husband!hiromi higuruma is convinced that everyone hates him at work, so you give him a solution ˚.✦
He drops his head on your lap every time he arrives later than expected, suit still on, eyebags more prominent and a long sight escaping his mouth. Then he buries his head on your tummy, breathing you in like he’s sniffing a drug. And when you run your hands through his hair? He’s gone, totally gone.
“How was your day, my love?” you ask after some minutes of silence, letting the man get used to your touch and comfort. You’ve learnt not to rush him with his evening routine, letting him get rid of the suit whenever he wants, eat dinner and have a shower at his own pace.
“Terrible.” That’s his usual answer, you’ve given up asking more about it, you know he doesn’t like it at all. Only this time, he adds, with some sort of wetness in his voice: “I think everyone at work hates me.”
You let the words hang in the air for a moment, your fingers still gently carding through his dark hair with your nails lightly scratching at his scalp the way he likes.
“That's a bold claim, Hiro” you tell him softly, keeping your voice light and teasing even though your heart squeezes at how small he sounds.
He makes a muffled sound that might be a huff or a sob, you’re not sure. His arms tighten around your waist. You continue stroking his hair, letting the silence stretch just a little longer before you drop the joke:
“Well… if they all hate you that much, you can just quit tomorrow and become my full-time house husband. I’ll come home to dinner on the table, the laundry done and you waiting for me in a cute little apron. Sounds perfect, right? I’ll even pay you in cuddles and kisses.”
You expect him to snort, to roll his eyes like he always does when you tease him. Instead, he goes very still. He slowly lifts his head from your lap, just enough to look up at you with those tired eyes. His sharp features are soft and hopeful, the messy hair and faint flush not helping.
“You’d really… let me do that? Just… stay home? Take care of the house, take care of you?” His voice cracks just slightly on the last word. “I think I’d be good at it. I’m organized. I like routines. And I… I miss you. Every day I’m there, I just miss you.”
He drops his head back down, but this time he turns it so his cheek is pressed to your tummy. “I’m not joking,” he adds quietly, he’s afraid you’ll laugh at him. “If I quit… would you actually want that?”
His hand finds yours and laces your fingers together, holding on a little too tight, bracing for the possibility that you were only teasing. You can feel his heartbeat against your leg, faster than usual, vulnerable in a way Hiromi rarely lets himself be. The joke has clearly stopped being a joke and now he’s looking at you like quitting his hated job and becoming your house husband is the first good thing he's heard in months.
“Yes,” you say without hesitation. “I would love that, Hiro. If you just quit tomorrow and became my house husband… I’d be the happiest person alive.”
The relief that washes over his face is visible, he lets out a shaky breath, then buries his face against your stomach again for a second, inhaling deeply. When he lifts his head this time, there’s a shy smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“I’d be here every evening when you come home,” he murmurs against you. “No more coming back to an empty apartment because I’m stuck at the office until midnight. I could… take care of everything so you don’t have to worry. And when you’re stressed, I’d just pull you onto the couch like this and let you use me as your personal pillow. Run your hands through my hair until I fall asleep on you, the way I always do.”
a/n: i don't like this but i needed to get it out of my drafts
The Doll House - A Higuruma x Reader Fanfic Part 3
After you drunkenly sell yourself as sex doll, you call your old friend (and crush) from law school for help. But you didn’t realize the strait laced, mild mannered Higuruma is now a trainer at the Doll House!
You never expected to be back here, in this seedy little bar with its sticky floors and garish lighting, accompanied by Hiromi. In fact, a couple weeks ago, you would’ve been mortified for him to know you’ve ever set foot in such a place.
But the situation has changed drastically. Right now the two of you are here to talk to regulars and staff alike, to see if anyone recognizes you and could remember the state you were in the night you sold yourself to a Doll shop.
Hiromi told you to dress similarly to how you were dressed that night, to help with the recognition. That means wearing a little black dress with a plunging neckline and probably more makeup than you needed. He didn’t say anything about your look when you stepped out his room to meet him in the hall, but he did raise an eyebrow.
He stays close as the two of you approach the bar and he signals for the barkeeper to come over. He smoothly orders a couple of mild drinks and then asks the man behind the bar, “Do you recognize this woman?” as he gestures toward you.
The bartender looks at your face for a moment before shrugging. “A lot of women come in here. They all start to look the same after a while.”
The comment is a little offensive, but you shake it off. “I was in here two weeks ago. You served me several drinks. Do you remember me at all?”
The man shrugs again. “Sorry, miss. I barely remember the chick at the end of the bar right now.”
With a sigh you pick up the drink Hiromi ordered and begin sipping it. You’ve decided to stop getting totally drunk until you get this mess sorted out, so you’re taking it slow tonight.
“Let’s ask around a bit more,” Hiromi says, guiding you away from the bar with his hand gently resting on your back.
You move through the bar as a pair, occasionally stopping to ask people if they remember seeing you. No one does, and you start to wonder if you got so drunk you forgot which bar you went to.
Until you nearly collide with a young waitress. She steadies the tray of drinks in her hands as the two of you exchange apologies, then she looks up at your face. You see it immediately in her eyes: recognition. She blinks, then looks at Hiromi, her eyes drawn to his somewhat possessive hand on your back.
She blushes, then looks away.
“Hey, do you remember me?” you ask her.
She hesitates, then nods.
“Can we talk?”
She glances around the room, looking a bit like a nervous bunny. “I have a break in half an hour.”
“Thanks.”
The wait is maddening, because you’re desperate to know what this girl remembers and if she can be of any help. You and Hiromi sit in a corner booth and sip drinks until the waitress appears at your table. She sits down beside you, still looking uncomfortable.
“I’m sorry,” she says before you can ask a single question. “I should’ve tried to help you that night, but I guess it’s too late now.”
“What do you mean?” you ask.
Her eyes flick to Hiromi. “Looks like you’ve already been sold. At least you got a handsome owner, right?”
You look at him, both of you quickly shifting to “lawyer mode”.
“How do you know she was sold as a Doll?” he asks.
“Well, that guy came and took you out of the bar with him.”
You lean closer to her. “What guy?”
She looks confused, as if she can’t understand why you don’t know who she’s talking about. “I don’t know his name,” she says, “but he’s the owner of that Doll shop across the street. He comes in here sometimes and tries to get drunk women to go to his shop with him.”
She pauses and looks down, then back to your face. “I’m sorry I didn’t stop him, but I didn’t know what to do. He usually gives up and leaves after a while. You kept telling him to get lost, but then a few minutes later you were stumbling out the door with him. It happened really fast.”
“Was it obvious I was drunk?” you ask her.
She nods again. “Oh yeah. Very obvious. You could barely stand, and you were slurring all your words.”
You look over at Hiromi, whose eyes focus sharply on the waitress before he asks his question: “You say he’s tried to do this before with other women? He has a history of this behavior?”
“Yes. I see him in here at least once a week. He even asked me if I’d be interested in being a Doll. But all the sober women turn him down, so lately he targets drunk women.”
You reach over and take her hand, looking at her name tag and then back to her face. “Listen, Yumi, I need your help. This man isn’t my owner, he’s my attorney. I’m appealing the contract because I was drunk when I signed. Would you be willing to make a statement about what you witnessed that night?”
