about his love for hiking, and you tell him about your dance hobby.

The usual “Oh? Nuns are allowed to dance?” comment has you laughing.

“Well… I don’t do twerking, but yes, nuns are allowed to dance.”

“What’s ‘twerking’?”

It’s so funny how you seem to know about modern trends more than him. You know about Tinder and TikTok through your friends; it’s just that these things are really not for you. Still, this König knows even less about dating apps and internet challenges than you.

It makes you intrigued: he could have dozens of women right now if he wanted to. And not only because he’s attentive and kind: he’s so big and tall that most women would beg him to whisk them away. All he needed to do was go to a hookup site and deal out some likes.

Most of his muscles are packed in the shoulders and chest area, making it challenging for him to fit through a door. You can see he hasn’t skipped a leg day either, and immediately chastise yourself for checking out his butt in the coffee queue. You ignore your filthy thoughts of wanting to get pressed against those pecs again, you pay no attention to the fleeting musings on how good that short stubble would feel against your neck if he ever chose to kiss you there.

A soldier and a nun make an odd pair, but you find yourself enjoying his company more than anyone elses. He seems to wait for your meetings with eager but polite enthusiasm, too. You know it’s an attempt to make you forgive his choice of career when he reveals to you that his best mission was when he saved thirty women from sex trafficking. And it does make your heart crack open a little. Killing is a sin, but he has tried to protect life in his own crude way.

You start to include him in your prayers. First, you ask for the Lord to guide this man away from the path of killing. Then, slowly, you ask him to be protected from harm, you only pray for him to be safe.

And you say nothing of this new acquaintance to the others. You ought to, but your lips remain sealed.

You’re allowed to have friends and visit them, and it doesn’t matter if the friend is of the opposite sex as long as the meetings are purely platonic. Which they are. This man could be your brother, you tell yourself. He could be a long-distance cousin. There’s nothing fishy going on around here, and he’s just visiting, so why would you bother to tell anyone? It would only lead to troubled sighs and concerned questions, and you really don’t feel like answering them right now.

You miss a few midday prayers, and once, your chores. The relationship turns out to be far from platonic.

König can’t even keep his eyes in check.

They travel down your neck and land on the smallest amount of cleavage, barely visible in the loose, dull shirts you wear. They slip further down and stop to admire your breasts next, then quickly rise back to your collarbones as if this was just a mistake, just an absent, wandering gaze. You know you’re wearing a semi-helpless stare by the time he meets your eyes. The blue steel in his is completely swallowed by hunger.

You want to believe it was only a momentary lapse, but then he does it again. Actually, you catch him looking at your breasts, scanning your body and cherishing the tender spot between your collarbones more times than you can count. They’re quick, stolen moments, so harmless that you choose to stay quiet. He usually starts to talk about something trivial right after, or asks you a quick question as if nothing ever happened.

Those stolen glimpses stay with you for the rest of the day though. They give you intrusive thoughts during morning prayers and evening silence. You’ve never felt this… adored.

He has a quiet, commanding presence, and you feel like a mouse under his gaze, a mouse who’s always thoroughly examined. At the same time, he’s so polite and so charming that you can’t think ill of him. He always takes your coat and brings you coffee, always asks how your day or week has been, and actually listens to you speak. He listens to your every word with a softening glow in his eyes, a shimmer that spreads across the table and makes you feel warm all over.

König always softens in your presence... You always tense up in his.

Your face is flushed, and you blame it on the overcrowded cafe. You feel both safe and in danger with him, and it must be the virgin inside you talking. But you sense there’s something more at play here. He’s simply not like other men.

You fear he’s seen hell; in fact, he must walk there every day. From what he tells you, you understand that he has suffered a lot and could use your prayers. But it’s also quite clear that he’s not a victim anymore.

It’s difficult to see this utterly charming teddy bear in front of you, enjoying his large cup of coffee and giving you the occasional husky laugh, then imagine the same man bursting through a door and starting a massacre. Marching in some dark, dirty recess with a rifle or a shotgun in his hands, hunting down screaming people and putting down his already bleeding enemies.

