#dr stein x reader

[babydollmarie]

yes i like them blind 😜😜

[jupitereleven]

STEIN. SMASH. THATS IT.

[jazzmasternot]

Oh yeah I like my men fucked up and crazy. The more morally questionable the better. Like ughh men with a wicked smiles makes me forget my name.🥴

[sugarcomett]

uhm I just got into soul eater and why is stein so underrated??? I barely see any fics of him on here, and ao3 bro, treat my fine shyt better💔💔

[blackkatskauldron]

I am Happier (When I Hurt You) - Chapter 1 (Kinktober 2025)

On Ao3:

Summary: Victor Stein is a celebrated artist, best known for his work using human cadavers to create "living sculptures." A known Playboy, Vic has made a public persona of deviance and debauchery, hiding something even more twisted underneath. Perhaps hiding in the very sculptures he creates. Mary Shelley, PI, is determined to uncover Vic's secrets, especially after he humiliated her two years prior. But Mary's investigation throws the pair together in ways Mary refused to dream of, clouding her judgment. Will she be able to uncover Vic's secrets, or will she succumb to his desires? DISCLAIMER: I will be switching around the Ao3 official prompts to best suit the story I am trying to tell, and the prompts will be listed at the beginning of each chapter in the summary. Any mental illness depicted may or may not be accurate. I try my best to research symptoms, but I am not an expert and often base things on my own experiences. Stein is obviously a greatly whitewashed psychopath in the manga and will be depicted the same way here, as it is central to his character. He will be violent, possessive, and even cruel at times. If that bothers you, this is probably not a story you want to read. This will be a dark story, and as the author, I do not agree with all the things the characters do, say, or believe. Trigger warnings and kinks are in the tags on Ao3. You have been warned; read at your own risk.

And in mine eyes, thou art the purest perfection…

***

Condensation pooled off the whiskey glass and onto the paper napkin coaster atop the black granite bar top, its amber contents swirling with the large melting ice cubes the bartender had poured fresh liquor onto. Mary Shelley, private eye, perched atop the cracked leather barstool, a pile of manila folders spread out across the bar, and a well-chewed blue ballpoint pen cap between her teeth.

The light in La Petite Mort  – the bar Mary worked out of – was dim, but comforting. Her safe space, her place to brainstorm, to work. Her home away from home. The bar’s atmosphere was cozy, if not sensual, lending itself to lustful gazes and secret rendezvous, not a place for a private investigator to work out of. That was what she liked about it.

People lowered their inhibitions here. It was comfortable, it was sexy. Mary could read her clients better once they let their guard down. Their true intentions were more evident to her when they were relaxed. Mary never liked liars, and she especially hated being deceived by clients. So, she’d bring them here, make them comfortable, encourage them to drink  – or chat with her, if they did not partake in spirits – and they would spill all their secrets. All the pertinent details of their cases.

Then she would decide to accept them or not.

“Damn it,” she cursed, yanking the pen cap from between her teeth.

“You good?” the bartender asked, looking over her shoulder.

Brushing her hair back from her face, Mary stared down at the face in the folder in front of her. An old passport photo of a woman not much younger than she was.

Anthea Smythe.

She was a pretty girl, tall and slender, with a body that landed her a modeling job right out of high school. Her father, Mary’s client, was the CEO of an up-and-coming software company and had been very worried about his daughter, it seemed. When he wasn’t too busy staring at Mary’s tits, that was.

But that wasn’t what had made her curse, drawing the attention of the very young bartender behind the bar.

It was the paparazzi photo of Anthea with a man. A familiar, silver-haired man with dark, round glasses and a scarred face.

Vic Stein.

The infamous artist who had made international headlines with his controversial human sculptures. The man who had—

Mary shook her head.

Vic Stein’s human sculptures were not merely posed humans. No. Vic used real human cadavers in his art, individuals who had donated their bodies for scientific study. He had patented a technique that preserved the bodies by removing their water and fat contents and replacing them with compounds that didn’t break down as easily, effectively freezing his subjects in time. This made him very popular in scientific fields, but notorious in art circles, and practically infamous in religious ones.

An affront to God, some had called it. Others dubbed it genius.

But what no one seemed to notice was that pretty girls seemed to disappear around him. Not always permanently, but they would disappear off the face of the earth, then sometimes reappear as if nothing had happened, dazed and a little worse for wear. Sometimes a new sculpture would appear in one of Vic’s exhibits, always a surprise, and some of the girls never popped back up. Then there was the rumor that Vic’s ex-girlfriend – Melissa Gregory, another artist – had been turned into one of his sculptures at his most recent exhibit in the Smithsonian.

