#there were definitely ways they could have played with him. Not every character needs to have a sob back story

[insanityclause]

“It must have been in about 1979, I was in New York on holiday. I was sitting up with a friend, and we were both stoned as owls.” Jane Wymark was retelling her brush with a piece of theatre history. She recalled the sound of a telephone cutting through the sour, rising smoke. Wymark answered. Distant and absurd on the other end of the line, a telegram message from her mother. “It said something like: ‘Wonderful job. Hamlet, please come home.’”

After several minutes of laughter, it occurred to Wymark that the call might not be a joke. “So I rung my mother up, and said ‘I’m really sorry if I’m waking you up in the middle of the night for no reason, but is this real?’ And she said, ‘Yes, come home right now, because they want you to play Ophelia.’”

Wymark was being parachuted into a production of Hamlet that was being talked about as among the best of the century. Derek Jacobi, a Shakespearean actor then in his forties and recently made famous by his star turn as the Roman emperor in the television series I, Claudius, was in the title role. In some quarters, Jacobi’s poetic, volatile performance was being talked about as the Hamlet of his generation.

A film of the production would be broadcast in America and viewed by more people at once than any in history. When The New York Times asked Jacobi how he felt knowing that a generation of viewers would come to consider his interpretation definitive, he replied: “That way lies madness.”

One night, Wymark recalled, the cast were taking their bows in the furnacelike auditorium. “By the time we got to the end of the show we were pouring sweat,” she said. “Well I wasn’t, because I’d been dead for a while, but Derek and the guy playing Laertes were just sopping. We’d done all the usual curtain calls and everything, and then Peter O’Toole comes wavering on to the stage.”

O’Toole, then almost 50 and skeletal-gaunt, was carrying in his hands a little red book. As the audience hushed he explained that the book was given to the actor who was considered the definitive Hamlet of his generation. When O’Toole had played the part in 1963, the actor Michael Redgrave had given him the book. Redgrave had been given it by someone else, a great actor of the previous generation, and now O’Toole was passing it on to Jacobi, who in turn could give it to whomever he pleased.

The notion that each generation has its definitive Hamlet is a critical will-o’-the-wisp that has dogged the play almost since it was written. The Edwardian essayist Max Beerbohm called Shakespeare’s most famous part “a hoop through which every eminent actor must, sooner or later, jump”, but only one actor in thousands gets to “give” his or her Hamlet in a professional production. “Everyone — great, good, bad or indifferent — wants to play Hamlet,” the actor Christopher Plummer once said.

Why? The question feels redundant. If you are someone who needs to perform, you are someone who needs to perform Hamlet. In Withnail and I, the 1987 cult comedy film about actors and their ambitions, the bloated, fey, lecherous character known as Uncle Monty has a short speech on the subject: “It is the most shattering experience of a young man’s life when, one morning, he awakes and quite reasonably says to himself, ‘I will never play the Dane.’ When that moment comes, one’s ambition ceases.”

Earlier this year, I set out to find the red book.

As a trophy, a tradition, a secret succession, it seemed to embody some of the most romantic ideas about the part. I felt that in mapping its passage from player to player, I could trace a shadow history of the thing that has been driving the whole theatrical world for centuries: ambition.

This is what brought me to ask the retired Wymark about her encounter with the book. And this is how I eventually came to be standing outside a rambling, gabled cottage in north London, uncertain about whether to ring the bell until a vast Shakespearean sneeze told me I was at the right place. The door opened and I shook hands with a neat, elderly man who looked just like Derek Jacobi. The living room, decorated with antique furniture and hung with flower paintings, left an impression of a precisely chosen life. I said that I wanted to ask him about a red, leather-bound book, handed down from actor to actor, that had passed through his hands decades ago. I said he might be the oldest living actor to have held it in his hands. He furrowed an alpine brow and fixed his pale blue eyes on a tiny point just past my left eye. “Oh God,” he moaned, in an agony of remembrance. “It was a little copy of Hamlet . . . ”

Of course, there is no definitive Hamlet. This is true, and so obviously true that people have been saying it for hundreds of years. “There is no such thing as Shakespeare’s Hamlet,” wrote Oscar Wilde. “There are as many Hamlets as there are melancholies.” This is true! Hamlet is sour, obedient, suicidal, sarcastic, self-indulgent, flip and outright murderous before the end of his second scene. Modern scholarship has been wincingly keen to stress the heterogeneity of possible responses. As I once heard a professor say in a university seminar, should we be speaking of Hamlets, rather than Hamlet?

Perhaps. But we should also be honest: that sucks and we hate it. We also can’t ignore the genealogy of great Hamlets that exists, stretching all the way back to Richard Burbage, Shakespeare’s star performer and business partner, for whom the role was written. That the character and the play are both radically unstable and look totally different in different hands seems to have made us more eager to pinpoint a single actor’s performance as the one. Producers, theatre managers, actors and journalists have connived to reinforce that idea.

Hamlet does offer an actor a scope and centrality that no other part does. “It’s the great personality role in Shakespeare,” Jacobi explained when we were sitting down, his hands conducting the silence around him as he spoke. He had settled in a winged leopard-print armchair, like a portrait of himself. On the side table was an Olivier Award, a small bronze sculpture of the great Laurence Olivier himself, the man who won both Best Actor and Best Picture for his 1948 film of Hamlet, and then launched the National Theatre in 1963 with a production of the play. “You use much more of your own personality as Hamlet,” Jacobi said, “rather than becoming Hamlet by going out and acquiring things. . . Hamlet will look how the actor looks, sound how he sounds, move how he moves. You play yourself as Hamlet.”

Jacobi first came to prominence as a teenage Hamlet, in an eye-catchingly serious schoolboy production at the Edinburgh festival fringe. In his early twenties he joined the germinal National Theatre and played opposite O’Toole’s Hamlet as Laertes. In his forties, he was given the red book by O’Toole, filmed in the role and toured the world. He was sworn to revenge under sheets of pelting rain outside the real Elsinore castle in Denmark. He soliloquised and played mad by the Egyptian Sphinx as the sun set.

A particular challenge of playing the part, Jacobi told me, is delivering lines so famous they risk breaking the audience’s suspension of disbelief. In his production, the second act began with Hamlet’s most famous soliloquy. Unusually, it was played as a speech delivered to Ophelia, rather than on an empty stage. In Sydney, at the end of the tour, Jacobi was waiting nervously in the wings. “I thought, ‘This is probably the most famous line in all drama. What if I forgot it? What if I went on and my mind went blank?’ And I went on, and I started . . . 

“To be, or not to be, that is the question/ Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer/ The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune/ Or–

Or–

Or–

Or–”

Blinded to the astonishment of a thousand spectators by the force of the footlights, Jacobi realised he’d dried. Dried completely. It wasn’t like he’d forgotten the words. It was like he’d never known them. An entire minute of silence passed, until he was audibly given his line by Ophelia. Somehow, he got through the performance and the rest of the run. Afterwards, Jacobi didn’t go on stage again for two years. When I mentioned the incident, his eyes turned tight and hooded. He asked to talk about something else. Sensing my cue, I returned to the red book.

“Oh God. Rich!” he called into the next room. “Who did I give the book to?”

“You gave it to Ken Branagh,” called Richard Clifford, Jacobi’s partner, from offstage.

“Ken! I gave it to Ken,” said Jacobi. Then, calling back: “Who did Ken give the book to?”

“Tom Hiddleston!”

“Tom! He gave it to Tom.”

I asked how he had received the book himself and he went back into the trance of remembrance. “Now, I was playing Hamlet at the Old Vic. And at the curtain call one night, Peter O’Toole came on to the stage with this book and gave it to me. And he had originally been given it by . . . Oh . . . ” He trailed off, unable to remember Redgrave.

“Oh!” cried Clifford from the kitchen.

“Oh!” cried Jacobi in the living room.

Johnston Forbes-Robertson. That was the name of the first owner of the red book. Forbes-Robertson was a legendary Victorian actor who played Hamlet into his sixties. The book itself was a Temple Shakespeare, a handsome reader’s edition of the play printed around the turn of the century and bound in red leather. He probably bought it in a West End bookshop, pacing around between rehearsals. Or so I’m told by Russell Jackson, an emeritus professor at the University of Birmingham. “It would have been instantly recognisable,” he told me. “You can hold it more or less in the palm of your hand.”

In 1996, Jackson was working as a script consultant on a film of Hamlet directed by Branagh, who was then in the middle of a hurtling, flame-tipped ascent to near-unprecedented eminence among Shakespearean actors. As a leading man who had run his own theatre company and could direct and star in internationally released film adaptations of the plays, there was no one to compare him to but Olivier. He was now at work on a princely four-hour fantasia, shot amid fake fallen snow at Blenheim Palace with himself in the starring role.

He had cast his old hero, Jacobi, as Hamlet’s murderous uncle Claudius. On his last day of shooting, after the traditional applause that follows a final take, Jacobi asked for silence. Jackson kept a diary at the time: “[Jacobi] holds up a red-bound copy of the play that successive actors have passed on to each other, with the condition that the recipient should give it in turn to the finest Hamlet of the next generation. It has come from Forbes-Robertson, a great Hamlet at the turn of the century, to Derek, via Henry Ainley, Michael Redgrave, Peter O’Toole and others. Now he gives it to Ken.”

Hamlet had been a pivotal document in Branagh’s life. As a teenager in 1977, he had seen Jacobi play the role at the New Theatre in Oxford. In his memoir, he remembers it as one of the moments that inspired him to become an actor. “I didn’t understand it at all, but I was amazed by the power of it because it seemed to be affecting my body. I got the shakes at times.”

Two years later, Branagh went to interview Jacobi, who was then playing Hamlet at the Old Vic. “I got a note from someone called Ken Branagh, saying, could he interview me for Rada’s magazine?” Jacobi told me, referring to the prestigious London acting school Branagh attended. “He was a personable young man. He asked good questions. As he left, he said: ‘I’m going to be playing Hamlet one day, and you’re going to be in it.’”

“Ken,” Jacobi added with a smile, “wasn’t slow in coming forward.”

It was no secret that Branagh had set his sights on matching, even reanimating, Olivier’s career. With his movie of Hamlet, he was threatening to run away with the crown. But while the film won plaudits from some critics, it made back only around a quarter of its budget, and Branagh was nominated only for best adapted screenplay at the Oscars, a curiously backhanded compliment for a Hamlet that advertised itself as the complete text.

Branagh held on to the book for more than 20 years, passing over several acclaimed Hamlets (David Tennant’s agonised spectre foremost among them) in that time. “I took special pains to make sure it was preserved,” said Branagh, who was reached with written questions via an agent and an aide during the shooting of his new film. “I felt the book was something rather treasured and private, and not something that you in any way crowed about. You were a temporary custodian.” In 2017, he finally handed the red book on to the actor sometimes thought of as his protégé, Hiddleston.

So there it was. Redgrave to O’Toole to Jacobi to Branagh to Hiddleston. But still, something wasn’t adding up. I began desperately ringing round old actors asking for snippets of information about the red book, and started reciting the list of names from Jackson’s diary entry: Forbes-Robertson, Ainley, Redgrave, O’Toole, Jacobi, among others. Every time I read the list, everyone said the same thing. Where the hell is Olivier?

Here is a story about Laurence Olivier. Once upon a time, in the early 1800s, there was a great Shakespearean actor called Edmund Kean. He was the Hamlet of the Romantics. Samuel Taylor Coleridge wrote that watching him was “like reading Shakespeare by flashes of lightning”. Kean was also renowned for playing Shakespeare’s other great soliloquist, Richard III. As the hunchbacked villain, Kean would rage and swagger and strut about, swishing a great sword in his hand. That sword was passed to William Chippendale, a member of Kean’s company. Chippendale gave it to an actor called Henry Irving, who gave it to the great Ellen Terry who, we understand, gave it to her great nephew. His name was John Gielgud. Gielgud gave the sword to his contemporary, Olivier, telling him to pass it on to the great actor of the next generation. And Olivier kept it.

He is rumoured to have been buried with it. Certainly, the sword has not been seen since his death. (One of the last people to see it was Jacobi, who confirmed to me that Olivier still had it as a very old man.) Is Olivier really lying in his grave with no tongue between his teeth and Kean’s sword beside him? If he is, it feels like a little parable about the sharp, inward points of ambition. Here was a man who got everything and more from a life in the theatre. But he couldn’t bear to part with a prop sword.

The question of why Olivier never received the book becomes more pressing when you read the letters he received playing Hamlet from the Edwardian actor Henry Ainley, the book’s second owner. On opening night, January 5 1937, Ainley telegrammed Olivier in his dressing room: “THE READINESS IS ALL.” Later that night he wrote: “You, my sweet, are the Mecca . . . Pay no heed to the critics, they do not know. You are playing Hamlet; therefore you are a king [ . . . ] You rank, now among the great.”

Ainley’s hornily free-associating letters seem to imply a physical affair at times. “Larry darling, I have been tossing (now now) about at night thinking of you,” he writes in one of the letters, currently kept by the British Library.

“Well, you know what you did. I can’t walk [ . . . ] And the child has your eyes.” Yet it is Olivier’s fame that Ainley most obviously covets. “Soon you will be like [me],” he writes in another. “Your public, your following all gone, dear old boy! The harlequinade. We do not endure!” There is no mention in their correspondence of the red book. Whether Ainley had already given the book away, or felt compelled to hang on to it, or simply had forgotten it, remains a matter of speculation.

It’s not the only agonising gap in the archive. In 1963, an older Olivier cast Peter O’Toole in the production of Hamlet that would open the National Theatre. O’Toole had already played a wild, revelatory Hamlet at the Bristol Old Vic in 1958, in which he famously climbed the proscenium arch mid-performance. It was an interpretation that harnessed the young actor’s modernity. “He’s a lean, lank, individualist Teddy Boy!” one reviewer enthused.

But in 1963, Olivier had other ideas. “It was very strange,” remembers Siân Phillips, O’Toole’s then wife, now aged 91. “Larry [Olivier] had talked him into this terrible costume. He looked like Little Lord Fauntleroy, with a Peter Pan collar and clean, beautifully cut dyed blond hair.”

Phillips thought Olivier seemed to want to trim the edges off her husband. “Larry had this new kind of concept of a very tidy Hamlet, which was the opposite of what [O’Toole] did best. But he had such regard for Larry, who was flattering him enormously. He just did everything asked of him.” Phillips had put her own starry career on hold to let O’Toole have the spotlight. She did his filing and kept track of gifts he had been given, making sure people were thanked, which was why she found it strange that she’d never heard of the red book.

Together, we wondered if the unhappy production had made it a sore point for her husband. “The thought did cross my mind once or twice that Olivier might be trying to sabotage him,” she said. “But how could he want to do that on the opening night of the National Theatre?” On the other end of the phone, I thought of Kean’s sword.

Perhaps this is harsh. Perhaps we can understand the desire to have and hold on to a physical token of fame, strength, adulation, applause, youth — the things that slip away from even the greatest artists. All performers live in fear of unemployment and redundancy, and even the successful ones are loved, fiercely and temporarily, for being someone they’re not. “Today kings, tomorrow beggars, it is only when they are themselves that they are nothing,” wrote William Hazlitt, the English essayist.