Because that’s what you imagine in your mind when he tells you he’s sometimes used as an insertion specialist; a human battering ram in short.

You look at his hands around the mug, long fingers curled in search of warmth. He has short, trimmed nails and no sign of blood under them… But that doesn’t mean it’s not there.

…

"Oh honey. Soldiers are the worst," your friend sighs when you meet her at another cafe, different from where you meet your killing machine. It’s bubbly and lively and colourful, just like your friend; it’s the opposite of König, the special operations soldier who’s dark, intriguing, and intimate, just like the dimly lit cellar cafe you meet him in secret.

"He probably owns a Fleshlight," she mumbles with her mouth full of croissant.

"A… A what?"

She starts to cough at your innocent inquiry, and you know you didn’t hear ‘flashlight’ in the first place, it’s just that you’re not sure if you want to know what on earth she’s talking about now.

When she finally survives the munch she almost choked on, she politely tells you what a fleshlight is, and you find yourself not rolling your eyes, but actually thinking about König using one with need.

Christ have mercy…

"Soldiers are crazy. I once dated this peacekeeper,” your friend continues in her usual chirpy way. “Couldn't hold a conversation for his life. Unless it was about guns... And when I went over to his place, the walls were covered with pictures of naked women. It was so pathetic I had to keep myself from laughing. And oh god, now I remember! He offered me microwaved mac and cheese for dinner…"

You sip your coffee and listen politely to your friend ramble about some guy she used to date. She has a lot of these stories, and all of them are worth hearing. Sometimes you think if you’re living your unlived sex life through your friend, the way you’re so curious about hearing all the different descriptions of male genitalia and the crazy, funny, downright unbelievable scenarios that have happened to her.

Some of the tales are so gross you’re quite happy you haven’t indulged yourself in casual sex. And at times, hearing about all the things your friend has gone through, being an onlooker to all that heartbreak and pining and loss, has managed to strengthe your resolve.

Being a nun isn’t so bad... At least you haven’t wasted your time on shallow men.

"He put so much chili in that shit that my makeup started to run," she continues her story about the poor excuse for a dinner and a date. Usually, the food leads to sex in these tales, and you’re a hypocrite for wanting to hear more.

"Did you sleep with him…?"

"After that? No thanks," she looks at you and raises an eyebrow. "I pretty much fled the building."

Even the most sad, pathetic, crappy tales make you both laugh, especially if enough time has passed. You laugh now, too, both at your friend falling for a man simply because he was a hot soldier and at the poor man who was in obvious need of an interior designer and a cook. Or a girlfriend… Or a mom.

"Look. I'm saying this because you're my friend." She says after wiping a few tears from her eyes, "And because you’re a virgin and a goddamn nun. Like come on, how many years have you been locked up in that dreadful monastery?"

"Convent," you correct.

"Whatever. I'm telling you this man is just looking for some easy pussy while he's deployed."

“I wouldn't call a nun an easy…ugh, you know.”

“Perhaps he likes a challenge then, “ she shrugs. “Men like to hunt.”

"It’s not like that,” you quarrel, trying to ignore the way her lips purse with amusement. “He's been very nice to me and… we have these great conversations. We talk about really deep stuff, you know? He explained the difference between Schopenhauer and Kierkegaard to me last time we met–"

"Ok, that's even worse. That's a red flag."

You look down at your beverage, sullen and beaten. She’s the first person you’ve told about meeting a man over a coffee, and you’re already doing it wrong.

"Does he ever look at your tits?" She asks all of a sudden.

"What?"

Your friend crosses her arms over her chest and tilts her head, looking like an overly self-satisfied detective.

"Do you ever catch him staring at your breasts," she rephrases the question as if she’s talking to a lame person.

"Well… Uh. Yes, sometimes–"

"Well there you have it. Man's just bored with his fleshlight."

"Shh! Keep it down, would you…? Good God..."

"Don't take the name of the lord your god in vain," she chimes. “But seriously, it’s no wonder. If only we could get you out of that convent, there would be a line of men at your door.”