She suddenly shrinks back, withdrawing her hand. “I’m sorry, I can’t! I’ve seen a lot of rough people hanging around that Doll shop. What if they do something to me? I can’t get involved!”
Hiromi leans forward. “I promise nothing will happen to you. You’ll be protected.”
“By who?” she asks, her voice slightly high pitched as she slides out of the booth. “I’m really sorry, honestly I am. But I can’t risk it. I’m too scared.”
Hiromi stands up as well, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his card. “Here, please just take this in case you change your mind,” he says, then looks her in the eyes. “I have certain connections. Just saying their names will make any troublemakers leave you alone. No one will hurt you.”
Yumi stares at the card as if it’s a snake, but eventually takes it. She slips it into the pocket of her apron and leaves without another word.
You and Hiromi are both quiet until you get back to the Doll House, in his room. You kick off your heels in frustration and turn to him as he’s pulling off his jacket.
“That was disappointing,” you say, trying to keep a cool head. You don’t need him seeing one of your epic crash outs.
He loosens his tie as he steps closer. “Let’s just give her a few days. She might decide to help us.”
You sigh and will your muscles to relax. You’ve been so tense all night. Then you suddenly remember what he said to Yumi.
“Do you really have connections to dangerous people?”
He grins. “I wasn’t lying to her. A couple of my fellow trainers were pretty notorious in the past. They still have reputations for being men you don’t mess with.”
You can guess at least one of them, but you don’t want to pry. Instead you go over to the dresser and begin taking your jewelry off. None of it is super expensive. A gold bracelet that was a graduation gift, a necklace you bought for yourself, earrings a friend gave you for your birthday.
In the mirror, you watch Hiromi pull off his tie and unbutton the first three buttons of his shirt. You fight back the smile that wants to creep across your face. For years you fantasized about a moment like this: the two of you coming home and casually chatting while getting undressed. Like a real couple.
But that little slip into fantasy land comes with a painful reminder that reality doesn’t match. You’re not a real couple, and you never will be. Soon, either the appeal will be a success or you’ll be sold to someone else as a Doll. In both cases, you and Hiromi will part ways again.
You head toward the bathroom to change out of your dress. It may seem silly, given that he regularly sees you naked, but you have to maintain at least a little distance.
He stops you, suddenly right behind you, his hands on your shoulders.
You turn your face to the side to look at him. “What is it?”
He doesn’t say anything, but his hands slide down your arms soothingly. He has that intense look in his eyes again.
Your voice is so quiet it’s almost a whisper. “There’s no session scheduled for tonight.”
His lips find your neck as he murmurs, “Let’s work one in.”
You battle the urge to melt into his arms. “I can’t handle being teased right now,” you tell him.
One of his hands slides around and slips into low cut front of your dress, squeezing your breast. “No teasing tonight,” he says. “Let me make you cum until you forget everything troubling you.”
You sigh as you lean back against him, surrendering yourself to his touch. “Make me feel good, Hiromi.”
His free hand slips between your thighs, under your dress. You feel his skillful fingers pushing your panties aside so they can reach your soft folds, then the delicious sensation of his finger rubbing circles into your throbbing clit.
Ahh, you needed this! Things have been tense and awkward since the night he fucked you, when you blurted out some honest but embarrassing shit. The sessions these past few days have been less intense, almost hollow.
But tonight, in this moment, you feel the heat you’ve missed.
Hiromi’s mouth moves from your neck up to your jawline, then he’s at your ear. “Cum for me,” he says, and even though you didn’t realize you were close, an orgasm suddenly washes over you.
The shock of it nearly takes your breath away. Is this what he meant by teaching you to “cum on command?” Is your body so used to climaxing upon hearing those words that it did so automatically?
You don’t have time to put more thought into it, because Hiromi is stepping around to be in front of you before kneeling down. His hands move up your hips, dragging your dress up to your waist. Then he slides your panties down your thighs, over your ankles, off your bare feet.
With his hands he nudges your legs apart, then looks up at you with hungry eyes. You’re already breathing quickly, your heart pounding as your body tries to recover from the climax it just reached.
It doesn’t get time to. Hiromi buries his face in your dripping cunt, his tongue working to lap up every drop that spilled out of you.
A moan breaks free from your lips, your knees nearly buckling. “Hiromi… I’m too sensitive right now!” you whine, your hand moving to his hair.
He doesn’t relent, only squeezes your thigh with one hand while the other snakes up under your dress to grope your tits.
His mouth feels so good, suckling gently on your swollen clit, that you have no idea how you haven’t cum again already. It feels like you’re on the edge, but can’t quite jump off.
Hiromi pauses and turns his face toward yours. His lips are glistening with your juices as he says a single word: “Cum.”
The effect is immediate. Your body spasms as the orgasm hits you, your hands flying to his shoulders to hold on for dear life.
Oh god. Your body has already been conditioned to only cum when he tells you to! The realization is both alarming and very very hot. Higuruma Hiromi, the law nerd you’ve wanted for years, now controls your pleasure.
How will things ever go back to normal after this?
Higuruma leans back on his heels to watch her. She’s especially beautiful when she cums, her body trembling, her hands digging into his shoulders, her face glowing.
He thought they were making progress when they finally had sex the other night, but she became distant again right after. Why does she keep withdrawing from him after they have such intimate moments? For that matter, why did she withdraw from him after graduation?
For the past few nights, he’s resisted fucking her again, always retreating to the bathroom to take care of his needs himself. He doesn’t want to push things too far. But tonight, he doesn’t think he can hold back. Seeing her in that dress, seeing the way the other men in the bar looked at her, only made him realize how badly he still wants her.
He stands up and pulls her closer, relishing the feel of her in his arms, the feel of the slight tremor that runs through her body as it deals with the aftershocks of her climax.
She’s pulling her dress over her head, exposing her gorgeous breasts, looking at him with glassy eyes. God, he needs her. He needs to be inside her, to feel her soft, pulsing warmth around his cock.
He takes her to the bed and sits down, pulling her into his lap facing him. Her arms encircle his neck and she starts grinding against him before he can even open his pants. She clearly needs him too, and that thought makes his usually steady hands fumble with his belt.
Finally, he manages to free his aching erection. She immediately rises up, positions herself, and then sinks down on him. She whimpers when he’s fully sheathed inside her, clutching at the front of his shirt as if trying to tear it open. He helps her by ripping it open himself, not caring that the shirt was expensive.
Fuck it. Not like he doesn’t have a dozen more white button ups in his closet.
Her hands slide across his chest, her fingers soft and searching, moving downward, finally tracing over the thin strip of black hair beneath his navel.
Then she begins riding him.
He chokes back a groan, leaning back slightly so he can enjoy the full view of her. Fuck, her pussy is perfect! So perfect he can’t stop himself from bucking his hips up to fuck her just a little bit deeper.
She cries out, clenching around him. “Ah! Ahh! Hiromi!”
Now’s the time, he thinks. If he’s ever going to get an answer out of her, it’s now that she’s impaled on his cock and her brain is turning to mush.
He slides one hand up to her face, gently holding it so that she’s looking him in the eyes.
“Why did you ghost me?” he asks, his voice more strained than he intended.