“British theatre has traditionally privileged innovation,” the Shakespearean scholar Michael Dobson told me. In France, he explained, you could see Phèdre performed with the same gestures, the same intonation, for hundreds of years. “The British are always inventing new things, like gas lighting and ways of doing ghosts with mirrors. It’s never the old, boring Hamlet your parents used to like. It’s always got this young, original, absolutely real actor in it, instead of those stylised old geezers.”

In which case, let us sit upon the ground and tell sad stories about great actors who fell from fashion. It was Burbage who first delivered Hamlet’s acting advice to the players: “O’erstep not the modesty of nature: for any thing so overdone is from the purpose of playing, whose end, both at the first and now, was and is, to hold, as ’twere, the mirror up to nature.”

Until the modern day, actors didn’t play big roles just once or twice in their careers, in a long run of performances. They performed them frequently. Even in Shakespeare’s time, actors became associated with certain parts in the minds of spectators. Burbage died in March 1619, and the funeral baked meats were hardly cold when he was replaced by another actor, Joseph Taylor.

An unreliable but enticing story has it that Burbage taught Taylor, and Taylor taught the next great Hamlet, Thomas Betterton. Betterton was the Hamlet of Restoration theatre, among the first to play opposite women. Confronting his father’s ghost, Betterton’s Hamlet could “turn his colour”, as though his face had drained of blood with fright. Betterton made his face “pale as his neck cloth”.

Betterton died in 1710, immortality assured. Within a few decades his reputation had been all but vaporised by the greatest actor of the century, David Garrick. Garrick was almost a religion among theatregoers. “That young man never had his equal as an actor, and will never have a rival,” was the poet and critic Alexander Pope’s verdict. Garrick was both a shameless showman and pioneering realist. He played Hamlet in a mechanical fright wig that made his hair stand on end when activated.

Garrick was replaced by John Philip Kemble, a severe and statuesque Hamlet. In the early 19th century, Kemble was outmoded by Kean, whose ascendant star was quickly selling out theatres. “Places are secured at Drury Lane for Saturday, but so great is the rage for seeing Kean that only a third and fourth row could be got,” wrote Jane Austen, struggling to get seats. Out with the old. Next came Samuel Phelps, the actor-manager who first made a point of performing the original texts of Shakespeare’s plays. He was toppled by Henry Irving, a drawn and gothic actor. Irving was supposedly the inspiration for Dracula; his theatre manager was Bram Stoker.

Enter the melancholic, effeminate figure of Forbes-Robertson, the first owner of our red book. His Hamlet, first performed in 1897 and still being revived into his sixties, was in some ways the last definitive stage performance in this unofficial, highly debatable but surprisingly enduring tradition. “Nothing half so charming,” George Bernard Shaw wrote of his performance, “has been seen by this generation.” Orson Welles described one recording of Forbes-Robertson as the most beautiful Shakespearean verse-speaking he ever heard. You can still listen to it on YouTube, uploaded from an ancient LP.

“The next reference to the actor’s art,” creaks the old voice above the hiss of imperfectly transcribed sound, “is Hamlet’s advice to the players, written, obviously, by an actor who has complete command of his calling.” In a voice ponderous with time but still capable of lightness and precision, he begins the passage in which Hamlet gives notes to a theatrical troupe. “Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced it to you, trippingly on the tongue.”

Forbes-Robertson would have seen more clearly than many of his successors how rapidly the galaxy of theatrical ambition was expanding. He was the first great Hamlet to play the part on film, in a lumpy silent production in 1913. If that film looks stagey and stylised to modern eyes, then looking back at these nested revolutions in realism, it’s also obvious that old actors have always looked that way in the eyes of their successors. Naturalism is just the style each era brings with it.

Hamlet’s advice was itself part of this reach towards the endlessly receding goal of the real. To an Elizabethan audience, the travelling troupe with their heroic verse and stagey couplets would have seemed obviously to belong to a previous generation of players, one playwrights like Shakespeare, and plays such as Hamlet, were making redundant. Hamlet says to the players what the theatre is always saying: be young, be modern, be new.

You can’t ask too much of very famous actors. Basic professionalism demands that they don’t tell you anything too interesting. They live like criminals, travelling under pseudonyms and booking the front seat on aeroplanes. We abhor in their personal lives the basic human latitude we praise in their work. “I am myself indifferent honest yet I could accuse me of such things that it were better my mother had not borne me,” Hamlet says to Ophelia. “What should such fellows as I do, crawling between heaven and earth?”

I had hundreds of questions for Hiddleston, the 43-year-old star of the Marvel Cinematic Universe and current holder of the red book. Unfortunately, Hiddleston is not an easy man to reach. As the man who plays Loki in the Marvel series (global gross about $30bn), he has been watched at his craft by an unimaginable number of human eyes. He does his work in green-screen and widescreen settings that would also have been unimaginable to 90 per cent of the people named in this article. Where Burbage played Hamlet without an interval, Hiddleston’s fame is a postmodern mosaic, put together in franchise films with an average shot length of two seconds. Given that he commands multimillion-dollar fees for these acts of cinematic pointillism, you may imagine his time is precious. I was able to reach him by phone for 15 minutes during press week for Loki season 2’s Emmy campaign. “Good morning,” he said, dialling in from Los Angeles. “I mean, sorry, good evening.”

Hiddleston played Hamlet in a fundraiser production for Rada directed by Branagh in 2017. He told me how he had left drama school and joined Declan Donnellan’s Cheek by Jowl theatre company, standing out as Cassio in a somewhat legendary modern Othello, in which Ewan McGregor played Iago opposite Chiwetel Ejiofor in the lead. Branagh saw the production and persuaded Marvel studios to let him cast this relative unknown in Thor, which then grossed almost half a billion dollars. Afterwards, they sat down for lunch and Branagh suggested Hamlet. “And I said, ‘I would absolutely love to do it with you. What an honour.’”

The production played for three weeks in Rada’s tiny theatre, with tickets that were won by lottery. Among the critics, Michael Billington, Britain’s most decorated theatre writer, was one of the few to have got a seat. “If I had to pick out Hiddleston’s key quality, it would be his ability to combine a sweet sadness with an incandescent fury,” Billington wrote in his review. On Saturdays, Hiddleston remembered, there were gala performances for graduates and theatrical somebodies. “I think at the first one almost everybody with the last name ‘Attenborough’ in the UK was in attendance.”

On one of these evenings, a glass was clinked with a spoon. Jacobi began to speak, explaining something about a book that had passed from actor to actor. “And then Ken was at the microphone, explaining that the responsibility of the keeper of the book is that they pass it on to the next generation. And suddenly Ken said, ‘I’d like to present it to Tom.’”

We were 10 minutes into our 15. I looked at my list of questions — on frontispieces, annotations, signatures, printing quirks — about the red book. Hiddleston was in LA. The book was in London. He was not contractually obliged to talk to me, as he was to the other journalists who were waiting on iPhones all over the world. All that was sustaining this conversation was the actor’s private enthusiasm for the kind of acting he is rarely, if ever, able to do anymore.

Hiddleston began to talk at length. He said the gift of playing the part was to be presented with the most beautiful, profound poetry written in English about the question of being alive, of death, of the possibility of spiritual life after death.

An email arrived saying our time was up. “It has the effect of making me feel more alive,” Hiddleston was saying. “Learning and internalising those great soliloquies, and having to perform them, there is no escaping those big questions of what it means to be alive,” he went on, the minutes ticking by. “And actually I find it very reassuring to ask those questions. I find it repetitively reassuring to say those words. Because it actually makes your life mean something.”

#tom hiddleston #kenneth branagh #Derek Jacobi #hamlet #the red book

[ourfinalembrace]

the outsiders is one of them books for me that finds you just when you need it. my mam had been trying to get me to read it for years because it was her favourite book from when she was growing up and she knew i would love it, but each time she suggested it, i just shrugged it off. i'm what i call a very picky reader, so a lot of book suggestions i get are disregarded. then, when i was 15, i went through a trauma. it was nothing massively 'serious,' but it was enough to stop me sleeping for a good 9-10 months. every night when everyone else was asleep in bed, i would have my light switched on and i would be reading book after book after book. eventually i got tired of reading the same books over and over again, so i finally picked the outsiders up and honestly...i read the first page and i already knew it was the best decision i'd ever made. the nights i spent wide awake reading because the thought of even trying to go to sleep was terrifying, were incredibly lonely. my only company were my own thoughts, and with each night that went by, i felt more and more isolated, from people and from reality. reading the outsiders made me feel less alone. not only could i see myself in more than one of the characters, there were also striking resemblances between scenes in the novel and my own life. e.g. towards the end, just before the rumble, when ponyboy tells cherry he can see the sunset too as a poetic way of saying she isn't alone and that she has someone who understands. when i was a young child, i had a best friend named cameron, and we were inseperable. we would see each other at school, then go to each other's house after, and then we would see each other at the weekend too. but then he moved to the other end of the country and, even though i was young and had plenty of other friends to play with in the playground, i did miss him. and one day i asked my mam if cameron saw the same moon as i did from where he was now living, to which my mam said yes, and that made me realise i didn't have to miss him because we were under the same moon. reading that scene in the novel brought me a sense of peace that i'd needed for a long time. and whilst i wouldn't claim the book solved all of my issues - it was merely a temporary fix for the lonely, fearful nights - it definitely made things a lot easier.

#the outsiders #ponyboy curtis #sodapop curtis #darry curtis #dally winston #johnny cade #two bit matthews #steve randle #cherry valance #s e hinton

[thesilverlady]

What do you think of Tyrion ? For me there are 2 of them. The book one and the show one. Show one I hate. Book one I kinda enjoy because he constantly flirts with darkness. I don’t buy show Tyrion poor misunderstood meow meow. And I hate that they did the same with show Aemond. That’s why I prefer Aegon and Daemon. From the beginning you know where they stand, there are no attempts to make them sympathetic bullshit. Stop whitewashing characters in order to make characters more sympathising for audience. The reason why the Joker, Soprano Family and Roy family from Succession are so great is because they aren’t portrayed as some poor people being victims of their circumstances all their life. Aemond wanting to console Jace at Driftmark? What the fuck is that? Also giving him sexual trauma made me laugh. The show made it clear I and everyone else is meant to feel sorry for him but I just laughed at how pathetic they are. Like you have weak Viserys, pedo Daemon, rapist and drunkard Aegon and traumatised and with only one eye Aemond. So yeah, the winner of who should be the fan favourite is clear. Instead of showing the 4 of them as bad and letting people choose who their favourite is, they create 3 of them in unsympathetic light and make one of them #1 victim and the other 3 as monsters or weak men. Sorry but I hate the narrative where I am being shown down my throat who I am supposed to love and who to hate. Especially if 3 out of 4 characters are doing terrible things and only one behaves properly until starting the war. I really can’t wait for Aemond to burn Riverlands, most stans would leave his fanclub and began to see Aegon is not the worst guy out there. I just hope TGC won’t stop playing Aegon until the moment Aemond will show everyone what a legit psycho he really is. And tbh Aemond was my favourite green character in the book but the forced victimisation and the way the fandom act as if aemond is the most opressed character and "feminist" to ever walk in westros when he is the targaryen ver of Andrew tate in reality has completely ruined my enjoyment of him

I don't really have anything to add. I agree with your complains for the most part. I think lots of shows nowadays are painfully censored, the writing has to be simple and the views have to be walked by the hand because they cannot make an intellectual conclusion on their own.

Dunno if you've watched this. But Hannibal nbc was one of my favorite shows of all time. An interesting adaption that was definitely very different from the book material but didn't try to pretend to be better. It was its own thing and was extremely controversial while it was airing due to the violence, themes, and overall subjects. It also remains very much loved despite the years that have passed with an ever so dedicated fanbase.

it seems hard to recreate shows like this. Even GoT's writing was starting to suffering way before the last two seasons but ofc people were trying to be optimistic and we still had hope that one day George might publish another book...

I loved Tyrion and still do in the books. His pov happens to be a favorite of mine, but the show version of him got very bad very fast. It's as you mentioned, there doesn't seem to be a balance about the characters who are supposed to be dark but also possess good traits. It's what makes them interesting in first place.

There's a very weird love for oversimplification in recent times and it kinda sucks out the joy ngl.

As for show aemond, I've ranted so much about him I'd probably repeat myself. I'd only advise to keep expectations low. S1 they managed to make him murdering Lucerys an accident 💀 I wouldn't be surprised if they try something similiar with the burning of Riverlands (perhaps another misunderstanding like the alicent x Viserys one?) who knows. we can only wait and see

#ask reply #anti got #anti hotd #aemond is a simple man in the book. He's arrogant. violent. misogynistic and has the need to prove himself #there were definitely ways they could have played with him. Not every character needs to have a sob back story #corlys and daemon were power hungry men who were constantly aiming for it. Both were wasted #show Viserys is quite literally the worst man ever I hate him more than anyone else. he's a terrible king. father. brother. husband #and the very interesting dynamic daemon and him had in the book which he destroys when he causes mysaria to miscarriage could be easily exp

[that-fic-girl]

HAZBIN HOTEL X READER HC #1

Head canon: what it would be like to date them.

characters: Alastor, angel dust, husk, vox

disclaimer: everything i write about these characters might not be accurate to the actual story, please take everything in the fic with a grain of salt, none of this is canon!!

Alastor

he hasnt been in an actual relationship in a while so being close and vulnerable with someone is quite hard for him, especially as someone who associates emotions with weakness.

First off, its safe to say he adores the ground you walk on. He's in love with everything about you, your clothes, the smell of your hair, your sickly sweet voice. his loves it all.

If there was ever a problem you needed fixing, a person you needed taken care of or even a errand you needed to run he would tend to it himself. he would not let you lift a finger.

PDA is a iffy thing for him, he wouldnt do grand big gestures but maybe a hand on the hip or a few words of affirmation.

everyone in the pride ring quickly learned of yours and radio demon's relationship. And no one dared to mess with you, ofcourse there was people who wanted to test their luck but they would have to pay the price later.

his love language is definitely words of affirmation, he will sweet talk the shit out of you. At night when it's just you two in bed, he will have his hands stroking through your hair whilst you rant to him about your day and he'll reply with sweet nothings

"oh darling, i've missed you all evening"

"you looked ravishing today my dear.."

"mm your hair smells amazing, my love"

Angel Dust

Angel is one of, if not, the horniest mother fuckers out there but somehow, he manages to somewhat make a healthy relationship with someone.

you two are seen as "the bad bitch" couple. you're always out together, always getting into dumb shit together. You'll get yelled at by vaggie at early hours in the morning because the two of you where playing a childish game of tag in the hotel halls.

his love language is definitely physical touch, he'll have his arms slung around your waist almost all the time. Kisses are a MUST every 5 minutes, like this boy will NOT part from you. especially in the mornings when you have to leave for work;

"mmnnnnoooooooo...stayyy for five minutes pleasseeeee"

"but sweets..you're soooo warm"

"sweetheart please, you feel so comfy"

yeah good luck with that.

nights with him are VERY eventful, if it wasn't obvious. You two would usually be at it late hours into the night but sometimes, when you two where too exhausted to fuck like rabbits, he would be sprawled across your lap whilst you stroked his fur.