“Oh for God’s sake…”

“No, seriously. We’re talking about fistfights and broken bones. Dating apps would explode. People would get killed.”

You roll your eyes - your friend always loves to exaggerate things. If anything, you’re scared of men, and you loathe the dating world. You’re put off by shallow commitments and one-night stands and getting ghosted and God knows what else. That’s why you became a nun: to find something stable in your life. You always told your friend that Jesus Christ is the most stable man you’ve ever met, and you will stick with him. As always, your friend was not on the same page with you.

“Stable? Excuse me, but didn’t he start a riot or something at the temple? Are we talking about the same dude who lead an uprising against the Romans? Hung out with whores, raised corpses from the dead, fucked around and found out until someone nailed him at the cross? Stable my ass!”

“Look, even if he wants something more, I’m not up for it,” you try to convince - both yourself and your friend.

“Mm. What a shame,” she smirks. “Is he handsome?”

“Yes, but–”

“Mmh. Deep voice?”

“Umm… It’s memorable?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know,” you cry. “Okay fine, it’s nice and deep and I like it. And I love his laugh,” you confess, and your friend does a silent little ‘yay’ and ‘I knew it’ cheer. You know it would be a field day for her if you finally got laid. As cliche as it sounds, you’ve always treated your friend as some sort of devil’s advocate.

You allow yourself to gush a minute, maybe two, about his muscles to your beloved devil. You tell your friend about his broad back, how wide his shoulders are, you tell her about the easy smiles he always sports with you. You describe the tactical pants and the snug black t-shirts he wears in detail, you confess he has a nice butt and that he’s so big he can't even fit the table.

You tell her how König starts to talk with his hands if he gets excited and how you have to fear he’s going to knock something over and make a mess. You tell about his blue eyes and the way they always soften when he looks at you, and looks at you often. All the time, really. He doesn’t even see other women, uh, you mean, other people in the cafe. He’s polite to the waitresses but never fully acknowledges anyone else but you.

Your friend's enthusiastic grin turns into an uneasy, pitying smile when she realises how deep into this man you actually are.

"I'm sorry babe… Someone has to give you the tough love," she reaches for your hand across the table. "Do you understand that if this guy is not working for the regular military, he's probably doing some war crime type of shit?"

The way you rush to defend your steadfast soldier who probably has his hands covered in blood, would make your abbess sigh.

"No, no, actually, he's working against these human trafficking cells–"

"Ok, he shoots human traffickers too, that's great. Good for him. You're still about to step into a pile of traumatised, immature, emotionally unavailable soldier shit. Trust me."

"Just because your soldier was like that doesn't mean mine has to be," you blurt.

Gosh - that was a good old Freudian slip...

"Yours now, is he?"

"No, that was… It just slipped."

"So you've actually thought about banging this guy?"

"What?! No."

"You have," she insists with a widening smile.

"No. No, I–"

"Oh my god. You're about to forsake your vows," she brings her hands together in excitement. "Oh my god, oh my god. This is amazing!"

You feel your lips snap into a thin line.

Just whose side is this woman on? Does she want to protect you from heartbreak or push you into some man's lap just for shits and giggles?

If you're chosen by God, your friend is chosen by the Devil, that's for sure. Nothing exciting ever happens behind the walls of your 'monastery', nothing but endless prayers and boring lectures and monotonous chores. Of course she thinks it's about time you got a round of good dick. She just wants to hear a filthy story when you return from your secret little fling, a fling that could get you kicked out of the convent for good.

"How tall is he exactly...? Does he have big hands?"

Your friend's eyes are shining with excitement - apparently the possible war crimes and atrocities König has committed are forgiven and forgotten.

"What does that have to do with anything…?"

"I can tell you what to expect in the dick department," she smiles with an impish grin.

You eventually leave the cafe with a dirty soul and a skittish heart.

The way your friend described your new acquaintance's probable blessings in the "dick department" left little to the imagination, and now you're actually scared.

