Curate, connect, and discover
note: I do not claim any of these hcs as fully my idea, some of these are inspired from another characters, fanfictions etc! also this can be OOC.
English is not my native languange, there can be grammar or word mistakes. Feel free to fix my mistakes on comments⠀⠀ᝰ.ᐟ
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀﹒﹒ 𖨂🏵️ ❛ I mostly imagine his immortality like just being immortal, not being able to heal himself. he only regenerates when hes ACTUALLY dead, this hc is mostly for angst drama shit and its so fun for no reason too. Also he mostly goes to Castorice when his injuries are bit too much to handle, he personally enjoys the purity and peace castorice's ability gives to him too.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀﹒﹒ 𖨂🥮 ❛ he mostly takes his mother as a rolemodel, he likes to read books about her and does research about her in his free time. also people thinks hes a bookworm because of he spending a lot time in libraries, but actually hes not good at writing and reading due to his lack of education.
@youngsweetscloud
Thinking about Sanemi who is the king of consent and check-ins.
He grew up seeing his father treat his mother less than kindly and despises men who treat women in a similar way. So it doesn’t matter whether he’s been pounding into you for the last half an hour, calling you every derogatory name under the sun (with your prior permission) — if he changes in pace or position, he’s making you meet his eyes to check-in.
“Listen to that,” he pants, the hand he’s had gripped in your hair pressing your head down harder into the mattress. “Your pussy is so fuckin’ sloppy. You like when I fuck you like a whore?”
Your answering moan and the way your thighs somehow spread wider made Sanemi chuckle, the sound rich and dark in a way that made you all the wetter. “Yeah, you do, don’t you?”
Your whines were cut off in a choked gasp as Sanemi’s arms wound around your shoulders and tugged you up until he was laying flat against the bed, your back pressed against his front. Shifting, Sanemi grips the back of your knees and hauls your legs into the air, suspending them and keeping them spread wide for him. Somehow, he still has the dexterity to reach for your jaw with his fingers to tilt your head back against his chest.
“Hey,” his voice is throaty and rough with desire. Blearily, you open your eyes to meet his, and Sanemi smirks slightly at the fucked-out expression in your glassy eyes.
“You okay?” There’s a gentle seriousness in his tone, and you know that the second you were to shake your head or voice any discomfort, he would stop, and he’d bend over backwards to care for you in whatever way you’d need.
It’s that thought, coupled with the hot friction growing ever more pronounced between your legs as Sanemi holds perfectly still inside you, that has you nodding desperately, eager to have him thrusting his cock in and out of your walls with such vigor that you forget your name.
Sanemi’s answering smirk is soft in a way that you know his hips are about not to be. “That’s my girl,” he chuckles, and he relishes the strangled moan that tears from your throat as he gives a sharp thrust up, his balls slapping against your over-stimulated clit.
“You’re such a good little whore for me, aren’t you?”
Death never brought itself onto her, but she noted how it always felt like a distant memory.
Maybe she had died once before—death at the hands of an executioner for her vile felonies that she was lucky to have only been imprisoned for, or at the hands of her own, the rich heiress with a family heirloom using her breast as a sheath she had buried there. Maybe, once, she’d seen death, seen his skeletal hands and his shrouded face and the infamous scythe to steal her soul and escort her onto the next host body as if she were a parasite. The baby she’d inhabit until death, when she was reunited with what would feel like her one and only true love, the only love she’d ever really know as she continued to cycle back to him and be in his arms once again.
Or maybe she was a new soul. A soul fresh from the womb of her mother, a fire forged and made to burn hot until the day she fizzled out into the cold hands of the being she’d like to envision as friendly and be forever trapped in the abyss of nothing, wandering in a place that certainly wasn’t Hell but did not match the stories of Heaven with the gates or whatever God or gods there were or the familiar faces of family and friends long since passed.
‘where lucia died’ tagslist: @theforgottencoolkid @vandorens @whorizcn @alicekaiba @evergrcen @goldbonne @babeineauxs @the-writers-blocks @suswriting @lucamused @noloumna @shezadis @semblanche @emdrabbles @sapphospouse @waterfallofinkandpages @calfromzeroday @andinbetweenwegarden @aphteavanawrites @bbabyapollo @hillelf @milkyway-writes @the-introvert-cafe | ask to be added/removed
A/N, not important: Any criticism is welcome, constructive or not. This is supposed to be a gender neutral reader, so if I screwed up somewhere, please tell me.
-Ollie
CW: Apocalypse, kidnapping, freezing, dark themes, yandere themes.
Words: 1291
Summary: Donnie cuts off the heat
Winters were always frigid in the apocalypse, the broken terrain and weather making the places that have never seen a snowflake now completely frozen over. The “snow” that covered the barren wasteland outside the base’s doors was a poisonous brown, bubbling when it touched the ground instead of sticking. It may be frozen, but it was nothing like the fluffy white snow you held dear in your memories. You shiver under the blankets you were given, your body curled up in a weak attempt to preserve the heat trapped under the blankets with you. You were exhausted, sleep pulling at your eyes and trying to coax you under, but the cold biting at your fingers and toes was unrelenting. Your ears and nose burned, keeping you alert as you try to keep out the frigid air. The small amount of heat Donnie allowed in his lab was gone, the furnace broken and vents turned off. Cold had seeped into every crack and was now trying its best to choke you out as well.