Husk

Despite his harsh tone and uncompromising demeanor, you understood that Husk wasn't trying to be malicious towards you. It was simply his way of communicating, and you knew that his behavior wasn't personal. Even though he could be abrasive at times, you loved him for his rough edges and authentic personality

You and Husk's time together was mostly spent at the bar. You didn't like to drink much, but you loved seeing him work and make cocktails like a pro. You didn't mind that it wasn't considered a typical date, because you liked spending time with him in whatever way he felt most comfortable.

Husk is not used to receiving compliments, as he didn't often receive them in his past life. When you complimented him, it caught him off guard and he was surprised. But he eventually learned to appreciate it, and it even made him feel a little sentimental.

Despite the difficulty, you were able to help Husk realize that you genuinely cared about him. He had been used to being surrounded by dishonesty and hypocrisy, but you were always sincere and real. He held you in high regard, as you were the only source of light in his life, and he didn't want to lose you.

vox

You were known as a strong and independent person who didn't need assistance from others. You knew how to stand up for yourself, despite being harsh and tough at times. Despite your exterior, no one was aware of the soft spot in your heart that Vox's affection and touch alone could melt away your severity.

He appreciated seeing your affectionate side, as it felt special and intimate, like a shared secret between the two of you. He knew you valued your privacy, and he respected it by never sharing photos or other details on social media. He didn't want to betray your trust.

You were often feared and respected when you were with Vox. People found it hard to believe that someone as intimidating as yourself could have a tender, caring side that was kept hidden from most. Vox was glad that he was the only one who got to see that side of you. He didn't want to share something so special and personal with anyone else.

Quite often, he would call you on the phone, knowing that sweet words could be just as effective as a kiss. He enjoyed hearing how your voice softened from its usual seriousness to a more affectionate tone. He was aware that when he said loving phrases to you, you would blush and smile shyly, and sometimes he even regretted not being able to witness it in person.

"i've missed you today babe.."

"mhm look at my pretty girl/boy!"

#Hazbin Hotel #Hazbin Hotel x Reader #Hazbin Hotel headcanons #Alastor #Alastor x Reader #Vox #Vox x Reader #Hazbin Hotel oneshots #Husk #Husk x Reader #angel dust #angel dust x reader #vivziepop\

[mournings-stars]

Maybe the wrapping wings around heddies but the reader wraps their wings around the characters?

okay i rly like this but what about with characters that don’t have wings?? (lmk if yall want characters w wings cus this is kinda silly funny haha)

charlie

she loves when your wings wrap around her — every time she hugs you, she’s waiting for that extra warmth and when it comes she just hugs you even tighter

she wouldn’t ask you to do it, but if you put a wing around her in public she’s trying not to get too excited

cuddling is a must for wings. you’re sitting on the couch? she wants a nice feathery blanket. lying in bed? same thing. watching a scary movie? she’s using your wings as a shield to duck under anytime theres a jump scare

if you asked her if she’d like a wing, she’s the happiest you’ve ever seen her

“im starting to wonder if you’re just dating me for my wings,” you’d joke and she’d laugh and say, “they’re definitely a plus” while running her finger over the top of one (this girl likes to tease i know it)

she loves when you cuddle up to her and wrap your wings around her, like she just melts

she does not let anyone play with them. ever. if niffty tried to go scurrying around them, she’s taking her away faster than she can blink

your wings are hers as much as they are yours, but that’s a silent rule between you two that she doesn’t plan on voicing

she just gives “let me be your wings” from thumbelina vibes like you would have a duet like that

alastor

now if you ever need to gossip, he’s clearing his throat and you’re shielding your conversation with your wings while you two laugh and whisper

he does not want anyone touching him but if you put a wing around him he knows you guys have some important business to talk about

sometimes you throw up your wing, whisper, and he has to stop himself from laughing when you quickly put your wing down, alastor batting it with his microphone as you laughed

now if he’s ever hurt, that’s when your wings go around him, making sure no one sees so he can escape to saftey

you’d always come to his rescue even if he got mad at you for it, wings wrapping around him as you struck his attacker faster than he could summon his shadows (and he definitely gets pissed about it but hey what are … friends …. for!)

wings are for shit talking and the occasional life saver when it comes to al

angel dust

he loves the security of your wings

after a long day, you’d just lie in his room, wings wrapped around him as he held you close — he’d either fall asleep or want to sit in silence like that, but either way you were happy to help

sometimes you’d just sit at the bar, wing around him as you talked and laughed together

whenever you went out together, your wings were a strict barrier that no one dared to cross. you put a wing in front of angel when some guy approaches him? he and every other demon are backing off for the rest of the night. you’re walking down the street? wing around him and no one is approaching you

he definitely asks you to do it (in his own very special way) and he likes to tease you when you’re around other people

but you both know he treasures the safety your wings give him

pentious

my boy pentious 100% thinks you’ve turned against him the first time you drape your wings over him — you could’ve literally been sleeping and he’d accuse you of trying to smother him

“i was sleeping!” “your subconscious mind plans to kill me, too!”

he warms up to it though because the next time it happens you’re fast asleep and theres no attempt to block his airways, or whatever he thought you’d do, so he snuggles into the warmth

being a snake (i love snakes im gonna b a lil nerdy about this one) pen likes to burrow. especially at night. he’d start to curl up under the warmth of your wings and rest there until you eventually moved

some days you’d wake up and he’d be completely hidden beneath your wings. if you lift one, he’d very quickly tug it back (definitely how he found out about sensitive wings)

he felt very bad :(

cherri

wings are for parties!

they give you the best dance numbers — dramatic reveal, awesome poses, super dope flying routine…!

then they’re for comedowns because once you’re home from the club shit hits the fan and you’re wrapping your wings around her so she can even try to sleep

but then the morning comes and you brush it off cus it’s time to blow shit up!

definitely using your wings as a shield though — they’re probably dyed pink and red by now, with all the times you’ve had to cover the two of you from explosives

but she finds it super hot so…

velvette

she likes to fuck with you

1000% uses them as her personal armor — you’re basically a body guard

she’ll wrap them around herself while looking in the mirror, modeling your wings like a feather coat

“my wings are not going in your collection,” you’d have to tell her, still pulling her closer with them as you met her eyes in the mirror

“yeah, guess you’re right. can’t have anyone else getting a hold of these, can we?”

she loves being wrapped in them while she sleeps — she loves you sleeping next her, cause then she can lay them however she wants

it’s always best when you’re wings fold in and bring her closer though

definitely been used for a private moment in the office

she says they’re your best asset

vox

now this man is, under no circumstances, letting you wrap your wings around him

in public? absolutely not…

in private? well…. no! totally not!

at least not until you’re asleep and he’s situating himself beneath them. it’s not his fault a feather blanket helps him fall asleep

you’ve definitely waited until he fell asleep, draped you wings over him, and watched him relax into them

he’s not slick

like at all

not even in public

he’ll touch them and the minute one even wraps around him, his screen is buffering

speaking of in public… just wait til you’re at a party. he’s drunk and all over you, touching your wings, handling them like their his own, you have to use them to shield the two of you when he gets too handsy, and he loves it; pushing your buttons until your wings are around him and being more than satisfied by that

niffty

girl is crazy

she cleans them, climbs on them, inspects them (almost rips the fuck out of your feathers)

there’s no way you can wrap that girl up, she’s too quick

but she would love petting them and thats why shes here

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin velvette #vox x reader #hazbin alastor #alastor x reader #velvette headcanons #velvette x reader #vox headcanons #hazbin headcanons #charlie hazbin hotel #charlie x reader #niffty #i love angel dust #hazbin angel dust #angel dust x reader #cherri bomb #cherri bomb x reader #sir pentious #sir pentious x reader #hazbin charlie #charlie morningstar #charlie magne #hazbin hotel charlie #angel dust #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin pentious #hazbin hotel pentious #cherri hazbin hotel

[hazelfoureyes]

⟢Alastor x Cupid FemReader Tasked with making a demon believe in true love or you can’t return to heaven, things immediately go off the rails when you hurt yourself and Alastor catches one of your most troubling arrows; Mania

˚₊ · »-♡→ Week 1 and Week 2 ˚₊ · »-♡→Week 3 and Week 4 smut💦 ˚₊ · »-♡→Week 5, Week 6, Week 7, and Epilogue smut💦

Alastor demands you tell him what you’d consider a nice date, which makes a surprisingly lovely time in the library. Dancing leads to… not dancing and a minor rearranging of your guts. And finally, you try to shame Alastor out of Mania and Alastor finds himself having to explain, well, Alastor.

「warnings/promises: Smut, guts➡️rearranged, kinda dub➡️con cuz Alastor still doesn’t listen, but funnily enough neither do you?, lots of interrupting each other, Luci’s hat, you’re down so fucking bad lmao」

🎶 minors DNI 🎵

Angel was live blogging everything you said when you recounted what happened to you after returning to the hotel.

“Wait there’s a character limit, I gotta make a new post.” He was wiping actual tears from his eyes, “Fuck this is funny.”

“Hmmph,” Alastor offered a small noise from his end of the sofa. Neither of you had mentioned or even referenced the sex. There was a strange feeling between you that it didn’t happen so it didn’t need a discussion. But also that it had absolutely happened, as Alastor’s hands found renewed vigor in their search for you when in public and private and your body seemed to respond in kind. You’d still occasionally move his hand off of you, but there was a pulse of electricity every time. When his hand would come to rest on your upper thigh while seated beside each other in the common areas, you let it linger. What harm was it? Heaven wasn’t fucking watching.

Everything aside, the sex had done nothing to dispel his interest. Perhaps you’d only made it worse, for both of you. 

By midweek you found the sling useless, happily tossing it aside and beginning gentle stretches. That was more progress than you'd made in your main task. 

Every morning you woke up beside Alastor, every day you had him in your orbit, every night you fell asleep feet from him.

Had Mania not taken him he would be a prime candidate for showing the virtue of true love. He was already fucking there, a captive audience. But that wasn’t how it worked. Cupid-induced manic love could never be true. Nothing you created was true, really. But atleast with Eros or Agape you could still have added the notion of  true love to the mix. His heart would still be receptive and open to the idea. The way he was now, you could proselytize until you were blue in the face and he’d still think manic love was true love. 

An unintended consequence of living with Alastor was discovering you both had quite a bit in common, as much as that information irked you. He enjoyed horror movies such as ‘Dracula’, you enjoyed horror movies as well, just newer ones. Ones in color. He could cook quite well, something you enjoyed to do. And his taste in music was actually lovely. You had assumed he listened to screams on a 7 hour loop.

Actually, upon closer inspection, Alastor was nothing like you had initially assumed. While he had shown you he was capable of terrifying feats of strength and power, he was also remarkably gentle. Every time you descended the stairs his hand was barely felt as it hovered at your elbow ready to save you. 

Early in the week you fell asleep watching the group play a board game, somehow redemption related, and awoke with his coat laid over your body. When you thanked him, he just smiled and continued enjoying watching Niffty hide the play money.

You were finding yourself more and more wishing the arrow had never fallen. If you’d just met him as you fell, perhaps you would be staring into that portal home. There were definitely worse options around. Even his imposing height had begun to…not bother you, perhaps was the best way to say it.

Or his large hands. There was a safety in the way they rested on your back. Speaking of…

Your throat ran dry when he leaned into you, one of those hands sliding across your thigh,  and asked against your ear, “Ready to go?”

He had to have seen you licking your lips to unstick your teeth. With a nod, he stood and offered a hand to you. 

You both were already out of the elevator and walking to your room when he slowed, coming to stop just in front of you. 

His room, fucking hell. 

“You know, I was thinking,” he wasn’t looking as he spoke to you, which was odd given how often he stared at you. “If you’re going to be here with me from now on-“

You opened your mouth to argue but he put his hand up, “I’d like to know the things you enjoy doing with your romantic interests.” His smile was almost pure, you could tell he was genuinely asking.

“Well I don’t have any so, why would you care?”

“No things you enjoy?”

“No romantic interests.”

His head lolled to the side, “Sometimes I think you say things just to bother me.”

You did.

“I do.”

You thought if you kept being rude maybe you could keep him at an arm’s length. Not get too attached. You’d been kind to people you didn’t like before and eventually you started to like them. This was that. But opposite.

He stared down at you, taking a step closer. You took one back. That smile shifted from pure to sinister, his eyes half lidded. You could almost see the thoughts playing on his face.

“Alastor-,” your back hit the elevator doors. The pounding of your heart when he brought his face to yours drowned out the sounds of the button being pressed. When the doors opened you fell backward with a yelp, but a strong arm caught you by the waist.

“You have twelve floors.” His hand hit the first floor button, “You can share with me your idea of a quality date. Or I can show everyone,” that clawed hand came to your neck, sliding down the evidence of your pounding heart, “how pretty you scream.”

As soon as the doors closed you were pressed against the elevator wall, right leg pulled up and around his waist. “You wouldn’t dare.” You had meant it to sound strong but instead it was half whispered with a shaky voice.

He popped a button off your blouse, “Maybe!” Warm mouth now on your neck, his tongue ran over your pulse, “I wonder if everyone is still in the lobby.”

Over his shoulder you watched the numbers counting down. The hand that cut off the button slid down to your bottoms, slipping under the waistband.

On the 3rd floor the elevator stopped. When the doors opened a demon you didn’t recognize was standing there, eyes wide and mouth open. He didn’t make a move to enter, Alastor looking over his shoulder and sharing what you could only assume was a death glare. The flickering lights were a giveaway to his anger.

His fingers dipped down and cupped your sex, hot palm pressing into your folds. 

The doors closed again and you watched the second floor light up. A finger bent and pressed into you.

A nibble at your ear, “You know I’ll win, regardless.”

He was right. Which was the smaller defeat? Humiliation or just telling the bastard your idea of a nice time?

“Books. Drinks.” You squeaked, the first floor lamp now aglow. His hand pulled away just as the doors opened. 

Expecting him to gloat you were surprised he just hit the 10th floor button. The library. 

He opened the door for you. The library’s main area had two reading chairs bookending a long antique sofa. You took the chair furthest from the door, hearing the door lock.

With a snap, the entire bar with Husk included seemed to fall three inches out of thin air.

“Oh for fucks sake.” Husk looked around, already annoyed, “You coulda just fucking asked for drinks to bring with you. You know cups are portable, right?”

It was nice, actually. Husk poured, you both read. There was an unnecessary fireplace crackling behind you. Cozy. And it got cozier and warmer the more you drank. Your shields softened as the glasses emptied. 

Your book was good, but as you felt the alcohol hit you were reminded of the last time you’d gotten a little past tipsy. Sneakily, but not at all, your eyes wandered over to Alastor.