Mary had to give those rumors credit; the sculpture did seem proportionately correct for Melissa. However, there was no evidence to back up the tale, and Mellissa’s agent had even come forward to deny it. Apparently, she was taking time off to be with family, but she hadn’t made any public appearances since her breakup with Vic.

Mary wasn’t so sure Melissa was merely taking time off.

Not with what she knew about Vic.

“Hey,” the bartender, Patricia, called, slapping her hand against the granite.

Mary snapped her gaze to the girl, twisting a lock of hair between her fingers. Patricia was too young to be working behind the bar here, but she was friends with the bar’s co-owner’s son, and that came with perks.

“Cutting me off so soon?” Mary teased, swirling her diluted whiskey around in her glass.

A melancholy rock song crooned softly in the background, drowning out Patricia’s sigh of frustration. “No, but you’re scaring people away again, muttering to yourself. Can’t make any tips if you’re doing that.”

“My apologies,” Mary teased, tossing back her drink. “I’ll get out of your hair.”

Then she scooped up her files and hopped down from the counter as Patrica rolled her eyes.

“You know that ain’t what I meant,” Patricia grumbled, wiping down Mary’s vacated spot.

Patricia had a baby face and a puckish demeanor. A manic pixie dream girl in the flesh with her short blonde hair, expressive blue eyes, and whimsical style. But her sweet appearance was a front for an explosive temper. The regulars at the bar knew never to mess with her, and it was the only reason Mary hadn’t caused a stink about allowing her to work behind the bar at a few months shy of eighteen.

“Ta ta, kiddo,” Mary said, heading up to the second floor to her office.

Mr. Muerté, the co-owner of the bar along with Mary, was content with letting Mary occupy the large office upstairs for her work as a private detective. He had other business ventures to attend to, and since Mary more often than not slept in the office, he knew the bar was in good hands while he was away. It gave him a piece of mind knowing she was there to look out for his son and his friends.

Though the office was large, it was sparsely furnished. Large filing cabinets lined the walls along with three overflowing bookshelves. An antique Chippendale desk sat in front of the room’s only window with an overstuffed leather chair for her behind it. A small but nice set of leather chairs sat in front of the desk for clients, though they were rarely used as Mary liked to conduct business downstairs in the bar when possible. Finally, there was an old couch tucked into the back of the room for her to sleep on when she was too tired to go home. A worn brown crochet afghan sat folded over the back of the couch, and several pillows were stacked at one end of the couch. She slept there more often than she did at her small apartment a few blocks away. And this place had better showers.

At least it was kept clean. Patricia’s sister, Elizabeth, cleaned the room along the rest of the building instead of serving customers because she had proven too temperamental to deal with them behind the bar. Being more temperamental than Patrica was a feat in and of itself, but Mary appreciated not having to dust.

Sighing, she unlocked the filing cabinet with the key hanging from a chain around her neck and grabbed a few manila folders before locking the cabinet again. She pulled a brown leather satchel from the closet, shoving the folders inside before buckling the worn straps and slinging it over her shoulders. Anthea Smyth’s case, according to her father, was going cold. No one could find her, so he had sought out Mary.

Mary just so happened to be an expert at finding people.

“Hey,” she called to Patricia on her way past the bar. “I’ll give you fifty bucks if you do some cyber stalking on these two for me. Last places seen publicly together, any public appearances after, social media activity, hidden accounts. You know the drill.”

Patricia flipped through the folders, her brow furrowing. “Make it eighty. This guy is trouble.”

“Sixty-five,” Mary shot over her shoulder.

“Deal! He kill the girl?”

“Not sure yet.”

Her hand hit the antique crystal doorknob, and the bells on the door jangled violently. Cool evening air blasted into the bar, filling Mary’s lungs and clearing her head somewhat.

“Be safe,” Elizabeth said to her left.

Turning, Mary saw the girl leaning against the aging brick exterior of the bar, smoking a cigarette. Her long, sandy blonde hair was pulled back tightly in a braid, and her white t-shirt was a few sizes too small, leaving her midriff exposed, her low-rise, baggy jeans revealing the small tattoo of a skull she had on her left hip-bone. The logo for La Petite Morte.

“You’re too young to be smoking.” Mary plucked the cigarette from the girl’s hand and stomped it out on the concrete.