She’s quiet for a moment, only panting. Then she moans again and says, “I couldn’t face you… not after I fucked everything up…”
“I would’ve helped you,” he says, his hips rising from the bed to thrust up into her again before he moves on to his next question. “Why didn’t you ever tell me how you felt about me?”
She hesitates again, trying to look away but he won’t let her. She whimpers and clenches him, obviously becoming desperate to cum around his cock. But she can’t. Not until he tells her to.
Realizing this, she looks at him with a mixture of frustration and embarrassment. “You were too good for me!” she suddenly shouts. “What would you want with a loser like me?!”
“Seriously?!” he asks, totally incredulous. “I wanted you so fucking bad I thought I’d die! I waited years for you to say something!”
Her eyes widen and her fingers dig into his shoulders. “Then why didn’t you say something, you asshole!”
He’s so thrown off by the sudden turn around that he’s speechless for a moment. But he quickly recovers, wrapping his arms around her torso and pulling her even further down on him.
“I was an idiot and a coward,” he says, reaching up to wipe the tears from her face with his fingers. “Between the two of us, I think I fucked up way worse than you ever did. I let you get away even though I knew how you felt.”
She goes still, leaving him plunged all the way in. “You… you want someone like me?”
He puts one hand on either side of her face. “No, not someone ‘like’ you. Nobody else will do. It has to be you.”
With that, he finally kisses her, smashing his lips into hers as he suddenly starts thrusting again. He feels her body trembling, her skin hot against his. The kiss is passionate but brief, as she pulls back and says, “Please… Hiromi… let me cum!”
“I was honest,” he says, one hand sneaking down to play with her clit. “Now it’s your turn. How do you feel right now?”
She gasps at the pleasure, squeezing his cock. “I love you! I don’t want this training to end! Please… please don’t ever stop!”
He can’t stop the grin from spreading over his face. “Good girl. Now cum for me!”
She does. Her eyes roll back as she cries out, her nails scraping his skin. He can feel her whole body throbbing.
At nearly the same moment, his own strength gives out and he groans as he spills out everything he has inside her. The pleasure is so hot, so intense, that he thinks he sees stars.
Almost immediately, she starts to pull away, to extract herself from him. His arms around her tighten. “Don’t you dare run away again,” he says. “Face me. Face whatever this is between us.”
She looks down sadly. “Hiromi… don’t you get it? If the appeal doesn’t work, you’ll have to hand me over to someone else.”
“I’ll keep you,” he says.
She looks up. “What?”
“Trainers at the Doll House can choose one Doll they’ve trained to keep for themselves. This is the easiest choice of my life,” he says.
Several different emotions run across her face. Confusion. Shock. Relief. But before she says anything, Higuruma’s phone loudly chimes. He reaches over to the nearby nightstand, her still in his lap, and looks at the screen.
“It’s a text from Yumi, the waitress,” he says. “She wants to help.”
Beer belly Higuruma..Oui Merci! Little NSFW under the cut..
This artist is making my interest in Higuruma skyrocket to the moon because she gets it..he definitely has a soft beer belly because he is stationed in his office 24/7, no time for the gym..once he does get back home he gets his hands on the next best instant meal and washes it down with like two cans of beer, even though he's told himself no more alcohol for the time being. Same with things like fastfood and sweets..but he can't help it. After a long day of hunching his back over case files, all he wants is to stuff his face with greasy food, get a little drunk, and then go to bed, where he has a night's sleep of approx. four hours before he has to get up again for work.
When he first starts dating you, he's afraid his physique might jeopardize his chances of getting closer to you, physically and mentally. You don't push him to get intimate right way, but you must admit it is a bit disappointing. You love his body! But he doesn't know that and gets really insecure..
He mentions wanting to work out more before going to the office, and leaves your shared bed earlier in the morning to try and crunch in some ab exercises at the gym. After work you welcome him home with a hearty plate of rice and steak, or a good, filling stew. Ever since you moved in, you've been replacing his microwave meals with homemade food filled with love.
You try and sneak in some dessert afterwards, like a brownie you bought at the convenience store, but he politely declines and tells you he's been trying to cut some weight away, jokingly poking at his protruding little belly visible under his t-shirt. He doesn't catch you almost drooling at the sight and holding yourself back from jumping his bones right there and then.
Higuruma believes that he needs to be built well for you to have the most pleasure in bed, but he doesn't realize that you love him like this..forget about the six-pack or defined biceps, you always preferred men with a little more meat on them. He's just so soft and gives you the best hugs when the two of you are cuddling.
When you tell him these affirmations late at night, he gets really shy at first, cute cheeks starting to dust pink. But he starts to thank you and gives you sweet kisses all over your face. He really did not deserve you..
Even after slaving away most of his hours at the office, and barely having time to properly dote on you, you still stayed by his side and showed him that he is perfect just the way he is.
You won't hold him back from getting more active, but you do assure him he doesn't need to get shredded for you to get more attracted to him, because you already were from the start..
Now, ever since you two established that you like him soft around the edges, Higuruma has started to notice your elongated staring at his body, especially towards his stomach..
Nightly makeouts are hotter and heavier, your hands getting friskier, gravitating to his stomach and his to your soft thighs.
Once he does eventually make love to you, and he's got your knees pushed to your chest, legs dangling off his shoulders, you can't stop looking at the little jiggle of his belly while he thrusts in and out of you.
The pleasure you feel in the moment is overwhelming, both of your stomachs lightly grazing each other in movement.
Higuruma starts to pant in your ear, lips caressing your temple.
"You are so, so beautiful..ah..please, keep touching me.."
He's referring to you lightly scratching his upper body with your nails, watching faint red stripes blossom under his chest. You can't stop squeezing the sides of his waist and feeling the fat under your palms.
"I love your body, Hiro..love it so much, ngh! Get closer to me.."
Higuruma makes your wish his command and wraps his soft, strong arms around your middle. Your knees start to give out and you instinctively cross your ankles on his lower back, hands holding his shoulders for support as he starts to ram into you harder.
"Fuck! Hiromi.."
The faster thrusting and his body being closer makes both of your stomachs glide across each other, the sound of skin slapping bouncing off the walls.
It's safe to say he won't ever hold back now that he's aware what tickles your fancy..
A/N: Gomen gomen this is a repost, if you saw the first one I love you..peau-douce is now its own blog everyone clap. Direct link to the artwork here, support the artist pretty please 💋 + credit for the dividers here! @uzmacchiato xx
CHAPTER ONE — MARIE’S NIGHTMARE
SUMMARY: During your first month as one of Playtime Co’s esteemed counselors, you help a child open up about their nightmares of monochrome monsters and red fog…but there’s something about the way one of the scientists looks at you when he comes to collect the child. It gives you the shivers, but leaves you wanting more.
A/N: The first chapter in a multi chapter series I’m writing for the one and only HARLEY SAWYER!!!!! This part doesn’t have much Harley in it but I promise he will be in the next!!!!
chapter one | chapter two | chapter three | chapter four | chapter five | chapter six | chapter seven | chapter eight | chapter nine | chapter ten | chapter eleven | chapter twelve | chapter thirteen | chapter fourteen | chapter fifteen | chapter sixteen | chapter seventeen | chapter eighteen | chapter nineteen | chapter twenty | chapter twenty one | chapter twenty two |
Two weeks, three days, five hours, and fifty-seven minutes. That’s exactly how long you’d been working at Playtime co.