His legs were crossed, but you could remember looking down and seeing them spread open beneath you. Open. Did many people see him like you had? Had his talk about a disinterest in sex actually been a trick to intrigue you? It hadn’t worked, you genuinely didn’t care what his preferences were. If anything it made you less likely to make a pass.

Your eyes wandered down his slender neck to his wide shoulders. Less than a week ago your arms were resting there. Further down, you remembered that soft bit of fur at the base of his cock, a small trail from his belly button. 

Husk watched your face turn pink, “You good?” Your head whipped around, looking confused. “You’re getting red.”

Oh. I was just thinking about my pussy drowning in Alastor’s cum.

No, obviously not!

Alastor’s eyes left his book and found yours. They were so red; his eyes, not your cheeks. No one in heaven had such wicked an appearance. When you didn’t reply, busy staring back at Alastor, Husk groaned, “Aah fuck.”

“What are you reading?” You asked, clearly able to see the book title from where you sat. 

Alastor held it up, “Oliver Twist.”

“Never read it.”

You had read it.

Setting your book down, you tried to walk as straight as a line as you could to him. You took the book from his hands and sat down on his lap, back against his chest, before picking it up again. “What page are we on?”

“You can leave, Husker.” Alastor didn’t even look at Husk when he said it, eyes still on your face.

When the door closed and Alastor could lock it with a snap, he uncrossed his legs. “Would you like to start over dear? From the beginning.”

Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

“Can we?” You leaned your head onto his shoulder. When had he become so comfortable…?

“We can.” The book was set aside, his left hand pulling your chin up, “I think we skipped a few chapters before.”

You opened your mouth, “I don’t like kissing.” 

“You will.” 

The front part of your brain dissolved, you were sure of it. Your decision making abilities were entirely eradicated as his lips pressed into yours. Fuck, maybe even your basic motor skills had been fried, his tongue swiping across your mouth before you just—opened. Your hips ground down into his lap, and you felt his smile widen against your lips.

“Stop smiling. I just like warm bodies.” You reached for the book and opened it to the first page, “and you’re so fucking warm.”

He began to read, but between the rumble of his chest, his voice in your ear, and the heat of his body, you fell asleep.

No matter. Alastor just hummed. With a summoning of his shadow you both sank into your shared bed, where he continued reading with you against his chest.

You dreamt about home. About red eyes and warmth.

Was it so bad, being in hell? Sure you had a fucking deer demon as guard dog but it seemed his mania was … not so terrible. Honestly he seemed relatively normal now. He would wander off for significant lengths of time, even leaving in the mornings while you were still lazing about. A kiss to your hand was the indicator he would be popping off somewhere.

Alastor still wouldn’t let Lucifer alone with you, but otherwise everything was okay. You’d even come to enjoy certain aspects of his possessiveness. That ever present hand, for example. Even when it wasn’t on you, you could still almost feel it. It had become second nature now.

The week was actually peaceful. Your pain was entirely gone, you could move about freely. Despite that Alastor still would press up behind you and offer to help dress you. An offer you declined, but every time he asked you paused longer and longer before saying no.

Alastor was happy to find you in the library toward the end of the week, you having wandered off when he was called away. He summoned a confused but pissed off Husk again, who was midway through making someone else’s drink. He set it aside, pouring Alastor his whiskey. You decided against drinking, you knew you always made poor decisions. Like sleeping. 

Delighted by the impressive collection you found a non-fiction and settled into the same large chair.

“Reading is a virtue.” He said to himself yet out-loud, taking a seat and setting the radio on from across the room. Etta James. ‘Somethings got a hold of me.’

“A little past your time, isn’t it?” You smiled, you liked songs about love. Not because of who you were, you just liked the idea of someone so enamored they have to make art.

He laughed, “Nosey little bird, have you been asking about me?”

Well shit. You had forgotten to play dumb. The past couple weeks you had casually inquired about Alastor from the other staff members. A modest collection of facts to help you better understand the man. A quick recovery. “Know your enemy!” 

He cackled, “Sun Tzu! What does Cupid need ‘The Art of War’ for?!”

What, did he expect you to only read romance novels and Roman mythos? “You can’t make a shadow without light. In fact,” you put the book down, “The Greeks thought Cupid was a child of War and Beauty.”

Okay well, Greek mythos is a little different than their Roman counterpart’s. So. There.

Alastor watched you leaning over the arm of the chair, no sign of pain as you did so. Your injury must have mended well. “Do you have parents?” He asked, genuinely wondering how your kind were created. 

“No, we're just… made. And then sent off on assignments.”

“You must be terribly busy, just one person for all of earth.” If Alastor could pull some limbs and find out more from anyone but you, he would, but unfortunately no one but Vaggie would know anything about you and he had a feeling her time in heaven was never spent thinking about love. 

“Oh, actually not so much! When I’m with humans I can travel around without worrying about the concept of time at all. But it takes a toll.” Or so you were told. There were never two Cupids at one time so you couldn’t really ask your predecessors. Alastor’s brows rose, unsure how exactly a Cupid could be taxed if they didn’t feel pain and couldn’t be hurt. “Every trip to Earth weakens us. Until our bodies just, I guess, give out.” A smile crept across your face, unsure what expression you were supposed to be making.

“Is it just Earth? Or,” he lowered the radio volume with just a glance, “Every time you leave heaven?” It would take a great effort to not notice the weight suddenly blanketing the library. Silence was heavy with what he was really asking you. Would remaining here kill you?

It was a great question. Wow he’s really good at this. It almost seemed like he gave a shit. No one had ever asked you about your creation, about your work. It was nice. Even from him. Maybe especially from him.

You had never been to hell, so you couldn’t be sure, but, “I think it’s a human-world time-thing. But I guess we’ll find out!” Another misplaced smile before you awkwardly leaned back and picked up the book.

While you hadn’t noticed the slip up you had made, Alastor had. “I suppose we will.” 

You would find out, because you wouldn’t be returning to heaven. He was glad you, even if unconsciously, understood that. And perhaps you could live forever if you never returned to earth.

When the song ended, you offered one of your own. 

Alastor was pleasantly surprised to hear you request Nat King Cole’s ‘It’s almost like being in love’.

Standing, he offered you his hand for a dance. “Ugh I hate this cheesy shit.” You said it but stood anyway, putting your hands in his.

Alastor laughed, swaying side to side, “Not a fan of romance? Has Cupid never been in love?”

Those were two seperate things. How could you explain? “Drug dealers number one rule. Never get high off your own supply. That would be—.”

Lonely. Pathetic.

“A bad idea.” His cheek rested on your head. It was a shockingly tender act. “Can you understand? Why would I want something I made. What’s special about that?” 

“And what of true love? It isn’t made by you, yes?” Asked into your hair.

“Yeah but when will I ever find the time to make a connection worthwhile. Winners and Angels are gluttons for choice, I am obviously built for a fun time not a long time.” Which you were…fine with. Yeah. I mean, what choice did you have? “And I don’t want to force it…so…” you trailed off. The rest didn’t matter.

He nodded, suppressing another laugh.  “I see. Well, allow me to give you something you inspired, how about that? Not made. Would you say no, my muse?”

Inspired? Like a song? “Ha, what have I inspired in you, heathen.”

Alastor stopped dancing, his hand pulling your face up for a kiss which took you by surprise.

“Seriousl-,” Husk mercifully disappeared in a flash of neon green.

You couldn’t remember exactly how it happened, much like many of the moments you surrendered to Alastor. It was so fast and he was so strong, his hands large and confident in how they moved you. Before you knew it you were bent over the sofa’s arm getting fucked so hard your leg was shaking and your stomach nauseous.

This was much better than songs or art or whatever you inspired in others. You were gasping with every breath, the action somehow heightening the sensations. The little huffs and groans your body was pulling from him had your heart racing.

His cock was smashing your womb into your guts, the entire organ suddenly feeling like a new pleasure spot. Every jolt to your cervix made a novel kind of bliss pool in your stomach. 

You cried, head empty as he completely left your heat before bottoming out again, “Stop, Alastor. Stop.” A strained moan, hands gripping the wooden sofa arm, “stop, stop, fuuuuck.”

He was pulling out too far and too fast, hitting back too hard and too deep. Your cunt felt swollen around him, your entrance so soft and wet he didn’t need precision to sink back in.

“Does it hurt?” He said quickly on the down beat of his thrust.

“Nngh no.”

“Theeen, no.”

Alastor pulled you up by your chin, back bending as he titled your mouth to his. Despite your mouth hanging open with your tongue out as salacious as you’d ever been,  you told him, “I really don’t kiss during sex.” 

The look in his downcast eyes sent a shiver along your spine, a power there you couldn’t push against, “You do now, my dear.”

When in hell, you supposed. You didn’t even try to argue, accepting his tongue wrapping around yours and exploring your mouth while his dick churned up your insides. Full from top to bottom. Full of Alastor. Safe. Wanted. Needed. 

You pulled away when there was an overwhelming bone-deep sensation spilling through your hips and down your thighs. The muscles felt weak there, and you had an urge to runaway from it but Alastor held you still. 

A scream of ecstasy as both legs shook violently, you finally got your hands free orgasm but to your shock it didn’t stop. As it appeared to wane, it just started mounting again. By the third roll, Alastor came with a push so deep your chest fell over the arm of the sofa. If not for the hands bruising your hips, you would have fallen off entirely.

The ache in your stomach began immediately, you’d have thought someone had been punching you in the gut. Well, more literally than they had been. When you groaned and complained to Alastor about what he had done, he pulled you up by your waist.

You were drawn into him, back to his chest again with your body between those long legs. His hands came to your stomach. Alastor massaged deep circles into your abdomen. 

“Does that help?” His high voice lowered, husky and kind into your ear. You nodded, the pressure relieved the discomfort. 

You wondered if he was used to taller demons than your shorter heavenly form, or perhaps he wasn’t used to anyone at all. Maybe sinners had more room than you did. 

“I didn’t mean to hurt you. Believe it or not,” probably not, “I’m never trying to hurt you.”

Was it terrible you actually did believe him? Yes he was a serial killer, and considered one of the most cruel overlords in recent memory. But he was always gentle when his hands were on you. Flits of memories of him washing your feet came back to you. 

“I know perhaps,” his hands kept moving, your back already stuck to his with well earned sweat, “I have at times been easily incensed.”

You nodded quickly.

“But, It’s just,” you heard him swallow hard, “ah I absolutely hate this,” He whispered it to himself. “I’m just scared you’ll leave before I’ve managed to convince you how much happier I can make you here.”

It’s not that it was funny, necessarily, but the very idea hell could be happier than Heaven was laughable. It was Heaven. It was made to be happy.  It existed purely to please. 

The smile faded from your face. Well, for the winners. It was made to please the winners. It wasn’t made for you, but you still got much enjoyment. You had…sex. Great sex. Not held aloft in a radio tower great, but…You always came. Everyone did. Wasn’t that the point of it?

Wasn’t that the point?

What was the point?

 A warm and lonely bed is better than an empty one alone. So.

Well, your bed was always warm and never lonely in hell now that you’d been “moved”.

You had… Hobbies. You liked swimming. 

Okay well the hotel had a pool. And yes, if you weren’t running off to earth on command you’d have more energy for hobbies.

What were you thinking about this for again?

You gathered the scraps of your relevant thoughts, “Happiness isn’t being confined to a hotel, Alastor.”

“As soon as you show me you won’t leave me, I won’t care where you go. As long as you’re safe.” One of his hands left your stomach to stroke your cheek, “I’m just waiting for you to realize what I already know.”

If Alastor were to ease his grip on you, could you enjoy yourself? Well, more than you did. But it was more than that, you had to admit you hated the idea of losing, of just running away. “I don’t like giving up.” 

His laugh was quiet but it rocked you as his chest moved. “Darling they threw you to hell and told you you’re not allowed to leave unless you do homework. Giving up what? Being a servant to heaven?”

If he had said it a couple weeks prior, you would have left the room indignant. But now, settled against his hot skin and being so softly touched, it sounded like tough love.

“I don’t belong here though.” You were talking to yourself. So many excuses.

His arms wrapped around your chest to hug you into him, “You belong wherever I am.” His cheek pressed against yours, “I won’t let you go.”

A threat. A threat you leaned into and warmed yourself with. A threat a quiet part of you hoped he kept his word on.

You were getting too comfortable. Every morning you woke up to Alastor curled into your body, holding you tightly to him and you found yourself smiling before your consciousness clicked on. At some point in the last week he grabbed your chin and kissed you good night and suddenly every time he left your side you allowed a kiss to your cheek before he parted. What was worse was how you’d talk in bed about your recent reads and what happened the few hours you weren’t with each other. 

The thing that made you realize you were getting honestly too deep was when you went to go to bed early and actually took the elevator past your floor, walked all the way to his station and told him good night. You’d made it to his chair and were leaning down for your kiss when your face fell flat. 

He asked what was wrong but you shook your head. A poorly faked smile offered to him.

You sat in your bed. His bed. Your bed?

You sat in bed and wondered how to press forward. Two months, nearly, you’d been in hell. At this rate surely heaven had made a replacement. If you could make it back quickly you could still keep your place.

A decision was made, you’d never confronted Alastor head on. You had misunderstood his illusion of you. But maybe if you just forced it into his thick skull he’d been controlled and puppeted by an arrow, not his free will, he would abandon it to save his pride. 

Knees to your chest, why were you crying again? Did you want to go home?

No, you wanted to curl into his stupid fucking lap and listen to him hum his stupid old, forgotten songs. You wanted to dance while Husk groaned and rolled his eyes. You wanted to feel loved.

But you weren’t made to want things. And Alastor didn’t love you.

Okay, one more night to enjoy yourself before you pissed him off so much he kicked you out of his bed. Or took such a turn into obsession he never let you leave the room again, allowing you to shirk responsibility for not returning to heaven.

When you turned the handle there was resistance, the door pushing in. 

“Alastor? Done already?” He’d seemed busy earlier.

He closed the door and locked it. Oh. A blush. The sound of a locking door had come to mean certain things to you.

“You seemed bothered.” His thumb wiped where your tears had already dried, “What ever is the problem? Did someone upset you? Some neck I should wring?” You shook your head no. His other hand came to join in  holding your face, those goddamned red eyes melting you to nothing, “Some limbs I should snap?” He took a step toward you and you took two back, hands holding his wrists. Another no. “Or some cheeks I should kiss?”

Stop crying.

An eager nod. “Don’t cry, my love.” Soft lips catching your tears, thin fingers wiping them away. He kept walking forward and you kept walking back until your legs hit the bed. 

One more night, just in case. In case he forfeits the mania.

You kissed his neck, startling him. “Rare form. Did you need some more intimate attention, darling?” You tried to avoid initiating, never knowing what he wanted or when, never wanting to enjoy his touch too much. “I could indulge you.”

What you wanted was to be reduced so thoroughly to just a physical creature by way of pleasure that your mind disconnected from your brain. Fucked dumb, as people said. Alastor wouldn’t know what that meant but you were confident he’d enjoy sussing out the finer details of the meaning if it meant your full surrender.