You turn your head towards Donnie as he types onto a monitor projected by his ninpo, sticking your face into the bitter cold. His outfit amazed you, the mutant only being dressed in a thin sweater made to stretch over his battle shell and sweats that were a size too small. You look at him in envy, not understanding how he could withstand the freezing temperature in the thin clothing he had. Donnie turns his head at the feeling of your boring gaze, his eyes meeting yours and his tridactyl hands leaving his keyboard which causes it to falter, then disappear. For the first time in the months since he had stuck you in his lab in claims of protecting you, you don’t break your gaze. Whether it was from exhaustion or the cold, you no longer cared about such a simple thing as keeping your eyes off the man you hated most. If he was truly upset with your staring, he could come and close your eyes himself.
“You’re shivering.” Donnie muses, his voice teasing and airy as if the frostbite creeping over your nose was a mere tasteless joke. You scowl, burying yourself back into the plethora of blankets that covered the cot Donnie had you share with him. You hear him chuckle at your childish display, driving in the belittled feeling he had sunk into your heart.
“Fix the heat then.” You grumble at your captor, not caring for niceties. You can hear his chair shift and you look back at him through a crack in the blankets, seeing his eyes averted downwards as he chews on his cheek. His knuckles are now digging into his teeth, his eyes looking everywhere but you as he seems to be debating himself over something. His shoulders are more hunched, like he was a little kid who got caught stealing cookies late at night.
“You know I can’t.” Donnie says, like he was trying to be firm but his voice falters. He still refuses to meet your eyes, only staring at the floor as he chews on his knuckles. Your eyes narrow, your knees pulled closer to your chest as another cold burst breaks through the blanket barrier.
“You’ve already fixed it.” You accuse, the chattering of your teeth breaking up the sentence and making it sound more pathetic than you hoped. Donnie finally pulls his fist away from his mouth as he stares back at you, crossing his arms and protesting with a loud, “indignant scoff.” If you could feel your feet, you would run over there and strangle him.
“If you’re cold,” Donnie starts, his voice tight as he dodges your accusation to try and quell your thoughts, but ends up confirming it instead. “You can grab a blanket and come sit with me. I’ll keep you warm.”
You sneer, diving back under the blanket den you had created around yourself. Even if you wanted to cuddle up to the person who was holding you hostage in the name of ‘safety’, you couldn’t. Your feet were so frozen you couldn’t feel them more than a dull pain, and your fingers couldn’t close around the thin material of the blankets anymore. Silence stretches through the lab, and you’re sure Donnie had given up and turned back around.
A quick padding of socked feet breaks the silence and two arms wrap around your covered self, lifting you from the cot and into Donnie’s arms. He mumbles a swift apology as you flail and curse, quickly moving back to his chair and depositing you in his lap. He shifts the blankets around, helping you pop your head out so you could see. Donnie cups your cheek with one hand, the other still firm around your lower back so you couldn’t squirm away from him and escape. The feeling of his hand on your face is one you always hated, but the burning head of his warmth makes you hiss in pain rather than disgust. He was an oven, his hand slowly heating your cheeks and bringing color back to your face. You melt into him after a minute, nearly crying when his warm hand leaves your cheek to cup your ears.
“You are cold.” He mutters, mostly to himself. He continues to try and warm you himself for a small while, attempting to bring your body temperature up from the dangerous levels it had fallen to. He eventually signs and gives up, summoning a projected screen with numerous switches and buttons. He clicks a few things before closing the screen and pulling you closer, easing open the blankets you clung to so he could pull your whole body against him and try to warm you up.
You hear the vents above slowly whirr to life, the room slowly being filled with a strong heat that makes your head spin. You blink at Donnie, your limbs unstiffening as you try not to cry.
“You fixed it…” You mumble, letting your head hit the dull point of his plastron. Donnie nods, rubbing your back beneath the blankets. Anger pools in your chest for only a moment, the relief of the heat taking over and the exhaustion pushing through once more.
“I fixed it within minutes of its breaking. I wasn’t going to let the base freeze.” Donnie pulls you closer, kissing your temple with a smug smile. “You, however, weren’t letting me touch you, so I turned off the heat to try and convince you to let me touch you more, but that seems to have backfired.”
You scowl, hitting his shoulder with your forehead. You wanted to scream, to bite him, to do anything to make him suffer like he had you for the past few days, but you don’t. You were terrified he would turn the heat back off. His lab was obviously able to be isolated from the other parts of the base, which horrified you. For all you knew, he could leave and seal the doors before shutting the oxygen off for a couple minutes, just to let you suffer.
Donnie continues to rub your back, his quiet humming not showing any bit of remorse for the torment he had put you through. He seemed happy with the outcome, and you figured he was. Here you were in his arms, just as he wanted. Maybe once you could feel your fingers again, you’d try and fight him, but for now, you had given up. The heat was too much of a reward for you to risk losing it now. Even Donnie’s arms were a price you were willing to pay to not freeze. His plan had worked, and now nothing would stop him from doing it again.