This man has been so polite towards you, so kind to you. He's offered you coffee and pastries and cake along with an intellectual challenge, but now it's all ruined because all you can think about is what's inside his pants. How big his hands are, and how they correlate with what's downstairs. How nice it would feel to lay under him, with his chest pressed against yours, how divine it would be to get pinned down by him. How those strong, narrow hips would fit between your legs, broad shoulders eclipsing the view above as he slowly crawls on top of you. How he'd kiss your neck, your collarbones, your mouth, with such hunger that your legs eventually give in and spread wide open.

You return to the convent with a heavy heart and distressed thoughts, but find some solace in your evening prayers.

Nothing has happened, you remind yourself; these are only thoughts. You have seen a man who's interested in you for half a dozen times. You took part in a shallow, mundane, earthly conversation today with your friend, but nothing carnal or wrong has happened. Everything is the way it has always been.

You’re safe now, completely safe here. There’s no chaos and no guns and no tall men with big dicks, no Austrian war criminals trying to seduce you and then discard you after their deployment ends.

There’s only a man with a kind smile, warm eyes, and a nice, husky laugh. Some good coffee with distant notes of chocolate and perfectly civil conversations about European philosophers and the crisis of modern thought.

Sturdy walls support you; they have held you for centuries, and the crucifix above you has given hope to so many people before you. The ever-safe embrace of your faith envelops you, and you can always trust that you are loved, even when you’re flawed and incomplete.

Even with indecent thoughts, you can pray for mercy and ask for forgiveness. Even if you have impure urges towards your Austrian mercenary, you can still pray for him... It’s the least you can do to repay the kindness he has given you.

But the heaviness follows you to your room; it makes your chest feel dark and thick. You don’t say your last prayer before bed. You don’t want His eyes upon you tonight.

You don’t want to draw the Lord’s attention to you while your hand travels down beneath the sheets, your thoughts wandering to a certain god-like soldier with eyes like burning ice.

…

The next time you two meet, he crosses a clear boundary.

König has started to take you for walks, sometimes suggesting you two could visit a museum, clearly wishing you’d show him around the city. In truth, he’s the one parading you around like you’re his cute little lady. He pays for your museum tickets and brings you ice cream while you sit on a bench at a park, grabs your arm to draw your attention to a few swans swimming in a pond. And that’s ok - physical touch like that is ok. Holding hands is not.

Because…

One time, when you’re walking down a hill path, admiring the sunset, a big, warm hand wraps itself around yours.

It finds you in silence, envelops your tiny palm completely, squeezes you softly and emanates so much heat that a cord of fire shoots across your arm and straight into your heart.

You allow yourself to bask in the warmth of the huge, calloused palm for a few more seconds before ripping your hand away. You take a few hurried steps and turn, noticing he has stopped to look at you with guarded hesitation.

“I’m sorry,” you apologise even if König is the one who went off limits, “but this is not appropriate.”

“Entschuldigung… I know. That was out of bounds,” he raises a hand over his heart and bows his head a little, watching you from under his brows. You could keel over from how the gesture reminds you of Arthurian romances, of knights who place their hand on their heart to swear they’ll never disgrace a lady again.

Instead, you nod, your soul saved but your heart sinking like an anvil dropped in the sea. You’d want nothing more than for him to do it again, to grab your hand in his and never let go.

The rest of the walk happens in awkward silence, and you thought he would keep his distance - Christ, you thought you would keep your distance - but he insists on walking near to you, and so you continue down the path with your fingers still touching each other every now and then. You don't even try to move your hand away.

I’m going to die, you scream internally while looking at the bleeding sunset in the distance. You can’t look at him; you can’t even talk to him. It’s like your body is pumped full of some drug these days.

Falling for someone so hard is making you feel faint; your insides are churning and turning and your brain is a mess. Your heart is racing so fast that you’re afraid you’ll end up having a heart attack one of these days.

He’s probably used to this: the thrill and the adrenaline, a world laced with rush and extremes, indulging in things such as guns and explosions and blood and women and darkness.