You bit down on his neck, getting you pushed onto the bed in return. “I need overindulgence. I don’t wanna feel anything tonight but you.” You should practice your manners, for heaven's sake. “Please.”

There it was again. That look that turned your bones to jelly and your brain to cotton; that downcast half lidded stare as he towered over you that promised to devour you whole. His hand pulled at his bow tie and loosened his collar, knees on the bed as his legs spread you open at the thighs.

 “Good girl.”

No punishment or inspiration, just that mental numbness that turned off all your worries. We’re you making stupid faces? We’re your sounds embarrassing? Didn’t matter. You didn’t care. You clung to his body like you’d fall apart without his skin on yours. Because you would, in some fashion. 

Every gap between your bodies felt like room for doubt. So you filled them with flesh and sighs and moans. 

With his height difference you were smothered by him when in traditional heaven-approved missionary, but you liked lying on top. Your head only made it to his chest when your hips were positioned above his cock. You could go slack and let him move you on and off himself. You had been lying when you said you preferred to not move or make noise, but you’d learned he got harder and more feral when you let him manipulate your body any way he pleased. 

He smelled like sweat and leather, probably from the chairs in the lobby. No one sweats in heaven, this seemed like a mistake now. You’d have to be sure to not wash your clothes after you left hell, or else you’d forget his scent.

After finishing, he was surprised to find you still clinging to his torso, arms under his armpits and hooked onto his shoulders. He offered to pull out and let you lie down but you just held on tighter in response. He glanced around the room, soft light and softer music on the radio. Your quiver and bow rested against the armoire, practically dusty. He asked if you were alright, a hand coming to your back with large claws gently scratching.

“Yeah I will be.” you lifted your head, waiting.

Both of his eyebrows rose, unsure what you were waiting on.

Complete surrender. “Good night kiss.” You had to stretch to meet his lips before settling back into his chest, “okay bore me to sleep with your day, sinner.” He gladly did, you falling asleep yet again to the sound of his slow heartbeat and the rumble of his words.

You awoke nauseous, already knowing your day was going to fucking suck and it’d be your own fault. The idea of approaching Alastor and initiating the conversation felt impossible, your feet became stone when you thought of it.

The coward’s option. Wait for time alone and then pace the library until he came to find you.

After an hour or so he did, smile brightening as he entered. “Should I summon the bar?”

You shook your head no, struggling to speak. He sat in his chair, book still on the small side table.

Heart pounding, you considered doing this another day or week or maybe year but knew you’d already lost so much time. “Alastor, I need to talk to you about my task.”

He snapped the book shut, eyes not leaving his hands. “Oh?”

“I need to leave the hotel or at least need serious time alone with someone. I need to change someone’s heart on true love. I can’t go home—,” you were cut off, Alastor standing quickly.

“Home?”

“Alastor.” You stood your ground even as his spine stretched and antlers widened.

“Your home is wherever I am.” A pained smile now, something akin to hurt in his eyes that did damage to you too. “Ah. So last night— and people say I’m cruel.”

“I’m not supposed to be here!”

A snap, his anger and desperation eclipsing his pain, “Why don’t you ever listen-,”

Your turn to cut him off, “Because you’re under a spell! You act so fucking tough like you’re in control all the time. But you’re not! It’s just the effect of the arrow.”

He laughed, but you kept going, “Don’t act like you’re sooo strong you can fight the effects of my shot. You don’t fucking love me. Not really, not naturally. It was an accident. You’re just— it’s been made by me. I don’t want it. I want something real and true.”

“My feelings are true, just let me speak. I can make you understand if you’d just listen to me.” Pupils like pins, teeth somehow sharper.

“Alastor you can’t have true love. Nothing triggered by my arrows can ever be true.”

Another ring of laughter, “Tell me then how your true love is different than mine, Oh Wise Cupid.”

You huffed, “Don’t talk down to me, radio demon. True love means caring deeply for someone else that occupies your heart and mind-,” he opened his mouth, looking around the room for where you found the audacity but you snapped twice to get his attention back, “not just that! You put them first without fear because if they truly love you they would never take advantage of that. It’s trusting them with the most fragile parts of yourself. It's a best friend. Someone who makes you feel like a better version of you, makes you want to always be improving yourself.”

Alastor was still smug, staring at you from his unnervingly demonic height, “Lovely! Last question, expert, is true love ever one sided?”

You thought for a beat, “It can be.”

He hummed, body swiftly resuming his smaller but, again, still too tall scale, antlers remaining fierce as his sinister smile dropped to just a small upward turn of his lips. “I see. You’ve truly enlightened me. I believe you.” The sarcasm wasn’t lost on you.

You rolled your eyes and licked your lips to go off when a portal opened beside you.

Heaven was just beyond the shining circle.

You looked from Alastor to the circular doorway, taking small steps towards it. Your hand pressed through, confusion wiping your own smugness off your face.

Alastor began a mocking slow clap. “I’ve been convinced. Happy now? Task complete.”

“But- the love Mania causes…It clouds the mind, you can’t even process the idea of true love properly.” You searched the floor for some clarity.

His hands stopped, eyebrows meeting his bangs as a laugh that started typically but quickly morphed into maniacal filled the room. You just kept pushing your hand in and out of the portal. Alastor finally quieted, antlers fully drawn back into little prongs. He stared at you. A shiver as his smile reached his ears. That look again. You took a deep breath, ready to be eaten.

“Your little arrow didn’t pierce me, you glorious fool. It literally fell into my pocket. I was never under the effects of your magic. I said that many times.” He straightened out his suit jacket,  “Very plainly, might I add. You just never listened to me. So sure you knew better than I did.”

You sputtered, too many thoughts trying to express themselves, “Why did you act like that then?!”

“Because I wanted you. Something something first sight, as I recall the adage goes.” He crossed his arms and looked at his claws, “Perhaps my love happens to be manic by default. I am a murderous overlord, darling.”

All the energy left your body, shoulders relaxing. “Oh.” 

“So, here I am,” he opened his arms, “trusting you to not hurt me any further today. Does that fall into your narrow view of true love?”

A good question. You shifted your weight onto your other foot, looking back at heaven. You could see the shining gates.

He sighed and brought his arms down, “I can’t promise how long I’ll let you stand there and look at anything other than me.”

A warning.

A deep breath, another shift onto your other foot again as you shook the anxiety out of your hands before finally making eye contact with him, “Well, eldritch horror, prove it.”

You heard the door lock from across the room. 

You decided heaven could wait. It took about two days before they seemed to notice you hadn’t entered the portal, which closed on its own some time between Alastor pushing you onto the floor and you begging him for more. Luckily St. Peter wasn’t privy to your escapades.

It was a fact Sera was aware you had completed your task, because a knock came to the library door on that second day after you did so. Entering without waiting for a reply, which was brave, Lucifer and his hat popped into the room.

“Heeeey giiiirl. I got a message from heaven asking what’s the hold up, worried you were incapacitated.”

From your seat in Alastor’s lap you lowered your book, “How nice of them to suddenly care about my well-being.” You brought the book back up, “Little late.”

He nodded, “Uh huh, uh huh. Yeah I can understand that. Sooo,” his fingers tapped the door, “What should I reply with?”

Alastor turned the page and hummed a reply, “Finders Keepers.”

ᡣ𐭩ˋ°•*⁀➷ masterlist

∰ Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult (general tag list):

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @wettiny-in-smutland , @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog , @coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum ,

@ivebeenthearchersstuffn, @rubyninja1 , @simphornies , @alleystore , @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog , @thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies , @howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , @ive-no-idea-what-to-call-this , @fizzled-phoenix , @fjorjestertealeaf , @phobophobular , @surusurusuru , @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 , @whateverlololo , @simplyonehellofanotaku , @xixflower , @i-am-nonbinary-bean-deal-with-it , @roxxie-wolf , @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 , @watereddownmilk , @raynerrold , @crazii-saber-wolf , @valkyrie-expeditions , @bontensbabygirl , @sillyb0nez , @oo0lady-mad0oo , @jazzmasternot , @pseudobun , @fraugwinska✨, @alitaar , @straows , @alastorssimp , @angelicwillows , @b-o-n-e-daddy , @one-and-only-tay , @asleeponelmstreet , @tremendoushearttaco , @mutifandomkid , @sapphirecaelis , @itzzzkiramylove  @saccharine-nectarine , @viannasthings , @looking1016 , @ultimate-duck-king-lucifer , @blakeaha , @astraechos , @reath-solia ,

🏹Alastor stalkers: @celestial-vomit , @amurtan

@faeoffaith , sailorsmouth , @jeannyjaykaydeh , @jyoongim , @cosmic-lavender , @saturn-alone , @lustylita , @radio-darling , @kaylopolis , @dickmastersworld , @leviskittywh0re

@asianfrustration13 @alittletiredcry @sirens-and-moonflowers @alastorssimp

@sugurubabe , @zzzykiek , @phamtasic

#alastor smut #alastor #alastor x you #hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin alastor #alastor x reader smut

[myheadphonesareneverloudenough]

Thinking about how Matt Lang mentioned rerunning TGWDLM.

Obviously, there'd have to be changes. Not just in the casting, but in every aspect of the show just due to the nature of how Hatchetfield has expanded and how TGWDLM has aged.

Now that we know for sure that the events in TGWDLM happened because of Pokey, I think they'd design the show even more around the colour blue instead of green like in the original promotional material. This also gives Matt Dahan so much more to work with when it comes to underscoring, think of all the motifs he has to sneak into the scenes now.

Hidgens would have to be recasted, and while there's plenty of options, I think after Workin' Boys he has to be played by Jeff Blim. I don't know if anyone can ever top what Jeff did in WB. Of course, that would mean that Jeff's original TGWDLM characters would need to be recasted as well. Mr. Davidson has not been seen in HF since TGWDLM (save for the small BF cameo), so it wouldn't be hard to find someone new for that role. Sam Sweetly is more difficult because of his appearances in Nightmare Time and the pre-recorded NPMD cameo, but it's impossible to have Jeff play both Hidgens and Sam in the same scene so he would still most likely be recasted.

The only Jeff character that would need to stay the same is General John Macnamara, that's another permanently Jeff character, in my opinion. The show would require some rearranging so that the Macnamara and Hidgens scenes weren't back to back this way. Between TGWDLM and BF, Macnamara went through a lot of character development and Jeff really discovered who he was by the second show, so it would be super interesting to see him interacting with Paul again now that we've learned so much more about the guy.

Now that Hatchetfield has expanded so much, I think it would be really fun to bring in new characters that we've met since TGWDLM happened. They should include Curt Mega as Officer Bailey in Show Me Your Hands, since we know he canonically works alongside Sweetly. Bring in James Tolbert during the PEIP scene as Xander Lee. Even just the people on the streets in La Dee Dah Dah Day, imagine the amount of cameos that could come into play there. Kim Whalen dances in as Becky Barnes, Angela Giarratana is Grace Chasity, all these well-known characters that we never saw during TGWDLM before making small appearances as they were already infected by the hive mind.

Speaking of the La Dee Dah Dah Day number, it would be fucking awesome to get Joey Richter back in the Pete Spankoffski costume for the coffee shop scene to do the hot chocolate boy bit.

I also just think a new perspective on the show will change so much of the context. Like Emma discussing Jane, we now know Jane's family with Tom and Tim. We're now very familiar with Ted's little brother, a character we had no idea existed during TGWDLM (think about Ted's little freak out over Alice being dead at Hatchetfield High...). We had no idea that this apocalypse was brought on by one of the Lords in Black.

Anyways. I agree with Matt, they should definitely bring The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals back for another run of the show.

#j screams #another tumblr rant when i could be doing something productive #starkid #hatchetfield #the guy who didn't like musicals

[simpjaes]

mtl corruption kink? 🥹🥹

hyung line + corruption kink

★ heeseung:

wants a girl who has no fucking idea what she's doing and no idea what sex is supposed to be like specifically so he can train into into the little sex puppet he's always wanted. given, you'd probably enjoy every second of it, he'd make sure of that. any pain will always be met with equal pleasure, and he'd never actually hurt you or act like he doesn't love you even for a second. it's just...upon learning how innocent and untouched you truly were, how could he resist? And you'd do so well too, molding into exactly what he wants, to the point he'd probably never leave you out of fear that you'd moan like this, or move like this, for someone that isn't him.

☆ sunghoon:

sooooooo gentle but so fucking cocky. he'd love to have a girl so innocent and sweet, whether she's had sex or not. sure, sunghoon looks vanilla but he is so, so, so far from it and showing you the ropes regarding the world of kinks is nothing but a pleasure and need at this point for him. to see your eyes glisten through an orgasm you didn't even realize was bubbling up? yeah, baby, fuck yeah. i think he'd probably be less aggressive than heeseung, but with his corruption would come a lot of degrading comments before the praises. like "fuck, you sure you don't know what you're doing? look at you take it." while he's training your needy pussy to take way more than in comfortable, followed by a "so good baby, just a bit more, you can handle it, right?"

★ jake:

have you seen this mf? sure, i would love to think he's just a stammering and shy puppy boy that would prefer to be corrupted himself but this is jake. the fucking jake sim, who would probably not realize he's corrupting you until the pretty girl who choked on just half of his cock is suddenly taking all of it and deep-throating like a champ. it's just who he is, any girl that gets his cock out, innocent or not, learns how to fuck it just because he's so goddamn hot and being the person he gives his cum to is something anyone would beg for. additionally, he's definitely the type to go fast, deep, and hard without realizing. so yeah, the corruption would be entirely accidental but goddddddamn would he find it so hot realizing how much you've turned into a cum-slut for him.

☆ jay:

nah mf, you gotta corrupt him. does he need it? no. jay knows very well what he's doing when it comes to a pussy but having a more experienced woman show off her skills on him and play along with his fake ass little "idk what to do" vibe is something he'd probably cum to death for. sure, he breaks character mid-fuck and takes over, asking you to call your pretty subby boi "daddy" and demanding that you admit to liking it more when he's stretching you out knowingly. idk, i think he's the switch of all switches. Loves being called "baby", loves calling his girl "baby. Loves even more when you call him" daddy" like you didn't just ride him into fucking oblivion while he whimpered and begged for it. [im not biased at all fr]

#enhypen smut #heeseung smut #sunghoon smut #sim jaeyun smut #park jongseong smut #sim jake smut #jongseong smut #jay smut #enhypen hard hours #hardthots

[dark-and-kawaii]

༺ 𝒯𝒾𝑒𝒻𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝐻𝑒𝒶𝒹𝒸𝒶𝓃𝑜𝓃𝓈 ༻

Just some random headcanons I have for my three favorites, Zevlor, Dammon, and Rolan!! I hope you enjoy these!

Fluff - NSFW

- 𝒵𝑒𝓋𝓁𝑜𝓇 -

Our soft sweet man is just such a softie in bed.

Zevlor is so afraid of hurting you while bedding you, he absolutely hesitates at first asking you if you're sure, if this is really okay, that he's not worth your time, and that he’s afraid you’ll get hurt.

You'll definitely have to be the one to initiate the relationship, and you're 100% going to need to be the one who initiates sex.