“Be safe,” Elizabeth repeated, pulling another cigarette from the carton rolled in her sleeve and lighting it. “Don’t forget what happened the last time you went looking for one of Vic’s girls.”

Mary rolled her eyes, ignoring Elizabeth’s warning. “When am I not?”

***

Continue reading on Ao3!

[jackingjester42]

hey could you write about a Black☆Star x M!reader who is Stein's son and the reader thinks he's a magical girl, fluff pls

Double Trouble

M!Reader

Tw: I love Dr Stein, but he's a tw on his own

Genre: fluff

Pairing: Black☆Star x M!Reader

Summary: What fun will you find after pairing a ninja and a magic girl(boy)?

Author's note: I hope I won't fuck this up like a lot of authors do to their mlm works lol. Anyway, I really liked this request, sorry it took so long to write it, my bad😭 this is mainly BlackStar x m!reader (obviously) and subtle Stein x f!reader², but more like a queer relationship, rather than a normal one, since both are aroace in my head. So, I hope you like this, and more under cut.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

✦ Nobody knows how or why Stein got himself a son, but no one asks about it, settling with the thought that this is his new experiment.

✦ His very close accomplice, though, doesn't settle with that thought, worried that Stein finally has gone totally bonkers and is taking the Medusa path

✦ This way they learn that Stein did this because of a bet with Speed.

✦ Speed said that Stein wouldn't be able to raise a kid himself, if it came down to it

✦ They decided to help him with his now son, since this is always how it's been, if one of them is doing something, the other will join them

✦ So, years pass, they raise this little guy and he seems to forever like everything magical

✦ They take of this, making sure this little rascal is happy and growing into a proper adult while still nurturing and not shutting down his creativity and love for magical girls

✦ When the time comes, this guy — the reader — is sent to the academy to study

✦ it doesn't really matter, for, the story if the reader is Meister or weapon

✦ in the academy, reader meets BlackStar, a very energetic boy that makes reader feel nervous, but in a good way

✦ you both spend time together, just the two of you, or the entire group together

✦ sometimes his energy gets to you and you act very similar to him, like proclaiming loudly how good of a magical girl(boy) you are

✦ being so much with BlackStar or around him means that Tsubaki is nearby and you just became friends with her automatically

✦ Older sister is a better term, for how you see her

✦ At some point, BlackStar talks with Tsubaki about you and how he feels about you

✦ This may happen if something happened to you, or of somebody tried to flirt with you

✦ He would be saying things like "I don't want him to be with someone else" and "Those people don't know him like I do, why do they think they can take my place with him?"

✦ And Tsubaki doesn't know if she should tell him or not

✦ She does.

✦ And one thing leads to another and now you two are together, like fr.

✦ You're freaking out

✦ But this couldn't be better

✦ After some time, you decide that BlackStar should meet with Dr Stein and Auncle Tea

✦ He's like "hell yeah"

✦ meeting the people who raised you is just making you two even closer

✦ It's just that, uh, before he arrived, he wouldn't expect Dr Stein to be your father

✦ His teacher. The one that is kind of crazy.

✦Yeah, he tried to act calm, but it was obvious that he was caught off guard

✦ Dr Stein was surprised that THAT guy was your choice, but says that it's fine as long as you're happy

✦ Overall, both accept each other, even if it's not as is easy as other would think.

✦ Star doesn't change much as a boyfriend, yes, he is more vocal and open, but he's still as energetic and social as ever

✦ Everyone already knows about you and what you like, which is your favorite magic girl, your favorite color, etc

✦ Tsubaki also gets closer to you, but she still acts like an older sister to you

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

I wrote this on my way yo get my passport lol I hope you liked it, I'm sorry it's so short and sorry if you didn't like the inclusion of second reader 😭 sometimes I used "they" by default when referring to reader and then had to change it lol Anyway, I hope you liked it, take care of yourself and bye bye!! 💮

[mytheoristavenue]

Day 3 -

SE Franken Stein x Reader - Winter Proposal

Summary: Stein thanks you for staying by his side during the spread of Madness by offering to stay by your side permanently.

Warnings: Fluff, grammatical errors, mentions of poor mental health

Your body shuddered, trudging through ankle-deep snow, alone in the woods. Stein had invited you to his residence for what he called a 'test grading date'. He'd add that word to the back of anything he knew you'd be reluctant to take him up on. He knew how you felt for him, and he knew exactly how to get his way. You knew as well as he did, that in reality, he just wanted you to grade his class' tests in his stead, in exchange for coffee and company.

"Glad you could make it," he smiled warmly, standing in front of his home, about fifty feet away from you.