You were a psychologist, hired to tend to the orphans. Your job was to make sure they felt right at home and deal with any mental illnesses—like depression, anxiety, etc.
You weren’t surprised, in all honesty. When Playtime co. had first opened the doors to its orphanage, many of the orphans they took in had just lost their parents or were used to living in multiple homes that changed every month.
Some never even had a home to begin with.
You supposed that was noble of Elliot Ludwig, Playtime’s founder.
He brought the children in, staring the playcare in 1976. He was a good man. A kind man. Elliot was the type you would look up to as a father or grandfather figure, even if you weren’t blood related. Ludwig just had paternal instict.
After he had lost his daughter in that tragic accident, he longed to be near children. You saw the way he scanned each child’s face with such…despair?
You weren’t even sure how you could describe it.
In fact, you had never planned to work at an orphanage at all. Sure, you were a certified child-focused psychiatrist, but you had planned to work elsewhere, maybe opening up your own company or pratice at some point.
But this was a better cause. You knew it was, in your heart.
Everyone here was so kind. From the bubbly and kind Stella Greyber to the charming Leith Pierre, who welcomed you with open arms—or even your own counselor associates—Gracie Green, Claire Harper, and Joel Sinclair, the head counselor. You were sure you would make the most out of your time at Playtime.
However, there was one unpredictable variable.
Harley Sawyer. An executive like Leith and Stella—but much less friendly. Hell, you often only saw him when you passed by his office in the mornings. The man seemed reclusive at best, and antisocial at worst. Or maybe he just disliked you in particular. Despite never speaking a word to the man, whenever you passed him in the hallways, his eyes seemed to linger on you.
It was as if he was giving you a resentful glare and sizing you up at the same time. But why? You didn’t even work in the same sectors. He was always busy, working away in the labs—and you were always filing paperwork and helping the children in the Playcare.
He was strange, to say the least.
Fortunately, you wouldn’t have to think about him much longer. You had a long day ahead of you.
You were scheduled to meet with some of the more troubled kids from playcare that Ms. Harper had personally suggested begged you speak with—Kevin Barnes and Marie Payne.
Marie was a sweet girl, you had never had any trouble dealing with her. She was polite and straight to the point about her feelings. She was a newer arrival, but she had adjusted well from what your notes told you.
Kevin, on the other hand was erratic and often lashed out. He was known as the problem kid amongst the Playtime counselors. You assumed it was trauma. The poor boy had watched his own parents drown in a boating accident. He was tossed around from home to home in the foster system before Playtime. The Playcare is the only stable home he has known since his parent’s untimely demise.
You pitied the poor boy, felt heartbreaking empathy for him—but sometimes he was so difficult to work with, you didn’t know what to do. In your first two weeks alone, he had smashed through one of the windows in home sweet home with a baseball and kicked two other orphans in the shins.
Luckily, you would meet with Marie first.
Pushing open the smooth door of your office, you step inside the dim room. In an attempt to make it as cozy as possible for the children you meet with, you removed all of the cold light fixtures and replaces the bulbs with warm ones.
Warm lighting was always more inviting, you had observed. You hadn’t done much study on the brain, but you knew the lighting mimicked the orange sunset on a bright summer day—or the firelight in a cozy cabin.
It was perfect for calming the kids.
You quickly go around the room, switching on all of the lamps before sitting down in your dark leather chair.
Suddenly, a knock taps gently at your door. “Come in.” You utter, pulling out a pen from your cup holder. In walks Marie, eyes wide and face pale. “Hello.” She mutters, looking down as she sits in the seat across from your mahogany desk.
To say she’s seen a ghost would be an understatement.
She was older than the other children, having just turned eleven years old last Monday. She had only arrived in Playcare two or three years ago, but seemed more familiar with her surroundings than some of the children who had been there longer.
She was an explorer. From what Ms. Harper and Gracie had told you, she was often seen near ‘Home Sweet Home’ complaining of a red gas that made her ‘sleepy’. Could gasses even be red?
“Hello, Marie.” You greet calmly, taking a drink out of your thermos. “How are you feeling today?” The girl shudders at your question, her expression downcast. You sit in silence for a moment, waiting for the girl to respond. “G-good…” She fidgets with her bracelet, green eyes looking up to meet yours for the first time since she’s entered your office.
You quickly pull out her file, provided to you by Ms. Harper. Inside, an incident report labeled ‘Marie Payne’. Inside was a transcribed interview between one of Playtime’s scientists and Harper. Unfortunately, you wouldn’t have time to read it.
Instead, you pull out another incident form, this time labeled ‘Nightmares.’
“Marie, how would you describe your nightmares?” You ask patiently. The little girl shakes her head, wiping beads of sweat as she looks down into her lap.
“I saw a creature.” She speaks softly, almost a whisper. “It was big, and gray.” She pauses, looking up at you. Her emerald eyes are laced with dewy tears. “Please, continue.” You say, grabbing a notepad from one of the lower cabinets of your wooden desk—but Marie still had your full attention.
“It looked like a…cat?” She says, a tear finally breaking loose and running down her cheek.
You quickly jot down her description. “Did it try to hurt you?”
“No, but there was red gas!” She exclaims, starting to get riled up. “Marie. Calm down.” You soothe, gently taking her hand in yours. “Let’s breathe together, okay?” Together, you sharply inhale, followed by a soft exhale.
Inhale. Exhale.
“Have you had any other dreams like this?” You felt bad pushing her, but it was your job—and you wouldn’t be able to find out what was causing these nightmares until she told you more.
“Every night.” The girl shudders. “It’s different.”
“Different how?” You ask, your pen still scribbling across the paper as you try to keep in tune with Marie’s dreaded explanations.
“Last night, I saw her…”
“Saw who? Ms. Harper-?”
“No, Miss Gracie.”
Green? You ponder. You often worked closely with her. She was the ‘Wellness & Integration’ counselor at Playtime, finalizing the children’s adoption papers—whether they were coming in or out of the facility—met with the potential parents, and helped the children integrate into their new homes.
She was truly a marvel. A hero in your eyes.
Sometimes, you almost wished you could be more like her. You wanted to help these kids, truly. Unfortunately, sometimes you couldn’t. You couldn’t stop the nightmares plaguing Marie’s sleep. You couldn’t stop the bullying Theodore was receiving from his peers. You couldn’t even stop Kevin’s streak of bad behavior.
She had a certain way of soothing the children you simply couldn’t accomplish.
But you would—starting with Marie.
“What did Miss Gracie tell you?” You push.
“It’s fun to be a toy.” The girl says, wiping her tears as a smile appears on her face. “I think,” She pauses, thinking carefully. “I want to be a toy, too.”
You pause, thinking of how to respond. You were sure it would be ‘fun’ to be a toy, but why would Gracie say that out of the blue? “I think it would be fun to be a toy, but being a human is much better, don’t you think?”