Loves when you rake your nails gently down his sides and won't stop you from playing with his tail... He gets really flustered when you go for his tail during sex. The way he moans as you rub your hand over the tip of his tail causes him to groan and moan, Zevlor tries to bite back the sound but at times it's hard to contain such noises.

This isn't a boy, this is an absolute man. Degrading nicknames are pretty much off the table for him simply because he has so much respect for you. Now you could probably convince him to say a few things here and there, but it's so out of character for him and he never thought his red skin could get much redder until you get him to call you his "whore". Zevlor will always tell you afterwards, “You know i didn’t mean that, correct? I would never look at you in such a way.”

He loves you and he wants you to know that, Zevlor never wants you to feel like an object. To him you are his person, his life partner who helped him save his people and defenseless children.

Oh gods, if you helped him keep the children safe that alone makes him view you in such a bright light. He loves kids and the thought of having his own has crossed his mind more than he'd like to admit.

Holding you in his arms is something he cherishes deeply, he worries it might be the last everytime so he always gives you one last tight, but soft, squeeze. It's almost like he's memorizing the feeling of your body against his.

Loves to pepper you with kisses while on top of you! Every time he finishes he brings his head up to look at you with a tender smile before saying, "I love you."

Whether it's after a passionate moment, or simply going to sleep this man will wrap his tail around your thigh. If Zevlor is spooning you he will drape his tail over your hip or legs. Not only does this comfort him but it also reassures him that he's not alone anymore and that he has someone to protect other than his people.

Zevlor will always sleep on the side closest to any door or cave entrance; that way he can be the first they attack, giving you time to escape. He's incredibly selfless.

This man gets incredibly worried if you come back to him with an injury of any kind! He might even scold you, “What were you thinking?!” Will tend to your wounds like a professional -he’s done this several times thanks to being a hellrider-, and once he’s done wrapping you he’ll hold your hand begging you to be more careful next time.

- 𝒟𝒶𝓂𝓂𝑜𝓃 -

Is so awkward at first, like oh my god he is so awkward if he has a crush on you. Will hold your hand and just kinda shake it before letting it go.

Blushing and hiding his face is something that happens if you walk over to him just to admire his work.

He has a few moods in bed, soft, rough, and playful. Our incredibly handsome blacksmith has a dirty book stashed in his house so like common we all know he’s into some freaky stuff.

Will lift you in his arms before either tossing you on his bed or laying you down gently, always expect a kiss on your neck once he’s back on top of you.

If you don’t grab his horns while you two are connected he’s going to be disappointed, won’t ever say anything to you about it, but he loves when you play with them or use them as leverage while riding him.

I definitely like to think Dammon is an expert at shibari, so expect to be tied up. I think deep down he’d love to have you tied up while he works, teasing you every so often until he’s finished the sword he’s been working hard on.

Likes to graze your skin with his sharp teeth and nails, he loves the way you shiver in response.

Tail play? Absolutely a thing with our babe Dammon. He will tease your slit and clit with his tail and if you’re slick enough he’ll slowly push it inside you. He won’t ever purposely try to hurt you and if you wince the slightest he’ll withdraw his tail and apologize. Only when you’re comfortable enough will he try again.

Likes to wrap his tail around you in general. Dammon loves it when you visit him while he’s working because he knows you’ll come from behind to hug him and his tail just naturally curls around you.

He’s a tail guy, it's hard for him to control his tail at times but if he’s happy you’ll know not only because of his eyes but also his tail.

If you’re a tiefling expect his tail to be entwined with your own.

Coming back to him with an injury is something he never likes to witness. It hurts him, like it really hurts him. He isn’t some hellrider or fighter like you or zevlor, he’s just a simple blacksmith who isn’t that strong on the battlefield -we all saw that 8 HP-. So how in the hells is he supposed to keep you safe, even when he thinks he’s made the toughest armor and you still come back with a wound… Oh gods it kills him. He feels like he failed you and failed as a blacksmith.

Dammon will always want to tend to your wounds, it's the least he could do since he feels so crummy about it. Will get as gentle as he can be, he’s pretty quiet during the process and you’ll be the one asking him what's wrong. He’ll sigh and pause momentarily until he tells you what's going through his mind. A simple caress to his cheek is all it takes for him to smile at you before placing a kiss where he just patched up.

No doubt Dammon wants kids, plural. I think he’d like at least three children, the gender doesn’t even matter so long as they’re all healthy :,)

- 𝑅𝑜𝓁𝒶𝓃 -

This bitch, this stubborn, high maintenance tiefling, GOD I LOVE HIM.

Let’s get one thing straight, he prefers to be on the bottom.

Rolan doesn’t mind being on top but he much rather you do the work so he can watch your hips grind down on him. Loves to admire your body, like he really likes to admire you. You’re the most stunning female he’s ever met, won’t tell you that of course, but he thinks it every single time you’re on top of him.

Doesn’t like quickies, sex is a form of art to him and he likes to take his time and be one with you. He didn’t pick you to be his because he wanted to get off quickly, he chose you because he loves you and likes to be in your presence. That’s a rare thing for him and he intends to take advantage of that.

There’s only one place he likes a good quickie and that’s when he’s at Sorcerous Sundries. It’s also when he takes the most control, pinning you against that bookshelf he was just rifling through, the books falling off the shelves, it’s chaotic but he surprisingly doesn't mind it.

Something Rolan really enjoys is when he’s reading a new book and you come to him wanting to be in his lap. He used to find it obnoxious and would tell you that he’s busy, but when you stopped your attempts it made him feel strange… He never had a family besides his siblings, what if he becomes the reason you run off… The thought of you abandoning him because of his attitude pushed him to start asking you if you’d like to sit in his lap while he studies. Rolan still found it infuriating at first, but the more he allowed it the more he started to enjoy it. Now he finds himself holding you as if you’d vanish with one arm, his hand always resting at your thigh or the small of your back with his book in the other all while smiling pleasantly.

Has zero interest in kids, like it's going to take some convincing -even then good luck-. I can only assume he had a rough upbringing and I'm also assuming he was abandoned by his biological family. This has left a sour taste in his mouth when it comes to kids. “We have a perfectly good life now, why ruin it with a whiny one?”

Coming home with an injury??? Yeah you better expect, no you already know you wont hear the end of it. He’ll mock you for wanting to be the hero again and tell you how incredibly stupid it was of you to run off defending others when you should be more worried about yourself.

As he bandages your arm it's quiet, the only noise coming from the crackling fire. You’re silent, not wanting to speak with him after he berated you. Rolan is the one to speak up, telling you that he just worries. Its rare to see him with his walls down, even after being in a relationship for so long, but he breaks the walls as he stands to look at his bandage work. “You, Cal, and Lia are all i have… Please, don’t try something like this again. For my sake.” You aren’t sure what to say, he’s never sounded so hurt, so vulnerable. It’s the perfect time to tease him, “Are you getting sentimental on me?” He’ll just glare at you telling you to shush and to go get some rest.

Enjoys watching you, Cal, and Lia getting along. While you three joke and have your arms over one another’s shoulders while cheersing, Rolan can’t stop smiling. As soon as you turn around though his smile fades and he tells all three of you, “you’re all idiots, honestly.”

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 zevlor #baldurs gate 3 zevlor #Zevlor #zevlor x tav #Dammon #dammon bg3 #dammon x tav #bg3 rolan #rolan #rolan x tav #zevlor x reader #dammon x reader #rolan x reader

[kyunzin]

𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐦𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲

✰ characters ✰ 𝐘. 𝐄𝐫𝐞𝐧

✰ summary ✰ don’t say things you don’t mean, unless you do mean them. in that case eren can fulfil all your requests (f!reader)

✰ tags/warnings ✰ nsfw, ex!eren, alcohol use, degradation, spanking, daddy kink, cum eating, squirting. praise kink, overstimulation, pussy licking

✰ kyun’s note ✰ it’s been long overdue, two long fics in a row is tough gang dont do this at home. also sorry for any spelling mistakes i am sleep derived

it was definitely a good idea to go out with the girls

it was probably a bad idea to not send eren home with all the drinks you had earlier clouding your judgment

it was absolutely going to hurt in the morning but that is the last thing that's on your mind right now it will be a problem for later

you and eren had gotten together in high school and stayed together for the duration of high school. the both of you being fairly well known though he was more popular than you were.

the both of you had different passions and wanted to peruse different careers. him wanting to play basketball professionally and you didn’t really want to have a boring 9-5 either so you chose to be an influencer.

you both supported each other and both of you became very successful in what you did. eren signing with a good team and you having nearly up to a million followers. you made sure to go to every one of his games and he would be sure to mention you on his socials and even point to you at games.

the two of you even had a child together who both of your fans adored. you had him early in both of your careers and had enough money to support him growing up, the two of you thought that you would be able to live the rest of your lives as a family.

that was until about 4 years later when eren’s schedule became to hectic and he spent more time practicing and being out of the country for games to even be home with you, there was a gradual build up to that which you thought you could get through but in the end you realised it was too much for you and he accepted that.

in the end the both of you decided to spilt apart as is was just too much on you. both of your fan bases were sad to see their favourite couple break apart but you assured them that it was mutual and the two of you ended on good terms, deep down you still loved him but you let him go knowing it was for the better.

eren always made sure to send money to support both him and you even though you told him that he didnt need to send you money as well. he also did regular calls to check in to see how the both of you were doing, and when he was back in the country he made sure to see you if he could spending time with his son and even you.

you know he loved his son from the way he would always get souvenirs from countries when he was out and even got some jerseys from his sons favourite players even if he did pout complaining because he wasn’t his favourite.

this went on for about a year and it worked really well for the three of you, your sons fifth birthday passed with eren doing his all to be there buying him an expensive gift that your son absolutely loved. eren had lately had been spending more time over due to the season, there not being a lot of games and you decided you wanted to go out since it had been a while.

eren has said he would take care of your son while you went out with your friends saying that you deserved the time to have fun. he took your son over to his house so that you could get ready in peace telling you he would keep him for the weekend so you could relax.

once the both of them had left the house you called both sasha and mikasa telling them the plans and they decided to come over to help you get ready. they arrived soon with their things and the three of you started to get ready.

you had your hair and make up done all that was left was your outfit. you had no idea what to wear as it had been a long time since you had gotten dressed up like this, the girls made their way to you closet and started picking through your stuff looking for something for you to wear.

being pregnant had made big changes to you body which left you feeling less than confident after your giving birth but as the years went by some changes left and some stayed. for one your tits and ass filled out as well as you hips getting wider giving you a near hourglass figure.

you were pretty self conscious about your body but everyone around you encouraged you to embrace your new body as they said it made you look sexy and you believed them, looking at yourself differently you loved your new self.

the girls had picked out a dress you don’t even remember buying. a long-sleeve red dress that stopped just under you ass with red cross slits trailing down the side exposing some skin. you paired it with a classic set of black heels and a red bag to match.

the other two were also ready when you had finished getting dressed so you made sure you had everything you needed and sasha drove you to the club blasting music all the way there.

you got into the flub with no problem all of you being over the required age and the three of you went to get drinks to start your night off, weaving your way through the bustling crowd and over to the bar where you all order your first round of drinks keeping you tab open just in case you want to get more.

you and mikasa take a few more shots sasha only having a few being your designated driver for the night not that she really needed any as she would be asked to have just as much fun either way. after you finished your drinks the three of you moved over into the dancing crowd losing yourselves to the music.

you swung your body to the beat of the music sasha in front and mikasa behind you, your as shaking with every sway of your hips. you could tell that many men wanted to join you but you could see both of the girls pushing the away as they know about your lingering feelings for eren.

the song changes and you recognise it as ‘mad at me by sexxy red’ realising that you know the lyrics and you start singing it along with the others in the room, knowing it lyric for lyric shaking your ass to the beat people around you dancing to the music.

when the next line come on you shout it out like there's no tomorrow “fuck me like you mad at me baby, I need a freak to drive me crazy!” and you sing the rest of the song with the same passion until it finishes and you’re out of breath.

the next song plays and you feel all the energy you had from before now depleted and decide to go pay for your last drink of the night leaving sasha and mikasa on the dance floor.

it didn’t take long for you to reach the bar and pay but on your way back to the girls some one stopped you trying to pull you for a dance. but you quickly pushed them away not in the mood walking to your friends even faster.

you get to the girls in record speed in no time though all the remaining energy you had no completed, the girls notice this and decide it’s time for you all to go home.

you drip mikasa home first knowing she has to go to bed for work in the morning. and then sahsa takes you back to your house with you dozing off on the way back. you didn’t even realise that you had faleen asleep until you felt sasha gently shake you awake.

thanking her for the ride home you wish her a safe journey back walking up to your front door, stumbling on the short walk due to the alcohol still flowing in your system. checking the time to see that it was almost past midnight and you know that your son should have gone to bed ages ago feeling bad that you couldn’t tell him goodnight.

when you walk in it takes a while for your eyes to adjust to the light which you were sure you turned off when you left, squinting only to see a figure sitting on the couch. you take off your heels setting them to the side and look up to see the figure still there.

once your eyes get accustomed to the light you realise that’s it’s eren sitting there who has been sitting there staring up at you since you walked in, and you think maybe you’re just hallucinating from the alcohol in your system but upon further inspection you realise that he’s actually there.

“eren? what are you doing here? where’s my baby?”

for a second he doesn’t say anything and just eyes you up but then he speaks up.

“c’mere here baby”

the space between you brows crease at the pet name but you move towards him nonetheless, coming to stand up in from of him looking down at him.

“I dropped him off at my mums place, don’t worry about him for now”

he gently pulls you down to straddle you making your dress ride up a little bit, leaving the two of you face to face. you don’t instantly question his actions but your face conveys your confusion, but instead of saying anything he just sits there rubbing slowly up and down your thighs spread over him.

“what’s going on, is something wrong?”

but instead of answering your question he laughs and pulls out his phone swiping though as if looking for something.

“how about you tell me what this is about first”

you’re confused at first but then once the video starts playing your eyes widen in shock. it’s a video of you in the club singing to “mad at me” shouting the lyrics to the song.

“wanna explain this to me”

he’s still smiling as he says it and you know there's no way to get out of this. there's no possible excuse he would believe after seeing that, which brings up the question of where he got it from.

“who took this video and how do you have it”

he turns off his phone slipping it back into his joggers the action causing you to shift in too of him, your hands coming to rest on his shoulders as to not fall off him.

“it was posted online and someone sent it to me, and don't try change the subject. what’s this about you wanting to fuck. if you wanted some dick all you had to do was say so princess. you know i never say no to you baby”

in truth it had been a while since you were active, though it was mainly because of your lack of time due to taking care of you son as well as working.

part of it had to do with the fact that no dock would be able to compare to eren's. the way he would fuck you was to good for you to ever try it with anyone else.

you had kind of missed this intimate part of your relationship, you knew eren wasn’t the type of guy to sleep around and you are sure if he did you would have found out by now and you didn’t want to seem to desperate by asking him about his life without you as you respected his privacy as he did yours.