"Oh, stuff it, Stein," you huffed, stomping towards him. "You know it's like zero degrees out here? And you're making me walk in the snow, you should be ashamed!"

"It's actually fifteen degrees," he corrected with a chuckle. "But, really. Thank you for coming all this way."

"Yeah, yeah," you dismissed, now close to passing him by on the way to the door. "Let's get inside before I freeze to death."

To your surprise, Stein caught you by the wrist, pulling you back. "Not so fast," He skillfully spun you back to him, pulling you closer. "Did you really think I'd make you walk all the way here just to grade papers?"

"Well, yeah..." you swallowed, trying to conceal a blush. "That's totally something you would do."

"Maybe the old me, but I've changed," he replied, a content smile playing on his lips. "For the better, I hope."

"Yeah," you scoffed, rolling your eyes a bit. "I'm sure you feel loads better now that you're not being poisoned."

"I'm serious," he said sternly. "I feel like a new person, and it's all thanks to you."

You could no longer hide your red cheeks as more and more blood rushed to your face. "S-Stein, what are you talking about?"

Cold hands sunk down to the small of your back, pinning you against him as olive eyes bore into you. "Even at my worst, you were there," he praised, tilting his head to the side. "You never gave up on me, no matter how dangerous loving me became. You worked tirelessly to help me, with no reward. I can't thank you enough for that."

Kind, encouraging words from Stein were few and far between, so you'd never gotten accustomed to hearing them, and needless to say, it filled your tummy with butterflies. "T-That's what friends do, right? You'd do the same for me."

"You're not just my friend, (Y/N), you're my biggest support. And...if you'd have me, even after all the times I took your love for granted, I'd like to make you my wife..." From the corner of your eye, you could see him reach into his coat pocket and fish something out. "I can't offer you diamonds or precious metals, but hopefully this," he confessed, raising a hand-crafted steel ring. "Would be enough, for now, at least."

"Oh, Stein..." you breathed, totally speechless. "D-Did you make this yourself?"

"I did," he laughed. "Which is why it looks the way that it does, I'm a doctor, not a jeweler. It's made from repourosed surgical steel, so it's body safe, at least."

You couldn't help but giggle as tears streamed down your face. Looking it over, you could tell it was made terribly, beads of weld speckling it and the silhouette misshapen, but it looked just like Stein did- patched together.

"Should I take your laughter as a no?" he chuckled cooly, still holding you.

You jumped against him in response, needing to be infinitely closer. "Of course, I'll marry you, Franken!" you sobbed, nuzzling his throat. "And the ring is beautiful, I love it."

"That's a relief," he smiled gently, hugging you tightly. "I was almost nervous there."

"I could never reject you, Stein, you know that."

"I do," he agreed, before cracking a grin. "Now, Mrs. Stein, would you do the honor of grading my kids' tests while I make some coffee?"

Taglist:

@usopps-devotee

[desperatelittledemon]

Hai— I see you...Write for soul eater...👀 Would you be willing to write some hcs for dr Stein? Maybe just some fluff hcs? If you don’t wanna it’s completely fine! Have a nice day!

oh you poor naive fool…you have unleashed a force of which you have no knowledge of…pitiful mortals (jk i love you thank you for letting me fangirl about my mans)

Dr.Stein Fluff HC’s

- oh good lord this m a n 

- first off he’s lowkey shit at any kind of domestic work so you either have to do it yourself or lovingly teach him (which might take a while)

- doesn’t mean we won’t thank you for it tho 

- he’s a sorta gentleman

- he’s also a workaholic sooooo

- he gets distracted by his work so much so that he can forget to eat ans sleep

- just lovingly pet his head and kiss his neck when he’s hunched over his work and y’all are gucci

- he goes to bed rather late so you either stay up for him to come to bed and suffer in the morning or fall asleep first

- both options end in cuddling so eh it’s not that bad

- have i mentioned he’s husband material-

- may or may not leave out subtle little hints about how great you are to his students 

- loses his shit if you’re ever hurt

- seriously poor Spirit has his work cut out for him when Stein is pissed so-

- also you’re each others impulse control

- always reel each other back with a little “honey..no”

- he’s lowkey highkey whipped

- you are one lucky bitch 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

requests are: open!

my rules: https://desperatelittledemon.tumblr.com/post/188638803618/updated-rules

i am open to: bnha, demon slayer/kny, dr. stone and soul eater (cause it’s fandom is dead as fuck and i plan to bring it back) !