You only have your safe routines, your sisters, a few friends you meet over coffee, a family you visit thrice a year. You’re not used to being bombarded with hormones and raw emotion like this. You have never, ever lusted after a man like this. The only thing you ever craved for was another slice of cake.

“Do you still want to see me?” He asks apologetically when you approach the convent which has now started to resemble a frigid, uneventful prison.

“Of course,” you hurry to say. “Just… No more holding hands. Ok?”

“Ok,” he chuckles softly, and you stop and turn.

He’s never been this near to where you live, and you’re afraid someone will see you if he escorts you to the door. You can’t be seen with a man in your current state, that would be a catastrophe. Anyone in the building could tell that this friendship is far from platonic.

“I’m sure you’ll find some other girl to… hold hands with,” you say, hating how bitter and self-pitying you sound. You even swallow when you look up into his eyes. They’re so soft now that the ice has almost disappeared, devoured by longing, a thick and sinful darkness.

“What if I don’t want some other girl?”

His voice is so wickedly gentle too.

You can see he’s fighting an inner battle to not touch you again; he’s standing toe to toe with you, towering above you, with his shoulders slightly hunched. If someone walked behind him, they wouldn’t even see you’re there because of how close you two are standing to each other. You can’t back away from him because you’d bump into a tall iron gate - in fact, you’re half-pressed against it now.

“I’ve enjoyed our conversations,” he continues with a throaty voice. God, how you would melt if he used that voice in bed…

“So have I,” your voice comes out as a wavy whisper. “But there can’t be anything more than that... I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too,” he laments, but the corner of his mouth curves slightly up. “So sorry you wouldn’t even believe…”

It’s mischief and seduction, darkness and deception, and your insides squeeze into a tight little knot.

“Please… Let’s just keep it the way it was,” you plead with eyes that beg the complete opposite.

“Sure... I will try my best, Kätzchen. Is this your convent…?”

You wonder if he’d pay you a visit if you told him where you sleep. You wonder if your single bed would creak if he tried to make love to you on it... You wonder if you could muffle your cries when you clenched with him inside you. If he’d groan too loudly when he reached his peak…

“It’s just around that corner,” you explain with a frail voice, hating how it betrays every single thing that crosses your mind.

“Good to know,” he replies, with no shakiness to his voice at all. He seems to enjoy making you so flustered; he seems to draw strength from people weaker than him. Which is probably 99 % of the population…

“How so,” you peep, already praying that he wouldn’t come to try his luck with the poorly locked windows. The back door is always open too because some of the nuns are smokers. König wouldn’t even need to use his insertion skills to get in.

“Now I know where to find you if I come to work here again,” he shrugs as if innocent. As if his eyes didn’t betray a few filthy thoughts too.

“Are you… Are you leaving then?”

“Soon.”

Your heart is about to break after two weeks of knowing some random guy, and you feel like the silliest woman in the world.

You try to remind yourself of what your friend said: this man just wants some easy pussy. He’s just bored with his fleshlight. Men like challenges, they like to hunt. You think about Lucky Luke and all the other cowboys who came and went as they pleased, breaking hearts and then riding into the sunset.

This cowboy only got to hold your hand though... And he’s saying he doesn’t want “some other girl”. Of course there’s a chance that he simply visits a brothel after discussing philosophy with you, or goes to a club or whatever, but you don’t want to entertain such horrible thoughts.

“I’ll miss you, then,” you try to sound neutral while he’s looking down at you like you’re his first love.

“Ganz sicher, I will miss you too. Perhaps I’ll visit you, work trip or not?”

“That would be nice.”

“It might take a while. But you won’t forget me, ja?”

“Of course not. I will pray for you every day,” you smile with a good amount of affection. It has the same effect as saying something like “I want to blow you right here on this street” because your Austrian giant gets visibly excited. His breath quickens, and his eyes start to wander again.

“...Are you sure I can’t hold your hand?”