“why you silent for pretty, aint got nothing to say or did you really mean what you said. what was it again, you wanted me to fuck you like I was mad at you cause I can do that baby if it’s what you want, do you want that?”

as you contemplate your answer you notice his hands don’t stop but smile drops a serious look falls over his face. he probably knows that your drunk and no os giving you a way out of this.

knowing him if you said no he would step back and act as if it didn’t happen. the thing is that you do want this to happen, maybe it’s the alcohol or the fact that you’re just really pent up and horny but you don’t see a reason to decline his offer.

you nod your head to agree but he doesn’t seem satisfied with that hands stopping to grip at your thighs squeezing them lightly.

“no princess, I need words. you say yes we continue. say no and I’ll take you to bed and go back home, answer me properly”

knowing this is your last chance to back out you appreciate his efforts in order to confirm your consent and it just gives you even more reason to say yes, knowing that he’s being respectful even though he couldn’t have done what he wanted knowing you have no way of defending yourself in this state.

“yes eren, I want this. I want you. fuck me please, i need you“

you hardly have time to register what’s happening before he’s lifting you up and making his way to your old shared bedroom. you wrap you legs around his firm torso and cling onto him tighter, even though you know that there no way he will drop you.

“only since you asked me so nicely, I’ll give you what you need don’t worry baby”

the two of you reach the bed room in record speed and eren gently sets you down on the edge of the bed kneeling down in front of you both of his hands still on the side of your thighs looking up at you with a mischievous grin.

his mouth latches onto you barely clothed sex sucking on your clit in a way that has you gasping out in ecstasy. it’s no lie to say that eren knows every inch of your body inside and out. he knows all the things that make you squirm and scream. where to touch and lick as well as h to e spots indie you that make your arch into his touch.

he moves on from sucking on your clit like a mad man thirsting for water and moves down to you dripping whole, sinking his tongue into your tight heat that hadn’t had any attention for a while. not that there weren’t a few visits from your bullet vibrator it just couldn’t make you cum the way you did when eren would fuck you.

“fuck, she really missed me didn’t she ma?”

the way he’s talking to your pussy has you rolling your eyes, but they then roll for a different reason as he adds one finger teasing his way inside of you alongside his hot tongue. “oh fuck, ‘ren don’t stop please” your hand reaches for his head gripping his hair causing it to fall loose as you pull his face further into your cunt.

both his tongue and fingers pistoling into you at a harsh pace so he not surprised when you end up cumming into his mouth as he starts to suck on your clit. he doesn’t stop scissoring his fingers inside you until you stop cumming and your moans die out, though your legs still tremble slightly due to the force of your orgasm.

“we aint done yet princess, you said you wanted to be fucked right and that’s what you’ll get. flip over”

you may be a bit drunk but that doesn’t stop you from turning over at the speed of light making you a bit lightheaded but you do regret it as you miss when eren pulls of his top and steps out his trousers and boxers, kneeling back behind you slapping his cock against your ass cheeks.

“you ready for me baby?”

he watches as you nod your head eagerly and lines his cock up with your pussy sliding in with predicted ease, filling out all the way to the hilt. both of you let out moans of pleasure “fuck- I missed you” you’re not sure if he’s talking to you or your pussy but you’re to full and stretched out to care. it would be an understatement to say that you also missed the fill of his cock. it was more like the longer you were apart the more you craved to feel him.

he was feeling sympathetic knowing that it had been a while since you had fuck him, or anyone for that matter, but when you start to rock back into him letting out small mewls of pleasure he decides not to hold back. “such a desperate whore, you cant wait to fuck yourself on my cock huh?” his words are accompanied by a hard slap to your ass causing your movements to stagger with a loud moan of “f-fuck, you’re taking too long”

he lets you move as you please for a few more moments before growing impatient and gripping your waist slamming his hips into yours. “d-daddy- fuckk!” you cant see it but you can hear the smirk as he says “you like it when daddy fucks you like this don’t you?” as he sends another harsh thrust you way, rocking the bed with the force of his thrust.

he continues with his timely thrust with the occasional slap to your ass, oscillating between that or squeezing it in both hands and playing with the fat. he can feel the way you clam down on him when he does that, knowing your body inside and out plays well in is favour, not so much in yours.

he spares no energy with is thrusts as he knows you like it when he's rough with you, fucking you into the soft sheets wit vigour, deep strokes hitting your cervix every time, the tip brushing against your sweet spot on every quick roll of his hips.

he's not surprised when he begins to hear your familiar slurred pleas of " daddy please. 's too much. slow down" to which he does the opposite and uses one and to steady your waist and the other one to hold your neck keeping your back arced "remember, you asked for this princess," your unable to move, sheets bunched up in your hands, hips held high by him, face pressed into the bed.

"made it loud and clear waat you wanted and now im giving it to you"

the slick sounds of sex circulate the room, your nonsensical moans bouncing off the walls in the room along with his skin slapping against yours as he hammers is cock into your dripping pussy. "since you asked for it m sure you can take it like a good girl cant you? noting you havent done before"

you can feel is cock start to pulse inside you and you know that he's close , and you're on the verge of release, with the way eren's pounding into you you doubt you'll be able to last much longer as well as the fact that its been ages since your last fuck, which was eren.

"next time you want something, just fucking ask"

the last three words of his sentence are each punctuated with a harsh trust, sending you over the edge as you begin to squirt all over is cock and onto the sheets below you. he can feel the way your pussy spasms around is cock as he fucks you through your orgasm, slowing down to ease you through it.

"that's it cum on daddy's cock, its all fucking yours baby, nobody can have me but you"

its only a couple more languid trusts until he's spilling is hot seed inside you with a groan of your name on his lips, hips stuttering as his grip tightens enough in a way you're sure will leave marks in the morning, body doubling over your trembling frame while he locks his hips with yours, emptying is tick load deep into your pussy.

only wen he's sure that there's no more does e finally pull out of your near limp body and gently rolls you over onto your back. peppering kisses down your torso till he settles between your legs were he begins to suck the cum out of you, causing your legs to clam around is head.

"nononono- fuck. i cant, s too much no more."

he's relentless not stopping even as your and tug at his air, pushing is tongue deep into your pussy and licking your mixed juices out of you. "just one more baby, i know you can give it to me" he's not wrong as only a second after he presses his thumb to your clit, you're cumming for the third time that evening shaking in is hold.

after tat e makes sure to clean you out as best as he can, dressing you into comfortable clothes. after cleaning himself he carries you to the guest bedroom and tucks you in deciding to leave until you reach out to him pulling him back.

he ends up wit is arms wrapped around you and your head tucked underneath is, drifting into a deep sleep. you're sure that in the morning the two of you will have a lot of things to talk about.

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - 𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐍

#✰𝐊𝐘𝐔𝐍 𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐒✰ #eren x black reader #eren smut #eren aot #eren x reader #eren yeager #eren jaeger x reader #aot smut #aot #black y/n #black reader #black women #eren yaeger smut #eren jaeger smut #eren jaeger #eren x you #eren x black fem!reader #aot x black y/n #aot x reader #aot x black reader #aot x y/n #aot x you #aot x female reader

[hazbin-a-helluvamagines]

How bout angel dust, Verosika and Alastor with a puppy hybrid s/o? Like, they have puppy ears and tail and has some dog like tendencies?

For example: they love to bite and play with dog toys,they bark and growl, they LOVE headpats and being called "good boy/girl"

You can remove 2 characters if it's too much.

"Good Puppy!" ; Alastor, Angel Dust, Verosika Mayday

I'll be honest here: I have no idea how you got this to happen, because this man absolutely HATES dogs, and therefore hated you when he first met you. And he's honestly quite possibly the worst one to be with as a puppy hybrid.

He was exceptionally cruel, calling you a "mangey mongrel", a "rabid mutt", and just about any cruel name for a dog under the sun.

Will try to make you act more human. He'd despise your dog features. Dogs remind him of his death, and that's something he'd rather not deal with.

If you've managed to start dating him, he'll be slightly more polite, but still make his distaste for those features very apparent to you.

"S/O, must you constantly be wiggling that furry abomination?"

It isn't that he means to be mean, but, well, in some primal way, you scare him, and he doesn't know how to cope with feeling that helpless.

If you growl or bark at him, you will ROYALLY piss him off, and he will actually need to leave to avoid either lashing out at you or having a mental breakdown.

Fortunately, with enough time and patience, he will eventually calm down and begin to regard you as safe, and not someone he needs to fear. Then he'll become noticeably kinder to you.

"Well, aren't you just a dandy little pup! Excited to see me, hm? Such a good boy/girl~."

He may have started off cold, but he's trying to be better for you now.

He isn't sure how he feels about dog toys and the like, but hey, he's a literal cannibal and serial killer, who is he to judge? As long as you're having fun.

Eventually, he'll begin to give you those headpats you so crave, realizing how happy it makes you. He can stand a bit of discomfort for your sake.

But seriously... please don't bark or growl at him, he still doesn't like the moment of panic he's forced to feel when that happens.

He wouldn't do it to you, so don't do it to him. That's his one boundary with your dog-like behavior/appearance.

Oh boy. He'd be the one constantly flirting and teasing you for your traits, but in a loving (and very NSFW) manner.

"What's with the tail, Ears? Got a pet play kink or somethin'?"

When he finds out you ACTUALLY enjoy being called a good boy, that actually sets off every single one of his teasing instincts.

Every single day, you'll hear a joke about you having a praise kink, purely because it makes Angel laugh.

But he's only teasing, of course. If you actually tell him you're uncomfortable, of course he'll stop. The last thing he wants is for you to feel uncomfortable with him.

He'll also get you dog toys and chew toys if you find them fun!

And his absolute favorite thing to do is pet your ears and ruffle your tail, especially if they're as fluffy as his chest is! He finds the sensation soothing.

If you growl at him, chances are he'll growl back at you just to mess with you.

Or he'll make a claw motion and do the little "rawr~" thing because he finds it amusing how you react when you don't know how to respond to something.

He'll also definitely tease you if your tail ever wags.

"That a tail or are ya just happy ta see me, baby boy~?"

He's a tease but... very sweet. Toward you, at least.

At first, she didn't really see the appeal of dating a puppy hybrid. She treats Vortex like a guard dog, and she initially expected you to be the same.

But of course, who could resist a cute puppy? She quickly warmed up to you, finding you absolutely adorable. Whereas Verosika is sultry and seductive, you were cute and innocent, and she loved that about you.

She'd often find herself petting your head and telling you what a good boy/girl you were, seemingly without actually consciously meaning to. She just couldn't resist, the puppy eyes were too much for her!

"Aww, S/O! Such a good boy/girl! Who's my good boy/girl? You are! Yes you are!"

Yeah, even after you start dating, that doesn't change. She still calls you that, but her affections now run even deeper.

As in, she buys you a LOT of dog toys. A lot. She doesn't know why you love them so much, but she knows she wants you to be happy, because you absolutely deserve it.

She's also greatly amused whenever you bark or growl, but shh, don't tell anyone. That isn't part of her persona!

Sometimes, when you're cuddling, she'll wrap her tail around yours and slowly wag them both, since she knows it both stimulates you and expresses affection.

She'd also probably use your barking and growling to her advantage to scare people she doesn't like off. Nine times out of ten, it works. Dogs can be pretty scary when they're not being friendly actively, and puppies are no different.

"That was amazing, S/O. You really know how to scare a little bitch off!"

You didn't really mean to scare anyone, but you were happy Verosika was happy.

She did send that person an apology note at your insistence, though, luckily.

#verosika x reader #helluva boss verosika #helluva verosika #verosika helluva boss #verosika mayday #hb verosika #angel dust hazbin hotel #hazbin angel dust #hazbin hotel angel dust #alastor #angel dust #alastor hazbin x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #angel dust x reader #alastor x reader #helluva boss x reader #helluva x reader #helluva boss x you #helluva boss x y/n #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin x y/n #hazbin x you #hazbin x reader #helluvaboss #helluva boss #hazbin hotel

[bigfatbimbo]

you said u wanted rly specific au type requests and i’m here to deliver! idk if u still write for Lucifer but likkkkee picture this: single father lucifer where lilith left wayyyy earlier and charlie’s still just a baby. so like the reader helping out with him raising baby charlie?? like not in an established relationship way like maybe they fall in love over the course of headcanons !!

I could never be, I could never be ready for this

a/n — I miss doing Lucifer things so bad oh my god! This little fella is so silly I always forget how much I like his character.

warnings — just fluff, not established relationship, kind of long, gender neutral reader

summary — An au where Lilith and Lucifer get divorced way back when Charlie is still just a little kid, so reader helps Lucifer raise her.

I love this idea with all my heart, so let me paint a picture for you. 

Liliths leaving would have been bad enough on its own, but with little Charlie around, it’s needless to say Lucifer was a bit overwhelmed. 

So one day, he’s at the grocery store buying food for his infant child. Deciphering the labels on the baby food is difficult enough, not to mention he’s phone propped against his ear by his shoulder, listening to one of the many jobs Lucifer has to get to later as the king of Hell.

And on top of that, every so often a demon will recognize him as the famous ruler of the pride ring, and talk meaningless at him about whatever they feel is ‘important’ information to tell a celebrity. 

He doesn’t mean to be rude to the sinner, as if he’d respond all that nicer if he wasn’t extremely overstimulated, but he just “Uh-huh, that’s great.” to every comment. 

All of this happening while in the same damn isle, while he still doesn’t know what good to get for his damn baby. 

But, unsurprisingly, Lucifer still manages to Lucifer things up. His phone slips out of his hands, and in the panicked moment, the baby food splatters on the ground around him, and on his expensive boots. 

With a groan, he picks his phone up, tells the person on the other line, “I’ll call you back,” and going to deal with the baby food. 

That’s when he meets you, leaning down to help him clean up, “You know, I think they’re still gonna make you pay for it.” But that’s about when you realize who exactly you’re talking to, you punctuate your sentence with “Your highness.”

Afterwards, you’d make a comment about the baby food, making Lucifer recoil, “Oh my golly, Charlie’s been home alone with Razzle and Dazzle for almost thirty minutes! I mean, they’re great butlers but babysitters?” he laughs at his own private joke, “I don’t think so!”

The man was clearly spiraling, and fast. You didn’t exactly know who Razzle or Dazzle was, but you did pick up on the fact he needed help around the house. And nannying for the king of hell could earn you a pretty penny.

And so begins your arrangement, you come over for a few hours whenever Lucifer calls on you and you care for Charlie. 

And you were good at it too. It was true, Charlie adored you. Your silly faces made her laugh instantly, and she liked to reach her hands over and smoosh your cheeks together. To which she found absolutely hysterical.

Although Lucifer was usually taking care of his, you know, actual job during this time, he did manage to peek in on how you two were doing.

You were so good to Charlie. It made him swell with affection for you as he, most likely, leaned against a doorway to discreetly watch you two play. 

And all of a sudden, you’re getting offered a full time sit-in nanny for the kid, and at an amazing price. Of course, you decline at first, but your hours happily increase. 

A lot of the time, you’re staying overnight in the guest bedroom. And with this new arrangement, you get to know Lucifer a lot more. 