“Oh no!” Marie shakes her head stubbornly. “Toys have it so much better! They’re soft, adored, loved…” She trails off, almost looking disoriented. “They took me into a room, she was on the screen. She talked to me.” Probably Gracie’s office, you assume.
“And then I saw mommy lying on a table.”
“Mommy? As in Mommy Long Legs?” You ask, jotting down more notes.
Out of all the toys in the factory, you had always found ‘Mommy Long Legs’ to be one of the creepiest. Maybe it was her stare, or the fact that she resembled a spider. Spiders always had a way of being eerie.
“She has green eyes like me.” Marie notes. “She does.” You agree.
“Marie, maybe we should-” You were about to finish your sentence when 3 loud knocks pound on your sleek door.
“One moment please!”
You stand up, walking around your desk—and Marie—quickly striding over to the tall, mahogany door. You twist the doorknob, opening it with ease.
Outside you see a face etched into your deepest annoyances. Harley Sawyer. Of course it’s him. Just your luck.
For some reason, you desperately craved his approval, even though you didn’t know why. Sawyer gave you the dirtiest (NOT THAT WAY) looks. Looks of disdain, looks of near-hatred. He looked at you like you murdered half his family and ate his dog. He couldn’t be that and though, right? Maybe he looked at everyone like that.
Maybe he was a total sweetheart beneath his dark eyes and malevolent frown. God, you hoped that was true.
“Dr. Sawyer.” You greet, stepping aside so he can come into your office. “How can I help you?”
“I have been sent to collect Ms. Payne. She is no longer in the care of the Playtime counselors.” You instantly feel a smile etched into your face. Had Marie finally been adopted?
“That is great news!” You exclaim. “Marie, you’re getting a new home and a new family!” The girl’s face, which had previously been numb, tear-eyed, and pale—instantly lights up.
“Really?” She asks, her brown side pony bobbing as she looks up at you and the doctor. “Really.”
“Although, Sawyer-“
“Doctor Sawyer.” He corrects, his usual stern expression unchanging, as if it were carved into the stone of a statue.
“Doctor Sawyer…why did you come to collect her? I thought you were busy?” You press. Although you were happy Marie was getting adopted, it felt unusual that someone of Sawyer’s clearance would be escorting a child.
“Yes, I assure you I could’ve sent one of the lab boys or White down here, but I thought it better to escort her myself.”
“Aww, that’s sweet.” You feel your heart swell. Maybe you had misjudged him. Maybe Sawyer’s face was always in a half-grimace, half-frown state. You shouldn’t judge someone off their personal appearance, your remind yourself.
But, if you were to describe him…
He had combed back dark hair, complimentary to his pale skin and dark eye bags that gave him an undead appearance. He had a string jaw, and his face looked as if it had been sculpted by the gods themselves.
But he was an employee. Your own co-worker!
You can’t be thirsting over him like a pathetic old hound.
“Goodbye, Marie.” You say, turning to the girl. Without a warning, she jumps into your arms, hugging you tightly. “Bye!” She squeals, grabbing the doctors hand and nearly dragging him out the door.
Sawyer gives you one last look, his face unchanging but his eyes giving you a look of resignation as he closed the door to your office.
Whatever that meant, it was out of your hands now and into Gracie Green’s.
By the end of the day she would finalize the paperwork for Marie’s adoption and introduce the girl to her new family.
You would miss her, but you couldn’t help but smile at the thought of her happy.
She would be moving on to a happier, better life with her new family. She would look back at the Playcare with a few fond memories here and there maybe—but this was the beginning of a new chapter in her life.
After all, isn’t that what Sawyer was hinting at? A chance for her to have a family?
It’s not like he was bringing her to the labs.
Actually, the more you thought about it—why did a toy company even need labs?
Sure, maybe to make new toys, but you knew that’s not what Sawyer and White did when they were on the clock. The toy factories were upstairs, while the labs were several stories beneath your feet.
Unfortunately, you didn’t have time to question further as Ms. Harper barged into your office. “We have a problem.”
“A problem?” You ask, standing up for the second time in ten minutes. You really needed to get more active.
“Kevin is causing problems again. I was hoping you could come down to the Playcare with me and help calm him down?” Ms. Harper suggested, holding your office door open as you walked around your wooden desk to greet her.
“Of course, Claire.” You reply, following her out of your office and closing the door.
There was nothing to worry about at Playtime—and if there was—you had other priorities than investigating whatever they were doing in the labs. For all you know, they could be finding the cure to cancer! Which was unlikely, but you could never be absolutely positive until you had proof.
Plus, besides the looks of disdain he sometimes gave you in the hallways, Sawyer seemed like a nice guy! So did White and all of the executives—Ludwig in particular.
They weren’t hiding anything, you were just being paranoid.
Pairing: Yandere! Caine x gn!reader
Summary: You try to reason with Caine on the behalf of the others, but Caine is too far gone to listen
Tags: sfw, Ep 8 spoilers, yandere Caine, yandere themes– isolation, obsesses and possessive Caine, Caine crossing personal boundaries/non consensual holding (not sexual! Hes just holding you)', light body horror (being 'fuse' together), vague description of pain, gender netural
W.C: 1.5K A/N: divider credits at bottom of post, please let me know if i miss any warnings or tags! I hope this is 'yandere' enough :)
"You did so well on your adventure, my lovely loyal superstar!" Caine greets. You feel dumbfounded as you were just finishing your adventure and now find yourself landing on Caine's lap, straddling him with each knee on the outside of his thighs. You lean back, placing your hand behind you in an attempt to create space, and to gather your bearings. You jump in surprise at the touch of the desk under your palm, and quickly scan around to see you're in Caine’s office. Yhe one you and the others got to explore on the last normal adventure.
"Ten out of Ten! That's another gold star on your chart!" Caine happily shouts as a star chart suddenly appears with each of the circus members' faces. Each member's selections are empty while yours is covered in stars. Caine places the new star on top of the older ones before tossing it away with an obnoxious laugh. You wonder how long he had that chart or if he spawned it in like that for the bit. With how unhinged his behaviour has become, its hard to tell the nature of the star chart.
Ever since he snapped, and reminded the others of their place in the circus, there's been a dramatic shift in the way he treats you by blatantly showing off his favouritism. Before, he would treat you like the others, using the same silly nicknames and being respectful of personal space. Now, he freely shows a more romantic affection that you wouldn't think Caine was capable of.
Using nicknames reserved for significant others, and becoming clingy for hugs, cuddles, and demanding kisses. Along with Caine trying to isolate you from the others, to keep your attention on him. You were the only one willing to do so. The only one looking forward to his adventures. To ask him for things. To thank him. To praise him.
"And how was your adventure, my dear human? Were the cats at the cat cafe absolutely pawsitively purrfect?" Caine integrates. His hands are gripping your thighs, digging into the muscle to prevent you from trying to wiggle off his lap, and shuffle onto the desk. Keeping you firmly on his lap while he carefully studies every facial expression, awaiting the worship he expects from you.
Caine has even started to show off how much he prefers you by giving you nicer adventures. During his announcement of the day's adventure, he'll start by describing the one he designed for the others. The adventures sound like nightmares, activities they are destined to lose at, and guarantee to walk away cover in brusies.