You give him a shy smile, then quickly guide your eyes to the pavement. This König is definitely taking it as some love confession when a girl says she will pray for him. Your insides turn to jello when you see his hand close into a loose fist, then open with a spasmlike stretch. He wants to touch you so badly that he has to physically fight against it.

“No…?” He inquires high above you, so desperate that you’re quite sure he’s not frequenting any brothels in the area. He might stroke his cock to the thoughts of you, though…

You shake your head softly, then raise your eyes back to his. What a silly, silly man. If only you weren’t a nun, you’d let him do whatever he wants with you. Even abandon you after using you in every which way, because to be under that adoring gaze is worth a thousand heartbreaks.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

There’s more desperate hope in that question, and you wonder if tomorrow is the last time you’ll see each other. Soon could mean anything, but you can’t bear to hear the exact time and date when he leaves. Not tonight.

“Yes. Same time, same place,” you agree, then flee from under the dark, adoring stare to the safety of your cloister.

#könig x reader #könig x you #könig x nun!reader #forbidden love #könig fanfiction #konig x reader #konig x you

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rogueddie · 6 months

Text

Steve wakes up to a beeping noise- a heart monitor. He struggles to open his eyes, turning to squint around the hospital room. Something about it feels off, though he can’t tell what.

A woman stumbles in, almost spilling her coffee. She looks familiar.

“Hey,” Steve tries, only to end up coughing. His throat is painfully dry.

“Steve!” She exclaims. She hurries over, swapping the coffee for a plastic cup of water. She carefully holds it to his mouth for him to drink. “You have no idea how happy I am to see you awake! I know we can’t talk here but… fuck, man, you really had us scared for a minute. Promise me you won’t do anything like that again!”

“I promise?”

“Oh! Eddie finally woke up too! Just the other week. He keeps asking about you, I should go-”

Steve is only more confused. There’s only one Eddie he knows and that Eddie wouldn’t be caught dead worrying about someone like Steve. Not unless...

“Munson?”

“Duh. Oh! Nancy! I was supposed to- you’re ok, right? I’ll just be a minute!”

“Yeah, sure.”

She throws him a thumbs up, darting out the room, calling for Nancy.

His head throbs. He’s not sure what is going on, what happened… maybe that thing in the Byers house did get him after all? Maybe this is just a dream.

"Ah, Mr Harrington," a nurse greets with a warm smile. "It's good to see you awake. I'm just going to check your vitals and all of that stuff, then we'll need to go over some questions. Does that sound alright?"

"Questions?"

"You've been asleep for a few weeks. We need to make sure that everything up there is ok." She lightly raps her knuckles on the side of her head.

Despite how light she's trying to be, Steve feels a sinking in his stomach.

"Is that possible? What- what could be wrong?"

"Nothing too serious. You're speech is clear and legible, you're conscious and cognitive." She lifts the clipboard off the end of the hospital bed. "You remember your name?"

"Yeah," he says. After a moment, he realizes; "oh! Right, sorry. Steve Harrington."

"Date of birth?"

"April 29th, 1967."

"Do you know what todays date is?"

"Um... how long have I been out? You said a few weeks, right?"

"Almost three weeks, yes."

"Three weeks, so that would make today... December 4th?"

She doesn't respond for a moment. The way she keeps her eyes on the clipboard feels too calculated.

"The year?"

"Uh... 1983?"

She only pauses for a moment, before continuing to ask simple questions about current events, how he's feeling, where he feels any pain or discomfort.

He lies when she asks if he remembers what caused him to be hospitalized. He's not sure what the story Nancy and Byers will give. He can't imagine people... involved, would want the truth out. And he's not willing to risk whatever consequences will come with that.

"I'm going to talk with your doctor," she finally says. "I'll be one minute."

"Wait! What- am I ok?"

"Your doctor will explain everything, don't worry."

Amnesia, his doctor explains.

Three years of his life, gone. They try to reassure him, say that it's still early days and he could completely regain his memory, no problem.

But they don't know. Not really. It's all 'possibly's, and 'maybe's. No guarentee. There's still a chance that he may never remember.