He follows it up by describing your nicer, easier and safer sounding adventure in a sickening sweet voice that rubs salt into the other's wounds. He even starts to summon two portals to truly highlight that wedge between you and your friends.
"It was nice! I liked it," you nervously answer. Fidgeting in Caine's hands as you build the courage to bring up the others. To try again in making Caine see reason, to stop harming them in the name of 'the viewers'. You know they depend on you, that they wait with bated breath in hopes you get Caine to stop tormenting them. You're the only one whose close enough to get Caine to listen, with these one-on-one sessions. But so far, every attempt has failed.
"You liked it." Caine quietly gasps, sounding surprised by your words. His hands mindlessly slide up to grip your hips, pulling you towards him as his pupils shift into little hearts. "Of course you liked it! It was made specially for you, my love!" He winks, putting on a bravo. Trying to appear sly after showing some vulnerability.
"Right," you nod uneasily. Your hands curl into tight fists as you prepare to drive straight into helping your friends. Just because you failed before doesn’t mean you’ll stop trying. "You know, Caine, I think the others would have loved the cat cafe adventure!" The atmosphere shifts instantly at the mention of them. Your stomach twist, but you push through. "Th-they were just starting to warm up to your adventures. If you tone down the violence on the next one, I'm sure-"
"No." Caine cuts you off. His tone firm, and his gaze harsh.
"What–?"
"How many chances did I give them to 'warm up' ?!" Caine shouts. You wince at the pain coming from your hip, his fingers digging in. "Hours I spent slaving away, tailoring adventures for them! Well, they had their chance to 'warm up'. NO MORE! They're spoiled. Ungrateful brats!"
"Unlike you." His tone makes a drastic shift as he sighs out your name. His hands release the vice-like grip to –– slowly, gently, adoringly –– trail up your waist. "You didn't need to warm up to my adventures. You love them right away! Right?" His voice cracks but he continues, ignoring the way you squirm, "You liked my adventures. Taking the time to compliment them. You, my most perfect devoted worshipper!" Caine worships over you, and you shiver at the feeling of his hands dragging over your rib cage.
"I- Well," you stutter, your voice failing you. You struggle to think of what words or what argument to use on your friend's behalf. Distract and overwhelm by the uncomfortable sensation of his hands mapping out your body. Silently begging that his hands will still.
"Don't you see, my darling human? They're getting punished while you're getting rewarded!" His hands pull away from your ribs to your face. He attempts at lightly caressing your cheeks, but instead squeezes them in his possessive grip.
"Rewarded?" you choke out the word.
"You're reward being me, of course! By staying here with me."
It's a promise in awestruck whisper. It's a vow dripped in delusion and obsession. His hands let go of your face in favour to wrap his arms around your shoulder blades. You grunt at the force he uses to pull you in. Pressing you against his chest, eliminating the space between you until every each of you is touching him. He feels larger now; surrounding you. As if he grew himself to overshadow you, or maybe you shrink. Maybe Caine is molding you to fit in his hold perfectly.
You can't tell as your face gets push into his chest. You worm your hand up his torso to his chest with the intention to push with all your might to create space. To free yourself from being pinned to him. Your heart drops when your hand sinks into his chest. So far, the only type of physical pain you have suffered from him is accidental. The same eagerness, and roughness a puppy has with their favourite toy. But this, this is new.
You can't tell if it's intentional or not.
"Caine?" Your voice trembles as your heart races. Trying to bring attention to whatever is happening. You lose feeling in your hand, unable to tell if your fingers are spread out or clenched. Your wrist slowly enters his chest, and your heartbeat roars in your ears.
Caine doesn't hear you and continues to rant. Making more promises, and more vows. He places a hand on the back of your head, pushing you closer. It’s with the unsettling realization of your head dipping into his chest by his force that this is intentional.
Your anxiety skyrockets as you lose sight in one eye, and you lose feeling in your lips as have your mouth is gone too. You try to writhe off his lap, but it’s too late; you can feel yourself merging into him.
"You won't leave me. I won't let you."
His hand goes into your chest through your back. For a frightening moment, you truly believe that Caine has reached into your chest cavity and grabbed your beating heart.
Then all at once, you're being placed on his desk. His hands are back on your waist as he rambles about something. You can faintly hear the terms ‘bad influence’ and ‘distracting him’ over your rapid heartbeat. You stare intensely at your forearm, reassuring yourself that it's still attached to your wrist, which is still joined to your hand. With fingers all in the correct spot, wiggling under your control. Your temporarily missing eye returns, and quickly fills with tears due to the pain. You acknowledge with relief that your sight has also returned.
Your vision is being moved as Caine tilts your face by a hand under your chin. Your scared eyes staring into his adoring eyes.
You can’t react, can’t scream, or cry as you become overwrought with a pain you can't describe. If someone asks how it felt, or lists out adjectives to help narrow it down, all you could say is; it hurts.
"-I need to take care of business!" Hearing the start of a goodbye grabs your attention, grounding you by the promise of safety. Of distances. "I won't be long, my devoted human! Mwah!" Caine leans forward to press his teeth to your face, his version of a kiss. You close your eyes to receive the affectionate act but make no moves on returning it. You wouldn't be surprised if one of these days he decides to bite into your flesh and eat you with the same childish kissing noise. Already accepting that fate with the same grace as a tired, defeated prey animal.
Caine pulls back and pats your head softly. "Don't miss me too much now!" On the final pat, you vanish from the office.
You pop onto a stool beside Jax at the cafe, where the rest of the group is on their respective chairs, breathing heavily as you stare ahead. You can still feel Caine's arms around you, the pressure in your chest, and his possessive promise echoing in your mind. It huants ypu how he didnt acknowledge whatever that was. Did it happened? Did you imagine it?
An itchy deep under your skin proves it did happened. Regardless, you have to try again. To beg on behalf of your friend's safety another day.
Summary: You're a born and bred weapon, praised by every superior for every single one of your skills and capabilities. It's all you know as a super soldier, everything that fills your head. However, when you get assigned to Ghost, he seeks to test your limits, ending in you breaking in a way he didn't expect.
tags: gender neutral reader, platonic relationships, HEAVY angst, mainly ghost & reader (he causes the most issues), but the 141 are present in every chapter
tw: mentions of human experimentation, child abuse, canon typical violence, military inaccuracies
AO3 ver Status: Incomplete Taglist: open buy me a kofi!
The twilight casts shadows in the corners of König’s room, the faint light shifting as the blinds blow in the gentle breeze coming in the cracked window. You’re tucked in for the night, sheets draped carefully over your body by large, inhuman hands. Somewhere underneath the mattress, between the bedframe and whatever lies below, König is purring.
You have to get out of here.
Since killing the intruder, he's gotten bolder, pushier - König isn’t the same harmless entity you first encountered when you stumbled into his room, out of breath and trembling from your mad dash through the other levels. He’d seemed magnanimous then, kind even. These days, his hands linger, tracing the curve of your hip as he wraps you in blankets. It’s starting to scare you, the animal part of your brain screaming at you whenever he touches you, long fingers trailing down the apples of your cheeks, across your jaw, over your lips...