The woman who ran in when he woke up, sat by his bedside and holding his hand in a death grip, doesn't look anymore reassured by their optimism than he is.

"We're... close?" He asks her.

"Yeah," she says, forcing a smile. "Platonic soulmates. It's, um... Robin, by the way. Robin Buckley."

"Do we have that... Mrs Click, you sit behind me, right?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I did." She looks stunned, almost dazed. "I didn't think you remembered, or even noticed me."

"How could I not? You're hilarious!"

"What? We never-"

"Oh, uh, you're muttering. Behind me. It wasn't exactly, um... quiet."

"Oh my god," she slaps a hand to her mouth, eyes wide. "You heard me talk about you!"

"Yeah, like I said; you're funny."

Luckily, someone else bursts into the room, interrupting whatever epiphany Robin is having.

"Steve!" He yells.

The guy looks like a kid, barely out of middle school. But he rushes to Steve, eyeing him up like he's Steves babysitter.

"Uh, hi?"

"Oh no," is the kids response. He turns to Robin. "How much does he remember?"

"He is right here, you know."

"I think some time in 83?" Robin replies, ignoring him.

"Before or after the whole... uh..." He glances at Steve with suspicion, then pointedly to the door.

"Jesus," Steve mutters, rubbing at the crease between his brows. "Did Nancy and Jonathan tell you, or what?"

"Tell us about... what?"

He rolls his eyes at them, pointing to the kid. "Whatever has short stack paranoid. The thing with the-" he flops one hand around, raised towards the ceiling, "the lights."

"Do you remember anything that happened after that?" The kid quickly asks. "At the hospital, and Will?"

"You mean the Byers kid? Isn't he, like... dead?"

"So you... don't remember me."

"Sorry?"

"It's fine," he lies.

Steve hates how sad the kid sounds. He glances between the two of them, both seemingly wallowing quietly about the situation.

"Which room is Munson in?" He asks, breaking the silence.

"What?" The kid frowns. "Eddie? Why?"

"Which room?"

"He's two doors down to the left," Robin answers. "Why- woah! Don't get up! You're still-"

"I'm fine," Steve gently pushes her away, ignoring both of them trying to plead for him to get back into bed.

Despite the bandages, bruises and sick look to him, Munson somehow looks better than Steve remembers him looking. The longer hair definitely suits him.

"Steve?" He frowns. He tries to sit up but, grimacing, he soon stops. "What the hell are you doing up? You're gonna freak Dustin out."

"Dustin? That the kid?" He asks, grunting as he sits on the edge of his bed.

"What do-" he pauses, expressions slowly twisting with the horror and realization. "Yeah. Yeah, man, Dustin is the kid."

"Right. So... um... we're friends now?"

Eddie winces. "We haven't exactly had time to talk about... that."

"What? It's been years!"

"It's not that simple."

"Are you saying that because it's true or because you don't-"

"Because it's true," Eddie rolls his eyes. "A lot has happened since then, Steve. You fell in love with Wheeler."

"What?" Steve can't hide his confusion. "Nancy?"

"Yes, Nancy. You made sure everyone fucking knew about that."

Steve snorts, having to grab at his side with a wince. He bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself from laughing.

"So you're still easy to rile up?" He asks, smirking.

"Wh- you-" Eddie gasps. He tries to sit up again, grunting when he flops back down. "You were trying to make me jealous?!"

He's looking at Steve with disbelief, but he's also smiling.

"Are we friends now?" Steve asks.

"Yeah, Stevie. We're friends."

"Just friends?"

"I don't... Steve, how bad is your amnesia?"

Steve quickly looks away, wincing. "Not... that bad? I remember that- the first time. This, um... monster shit. Falling out with Tommy. And the doctors are optimistic- they're pretty sure I'm going to remember."

"Alright... maybe it'd be better if we talk then, instead of rushing into it now."

"Jesus," Steve frowns. "I really have missed a lot. When did you get mature?"

"Hey-"

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #robin buckley #platonic with a capital p #steddie fic #ficlet #hurtcomfort

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