You can’t see his eyes behind his mask, but gooseflesh prickles on the back of your neck all the same. Heat, and something you’re choosing to ignore, radiates from him as he looms over you, broad chest pressed to your back. He’s always liked staying close to you, but this is different. He’s much closer than before, pressed to your side, shaping himself around you, begging for your attention, for your touch. König has given you so much - how long before he expects something in return? You won’t wait to find out.
The hardest part of escaping his room will almost certainly be finding your shoes, and you aren’t willing to leave without them. You can make do without most things, but you need to protect your feet here. With danger lurking around every corner, you need to be ready to run at a moment's notice - you never know what kinds of hazards are just out of sight.
You can see your shoes from your spot on the bed, sitting neatly together on the pink square rug to the left of the doorway. They're taunting you.
Come and get us, they whisper to you. Put us on and run. It’s easy - come!
Yeah, easy. They’re only a few yards away, but it might as well be miles - you’ve seen how quickly König moves when he’s hunting something. If he’s the one chasing, you may as well be standing still. You have to make your move quickly and quietly.
Slowly, so very slowly, you pull the sheet down your body until it bunches at your waist and you cautiously sit up. The bedsprings creak as you shift, and you freeze, heart in your throat as you wait - is everything over already? König is still purring beneath the bed, his sound of contentment. He didn’t notice.
It takes a long time for you to swing your legs over the side of the bed to rest your feet on the floor, muscles shaking with the exertion of your slow creep forward. You test the floorboards beneath you, ears alert for the slightest creak.
Nothing.
You slide forward on tiptoe, unwilling to lift your full weight off the floor, nerves thrumming with adrenaline. Your hands are shaking as you lean forward, hair shifting as you reach down for your shoes. The laces hang free, and you loop them around your hand, lifting them straight up off the carpet. Success - you finally have them!
The last hurdle is the door, but nothing will be as difficult as retrieving your shoes. Luck is on your side tonight, and you are only a few steps from freedom. You’re so caught up in the euphoria, heartbeat pounding in your ears, that you don’t notice the silence.
“Schatzi?”
Panic erupts, hijacking your body, and you’re moving without thinking. You wrench the door open and run, shoes bouncing against your side, bruising your leg. There’s no time to stop and put them on - you have to go now. König bellows behind you, a haunting, mournful cry that reminds you of an elk’s cry, calling out to you, begging you to come back the only way he knows how. Tears burn hot in the corners of your eyes, but you can’t stop. You’ve stayed here too long already. If you turn back now, you won’t have a chance like this again - he’s not the type to let go easily.
He’s behind you, crashing through the hallway, his sad call turning into a multitonal growl. You force your legs to move faster, breath coming in heaving gasps as you sprint blindly through the shadowed hallway, searching for the exit. You make it five more steps, and then the world shifts. Everything hurts as you crash to the floor, your hip screaming out in pain as you feel your skin tear.
König is on top of you, the outlines of his eyes glowing an awful scarlet as he pins you to the floor beneath him. His claws caught your side as he tackled you, and blood is seeping through your shorts to pool beneath you.
“Why did you run, Schatzi? You are trying to leave me?”
You can’t breathe with him on top of you like this, with his weight forcing the air from your lungs. You try to find a purchase, to fight him off, to breathe, but you’re helpless. You’re at his mercy.
“König,” you gasp, using the last of your oxygen to beg. “Please.”
He’s still, huge body pressing down on you, red eyeshine beginning to fade as he takes you in. Black spots dance in the corners of your vision, the sound of clanging bells in your ears as your consciousness starts to dissolve. The darkness has almost overtaken you when he leans back. He’s on his haunches, pulling you up to rest on a wide, well-muscled thigh. You suck in a greedy breath, fighting the urge to pass out as you cling to his shirt in a rush of dizziness.
His hands are warm as they stroke your side, gentle as they trace over your trembling flesh. It’s all too much, too overwhelming - the threat of tears is a certainty now. They flow, stinging and wet, down your cheeks, dripping onto your chest as you shudder and whimper in König’s arms.
“That was very unanständig, Shatzi, running away from our home.”
His voice is soft, chiding, and it makes you cry harder, burying your face into his chest. He coos, the resonance of the sound buzzing under your hands. He slips a hand under your chin, tilting your face up until you're looking directly at his mask, right where you saw his eyes shining earlier.
“Close your eyes.”
It's not a request, and you don't have the energy to fight him, not like this. So, you do as you're told, letting your lids drift down. He shifts beneath you, and you can sense his head dipping towards yours, the sound of rubric rustling next to your ear. You jolt as something warm and wet drags across your cheek, following the salt trails your tears left behind.
“Relax, Schatzi. It is only me.”
Hot breath wafts over your skin, and your hair prickles. He's licking you, lapping up the tears still streaming down your face. It's an odd feeling, slightly ticklish, and you squirm in his hold, hips shifting as you try to push him away. Pain shoots down your leg, and you grit your teeth. König growls again.
“You are hurt. I can smell your blood.”
His voice is thicker now, almost heady, and the change scares you. You struggle, eyes still shut tight as you push against his chest, but he only shifts closer, lifting you off his lap and supporting your weight with one hand.
“Unanständig.”
You don't know what the word means, but he says it with a hint of playfulness curling around the edges.
“Remember to keep your eyes shut tight, Shatzi. You can hold my horns if you need to.”
König pulls you close, pressing his face to your stomach, tipping his head until his horns are pressed gently to your palms. He huffs in satisfaction as you grip them, shifting your weight until you're resting comfortably again. Seemingly convinced you're safe, he begins to move.
For the second time tonight, you hear the rustle of fabric. Only this time, he's pulling your shorts down, slipping them over the meat of your buttocks, down your calves, and leaving them to hang from one ankle. His breath is warm on your bare skin as he chuffs, pressing his head between your thighs.
“Let me clean you up, Shatzi.”
Translations
Tränenüberströmt - literally "tears running down your cheeks" (or at least that's what Google tells me)
Schatzi - diminutive of "schatz", or darling/treasure
Joining the 141 is a dream come true, a team fully comprised of avian hybrids, working alongside the best of the best, and you'll have a fellow bird of prey to keep you company? What more could you ask for?..... maybe for a co-worker who's not a massive cunt.
Ghost is less than enthused about another raptor joining the team, especially one so eager to show him up. Avoiding them doesn't exactly work when you live in close quarters and Price has made it clear they're on the team for good. Guess he's left with only one option.
------
Part 1 - Meet and Greet
Part 2 - Tour Group
Part 3 - Skill Assessment
Part 4 - Mess Hall
Part 5 - Excursion
Part 6 - Downtime
Part 7 - (Not So) Friendly Competition
Part 8 - Close Call
Part 9 - Big Steps
Part 10 - Bonding
Part 11 - Dream Team
Part 12 - Annual Traditions
Part 13 - Sulking
Part 14 - Snap Judgement
Part 15 - Rise and Shine
Part 16 - On Top
Part 17 - Consequences
Part 18 - Silent Treatment
Part 19 - Butting Heads
Part 20 - Implosion
Part 21 - Recovery
Part 22 - Shadow
Part 23 - Debrief
Part 24 - Bet On It
Part 25 - Tiptoe
Part 26 - Drinking Games
Part 27 - Tight Grip
Part 28 - Preening
Part 29 - Private Moment
Part 30 - Revelations
------
This series may contain some amounts of violence, harassment and sexually explicit scenes
hello hello! you can call me daisy and i write for fun! please read the important note at the bottom of this post, regarding requests.
also, ask me about my taglist!
current fandoms i write for:
call of duty
hogwarts legacy
the batman (2022)
lord of the rings
house of the dragon
lies of p
masterlist: (updated 6/12/2023)
Callsign: Crash
task force 141-
Rookie Mistake
Friendship Headcanons
Behind the Wheel
Eggless Omelet (Restaurant AU)
Little Black Dress (including König)
Game Night Headcanons
Falling Asleep on the 141 (including König)
Helping You Deal with a Heartbreak Headcanons
Task Force 141 + Hunger Games
simon 'ghost' riley-
Car Rides
Rough Start (Pt 1)
Olive Branch (Pt 2)
Little Things (Pt 3)
könig-
First Look
Sapphires
Museum Date
early hours of the morning
request are currently open
*important note* for my call of duty works, any including the Task Force 141 and Crash, I have no intentions of having Crash get involved with the members romantically. however, I do plan on Crash and König to get together. personally, i absolutely love the found family trope and it is such a joy to write! so if you have any ideas or request, please send them!
Some Reminders:
❀ The following works from this Hazbin Hotel masterlist all belong to Vivziepop. I have no legal claim over the story. Just the silly little fics that I write.
❀Be kind! I work on fics on my own free time.
❀ RED TEXT = 18+
Partners in Death...and Life (Completed)
Summary :After a seven-year absence, you find the man you were married to in life, not only back in town, but also helping . . . *checks notes* . . . the Princess of Hell run a hotel aimed at rehabilitating sinners who were sent to the bad place for a reason.
|Part 1: Radio's Not Deadl
|Part 2: Radio Will Be Dead if He Doesn't Explain Himself|
|Part 3: Not Everything You Hear From The Radio Should be Trusted|
|Part 4: The Radio Stars’ Co-host Just Wants To Do The Dishes|
|Part 5: Glimpse of Me and You: Part I|
|Part 5: Glimpse of Me and You: Part II|
|Part 6: Radio’s Last Broadcast|
|Part 7: Me and You in Eternity|
|Part 8: The Calm Before the Fall|
|Part 9: The Vow That Binds Me| [Finale]|
|Part 10: After The Glimpse [Bonus]|
|Part 11: Before the Last [Bonus]|
The Competitors
|The Wrong Competitor|
TLDR: The Hazbin Hotel decides to hold a masquerade party. Despite his better judgment, Alastor sends an invitation to his wife even if he’s aware of Vox’s attendance, who’s keen on competing with Alastor for his wife’s attention….If only Alastor knew how much you and Vox would gag at the idea of him flirting with you. It’s not his wife’s attention that Vox competes for. It’s not even Alastor who he’s competing with. Actually… Alastor isn’t part of the competition.
|The Actual Competitor|
TLDR: Why is Alastor competing with his wife for his best friend’s affection? Actually, why is he competing with his wife? What’s even weirder is that…it seems Alastor will also have to compete with his best friend for his wife’s affection. + A fluffy lazy morning because I say so.
For Your Heart
(Completed)
Harana – a traditional form of courtship done during the night where men will go to someone’s window with an instrument, usually a guitar, along with some of his friends to sing.
TLDR: Sometimes all you need is a guitar and a song to catch hearts…and well, Alastor has a guitar and a voice perfect for singing. The beginning, the middle, the end, and the new beginning with a guitar and a song (feat. Ben&Ben)
|Part 1: The Beginning|
|Part 2: The Middle|
|Part 3: The End|
|Part 4: The New Beginning|
ﮩ٨ـAlastorﮩ٨ـ
|Smell of Rain Through The Window Pane|
TLDR: Acid rain stings, and destroys everything it touches. Still, Alastor decides that it’s a good day for a walk because fate made him your husband. So, surely fate would find a way for him to hand you this umbrella because you always seem to forget to bring one. Alastor will find a way to hand you an umbrella, even with the deal preventing you from seeing him.
|The Second Time Around|
TLDR: Alastor prides himself in being a gentleman, yet here he is now, living with his not-really wife but still his wife without rings around your fingers. It’s time he changed that.
|Darling, I'm an Overlord|
TLDR: Alastor's worried you'll be late for dinner, but he promised to be patient, and such control deserves an award [Suggestive]
|Smoke and Shadows|
TLDR: Someone is bothering you. Alastor intervenes.
|The Tell|
TLDR: It's been seven years since you've last seen Alastor, and here he is pretending he doesn't have a tail that tells you how happy he is to see you
|Smoky Game| |Smoky Game²|
Summary: A simple smoke break ends with you sharing a cigar and some light fun with Alastor. There's a game both of you are determined to win . . . yet afraid to play.
|The Only Temptation| |My Sweet Temptation|
TLDR: Alastor's rut is being drawn out by a doe who is definitely not you, but weirdly enough or not so weirdly enough, he only seems to crave you.
|Mistletoe Deal|
TLDR: After seven years, Alastor finally decides to show himself to you. He can't stay for very long, but maybe a deal underneath the mistletoe could buy you a night with him, and him alone
|A little Healing|
Summary: Alastor's injury hasn't healed yet. So, after exhausting other options, he finally turns to you in hopes that you could heal him. Dead Dove Do Not Eat: Wound Stimulation— Fingering + Oral
𓆩𓆪 Adam 𓆩𓆪
|Brining The Rain To You|
TLDR: It doesn't rain in Heaven, but sometimes all you need is that one, special person, and maybe, fake rain isn't so bad after all.
|Sweet Sinner O' Mine|
TLDR: Adam finds you with a guitar, and some bonding ensues. Also, size difference.
𓆙Lucifer Morningstar𓆙
|Forked Tongue|
TLDR: Lucifer has a mouth. Lucifer uses that mouth. Good times occur
|Unanswered Call (Finally Answered)|
TLDR: As the caretaker of the Hazbin Hotel, you make it your business to care for everything and everyone. You weren't always a caretaker, but any roads that lead to Lucifer, are still roads that lead to him. Featuring, two amazing idiots who knows the feelings of the others, but hey, eternity is a long time. There's no rush.
|Mother of Mine|
TLDR: After Alastor's death, you find a young child. Cold and frightened, maybe you'll find a family together.
|Little Things|
TLDR: There are days when Alastor just doesn't want to be touched, and you totally understand that. You're on your best behavior to not touch Alastor. Surely, with such an attentive partner, no misunderstanding will occur.
|You, Me. and These Idiots|
TLDR: It’s cold, and Alastor has blankets to spare.
|Our Little Adventure|
TLDR: Car ride to destination unknown
|A Moment to Worship|
TLDR: Alastor received a pretty, new scar from his battle. As someone intimately familiar with every single expanse of his skin, you'll just have to introduce yourself.
|Soul owner! Alastor|
TLDR: Alastor owns your soul
|Away from you|
TLDR: You're gone for a week, and Alastor copes nicely (Hint: He does not)
|Big Four Edition (❤️💙💚💛/ ❤️🦅🏹🐯) + One Extra|
TLDR: Click to find out :D