Sometimes he makes breakfast for you and Charlie, after one of your overnight jobs. He definitely takes requests, and is unusually fantastic at whatever it is you ask for.

Out of curiosity for the strange man, who you know very little about on a personal level, you definitely test his abilities. Eggs benedict, soufflés, perfectly folded omelets, all of it requested, and cooked totally perfect. 

“You’re an awfully good cook,” you say. “Thank you! You know I actually learned from—“ “No it’s not a compliment. It’s freakish how good you are.”

The teasing conversation continued and felt so good for Lucifer who’d, with work, the loss of his wife, and raising a child on his own, felt such a lack of light hearted fun in his life. 

And maybe you’d suggest, in a moment of pure playful intent, he cook dinner for you sometime. That would take him by surprise.

He’d be stunned for a full minute, because of pure confusion, lack of enough sleep to understand the comment, and becoming flustered at the idea of a ‘date’ with you.

But it wasn’t meant to be a date, I mean, Charlie would be there, for hells sake. But the dinner definitely starts a new family-like dynamic.

Along with babysitting Charlie, Lucifer tries to be present a lot more around you, even if it meant being set back on work things.

Movie nights with you, him, and Charlie. Obviously something childish like The Little Mermaid, or something to entertain such a young kid. 

But that doesn’t make the movie nights any less special. Charlie sat on the end, leaning up against Lucifer, who sat right beside you. However, with his schedule, and let’s be real fucked up mental state, he found it hard to focus on the movie, and even harder to stay awake. 

Each and every movie night, it’s like clockwork. The first hour of the movie, Charlie is lively, and Lucifer is chatting beside you. At that hour checkmark, that’s about when Charlie falls asleep on Lucifer’s lap. 

Then the last thirty minutes, Lucifer becomes drowsier and drowsier, before finally falling asleep on your shoulder, Charlie still nuzzled up in his lap. 

Of course he knows it’s inappropriate to be, for lack of better words, cuddling with his child’s nanny. But charlie seemed to like you and it’s been so long since he’d been held.

 Honestly, the affection between you two would be so normalized, it would take a while for you two to even realize your ‘first date’ is a date at all.

Like it’d be over dinner and you’d have put Charlie to bed by then, and then you’d just be like, “Wait, fuck. Is this like… a date type thing?” 

And then a puzzle piece would instantly click and Lucifer would be like, “Uh… I dunno. Is it?” And he’d be nervously laughing but he’d actually be trying to cover up how taken aback he is by the thought of it. 

Honestly, even after a few dates [or fuck, even a lot of them] I don’t think there would be any label on this relationship. 

Like, that’s really the one unhealthy part of this whole thing, you wouldn’t be labeled to Lucifer as anything romantic, despite how lovely dovey you two act.

I guess sometimes a family is just the devil himself, his baby daughter, and his parentally gifted nanny. 

a/n — didn’t include any smut headcanons here because it was lowkey really long without them but.. always could go for more lucifer smut and basically anything with this silly little singledad!lucifer au

ALSO STEVEN UNIVERSE REFERENCE FOR THE TITLE, GIGGLING!!

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer headcanons #lucifer fluff #lucifer morningstar x you #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #hazbin lucifer x reader

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Part 2 to Desperate Times Call for Filthy Fantasies

Daddy Dom!Simon "Ghost" Riley x Brat!Reader

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon "Ghost" Riley, Reader

Summary: After a certain Lieutenant allowed his fantasies to run wild, there was only one thing left to do: make them a reality. Opportunity presents itself one day as your brattiness has reached new highs and he follows you into the communal bathroom and locks the door behind you both. You're all alone and now what? Seems you've bitten off more than you can chew, but you both know now that was your plan all along.

Word Count: 5.2 k

Warnings:

“What the fuck are you doing?” Ghost demanded as he stepped up to confront you, his voice sharp and harsh. You were in quite the mood today, deciding the night before that instead of pulling your usual bullshit you would be employing a new tactic to piss of your Lieutenant.

There was no way for you to have known how your superior had allowed his fantasies to run rampant through his mind, how he had been in a constant state of being turned on whenever he had to be near you now, how his cock was nearly raw from how many times he’d had to jerk it lately. No, you didn’t know any of that, but it definitely helped your newest little scheme.

“I’m not doing anything,” you said, not even bothering to look into the face of the man trying to reprimand you as you again moved away back to what you were doing.

You should have just been running drills before rifle practice, but instead of simply getting to it and doing it in silence, every time Ghost passed near you a suggestive noise slipped out of your mouth. Moaning, panting, humming; all those beautiful noises of what you would sound like as you climaxed just loud enough that he alone could hear.

It took every ounce of his strength to subdue the aching bulge consistently being made to grow in his pants, threatening to tent the fabric out and display his true feelings about the entire situation and every minute that passed it became almost impossible to quell. Goddamn him for indulging his imagination because now he had to deal with this shit and it made him furious that there was nothing he could do to fix it. Well, not yet.

Making another round to supervise his subordinates, he again passed by you and again was met with a closed-lipped moan as he got within earshot. You looked up as you finished your bit of vocal acting and locked eyes with him in an unmistakable act of defiance which he took the bate of.

“Dammit, I said stop,” he ordered, but again you brushed him off.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“That’s it,” he growled, “I’m not playing games anymore private. You want to get reprimanded again?”

You shrugged. “Fine. What will it be this time, sir? Five hundred push ups or shall I run until the sun sets. Just make up your mind quick so I can get this started.”

Fucking bitch, he thought. “Push ups, now. And if I see your back not straight a board you are starting over. Got it?”

“Sure,” you said as you rolled your eyes and got on your hands and knees.

Not again, he could not take another second of this. Something had to be done or he was going to explode. What was your fixation with inducing his rage? Why could you simply not leave him be?

Ghost had already thought it before, but he had to wonder even more with this new development if the reason behind your actions was to get his attention, the type of attention that wasn’t so innocent. As his hand discreetly adjusted his cock inside his pants, it already throbbing against his touch, he knew he needed to find out.

It was the middle of the day when Ghost finally caught back up with you. At the far end of the base, near the Private barracks, he saw you chatting away with some of your fellow recruits. He watched silently, trying to concoct a plan to get you alone and finally nip this shit in the bud. There were plenty of things he could do: walk up and order you to his office, walk into the barracks and order everyone else out, but as he stood there brooding with what to do, you said your goodbyes and broke off from the small group.

His eyeline followed you as you walked your unsuspecting way to the communal bathrooms alone and stepped inside. This was his chance, at least it looked that way from the outside. Before he could stop himself or think of any possible ramifications of his actions, he stormed right in after you without hesitation. The moment he was inside his gaze scanned the room quick to locate you and found you standing in front of the sinks, peering at yourself in the mirror as you checked your face and hair, then moving on to readjust your breasts to sit up higher in your bra.

Your gaze shifted from the mirror once you felt that familiar pair of eyes on you and as you turned you saw the broad form of your superior officer blocking up the doorway with his impressive figure. He was silent, but then again wasn’t he always? Probably come to continue the earlier argument; good thing you were always ready to push him.

“Fancy meeting you here,” you said nonchalantly with a hint of sarcasm as you finished preening without caring if he saw. “Came to powder your nose as well? Please, don’t let me stop you. I promise I won’t look if you pull off the mask.”

He was quiet, too quiet, as those brown eyes again looked thoroughly through the room. What the hell was he searching for you wondered. It took him less than a minute to finally turn his attention back to you and as he secured that intimidating gaze directly into your eyes, his hand slipped behind his back and you heard a click as the lock on the bathroom door was engaged.

Slowly you turned away from the sink, facing him as you crossed your arms just under your chest. “Care to tell me what this is about, sir?” you asked, not the least bit afraid. “Kind of suspicious the way you just locked us in here like that.”

“Don’t you fucking dare play coy with me, princess,” he growled, his voice deep and menacing as his glare drilled daggers into you through the eye holes of his mask. “We both know exactly what the fuck it is you are doing and if you think you’ll just get away with it anymore, you’re fucking wrong luv.”

The corner of your lip upturned into a smirk. “Care to actually explain what it is I am being accused of? Or would you rather I start making a scene so you get caught doing … whatever this is by keeping me trapped in here? Your choice Lieutenant.”

Christ, the way you made his body burn with an uncontrollable need to put you in your fucking place, to have you bending over backward to his whims, was both infuriating and intoxicating all at once until he did not know up from down. You were fiery and that’s exactly how liked them; the challenge of making the spicy ones come to heel was half the fun for him. And it had been quite a while since he had been able to put his skill to the test.

“Your lack of respect and piss poor attitude are getting fucking old, little girl,” he hissed, his lips curling into a snarl under the fabric of his mask. “And now you want to pull this, hmm? Can’t bitch your way out of it so you decide to make yourself look like a slag to, what? Distract me?”

“Is that what this is about?” you questioned, followed by a malicious chuckle, shaking your head; he didn’t know what he was getting himself into. “And so what if I am?”

“Excuse me?” he interjected.

“You heard me,” you stood firm. “You see, I checked and double checked, I’m still within dress code so I don’t see your fucking problem. Besides, maybe I like making you stare whenever I am around; that’s not a crime and, let’s be honest, there is nothing you can do about it.”

Was that more provocation? Because now that he had the upper hand, it would definitely come with a price. The more defiant you got the harder he became. “Oh,” he said as he took a few steps closer, his boots crunching as they crushed the debris stuck in the grooves along the bottom. “Is that so?”

You weren’t going to back down, not when you were ready to see what he was going to do about it. “If you have a personal problem with me distracting you, maybe you should look into stroking it more often instead of acting like it’s my fault.”

“That’s because it is, sweetheart, and I’m fucking sick of it.”

Large, heavy sounding steps that seemed magnified by the otherwise quiet room kept the beat as he stalked towards the object of his ire and his desire. You matched his pace only moving backwards until your shoulder blades hit the wall; there was nowhere else for you to go now.

This wasn’t like those times during trainging when others had been around to boost your confidence in your back talk, this was a new side to him that you had yet to see. No shouting, no barking orders, nothing but silent intimidation by his impressive physical form. He towered over you in an imposing fashion and shut you up real fucking quick. Looking up into his face, you noticed the look he now gave you had gone dark as the closeness had cast shadows over his eyes behind the mask, giving him a feral look that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Where’s that attitude of yours now, hmm?” Ghost questioned. “That’s what I thought. You see, I realized that I’ve been going about this all wrong, luv.”

Reaching out his arm, his hand found its target and with powerful fingers he wrapped them around your slender neck. He didn’t touch you with hesitation as if he was unsure about what his intentions were, he touched you like he fucking owned you and you could feel the heat rise in your cheeks and a throbbing between your thighs at that certainty. His grip was firm, but not painful; he wanted you to know that the control was no longer yours.

“Daddy never disciplined you when you got out of line, did he, princess? I bet he spoiled you fucking rotten and now you think you can just do whatever you want and there won’t be any fucking consequences, is that it?” He shook his head with a click of his tongue.

Through his palm, you could feel his heatbeat pounding furiously. This was the first time he had really touched you and there was a certain jolt there as his skin connected with yours. Those copper eyes sparked to life like a fire had been kindled inside him as he glared down at you.

“Too bad I am not one to let you get away with it anymore,” he stated, “no, you are about to be made to follow directions. I’ve tried and fucking tried to get through to you, but I was going about it all wrong, wasn’t I? You are challenging me because you secretly want me to put you in your fucking place, isn’t that right?”

Looking up at him through heavy lids and thick eyelashes, you didn’t need to say a word; your silence said volumes. “You want my attention,” he said, “and fuck, you are going to have it.”

On of his wide knees found your thighs and with a good bit of pressure applied he split them apart. His own thigh pushed against your sex and he found that it was warm against his leg. As he pushed in farther, his eyes caught you struggling not to let him notice the way you took your bottom lip into your mouth and bit down, clearly from something being stimulated.

“Poor little girl,” he degraded cockily in that deep, gruff voice of his, “now that I’m this close I can see how goddamn pathetic you’ve been this whole time. Pushing me to my limit just to see what I would do. What is it you need? Want a big, strong man with more experience to make you their bitch?”

Those big doe-eyes stared right back at him. “Yes,” you confirmed quietly.

Ghost nodded his head. “Fine, I’ll bite, but we do this my way. Go on then, get on your knees.”

Your eyebrows raised with the tilt of your head. “And what if I don’t?”

Something in the air changed in that moment; the tension became so thick between you both you couldn’t breathe without it filling your body to the brim as he grabbed the back collar of his shirt with both hands and slowly slipped it off his torso. That bare chest covered in a thin layer of light brown hair immediately drew your attention from his face.

You knew the man was thick, it was clear from the way his uniform hugged his curves, but you were not prepared for just how toned he was. His line of work obviously kept him supreme shape, each muscle scuplted as if he were carved from marble all the way down his torso in firm and tight ripples of skin until it reached that ‘V’ that led like an arrow down into his pants. God, you needed to know how big the appendage it was pointing to was.

Leaning his cloth-covered face in closer as if he were about to connect your mouths through the fabric, he stopped just shy of your lips, making your body squirm as the proximity of his own just out of reach felt was like a new form of torture. You may have gotten the jump-start on him long before now, made his body burn with your teasing, but he could tease even better when it came down to it. He’d have you bending over backwards to do as he said in no time.

Ghost exhaled quick and sharp through his nose, “When the fuck did I ask? I said on your knees, now.”

Taking a step back, you were given just enough space to move. He was impassible, like a wall made of stone, and there was nothing else for you to do other than lower yourself to the ground before his form. It was like standing at the base of a sycamore tree, gazing up the long thick trunk that seemed to go on forever.

Pointing a finger to the buckle on his belt, he growled. “Undo it.”

Fumbling a bit as you tripped over your unsteady fingers, you did as he said and with a tinkling of metal hitting metal it swung open to hang loosely from the belt loops.

His slacks hung about his waist and he grabbed your hand to shove it inside the confines of his pants, going until he placed it on cock pulsing inside his underwear. “Take it out.”

Good God, what your hand wrapped around made your eyes widen and as you moved his boxer briefs down and out of your way, you could see why. Now that it was free, his thick cock stood at full attention: the tip swollen and already beaded with precum, the veins running the length of it pulsing with his rapid heartbeat making it twitch towards you. It was huge, matching the bulk of the man before you.

Ghost pushed you back so that you were sitting on your heels as he stroked his hand along the shaft a few times just so the shock of it being touched wouldn’t send him over the edge too quickly as he put you to work. “Open your mouth, princess. Let’s give those lips something to do other than bitch.”

His free hand found the back of your head as you sat up on your knees with your mouth agape and he laced his stocky digits through your hair. With a solid push on your skull your head moved forward into him until you had no choice but to take the tip of his cock inside your lips. That beast of a man was easing you into what was to come and you knew it; no man as experienced as him was going to go easy on you for long. The moment you made contact with his cock’s head he grunted and you could feel his it throb into the roof of your mouth.

“Goddammit, babygirl,” he groaned, his grip on your hair getting stronger as he pushed you down further onto his shaft.

Fuck, that impressive girth was almost too much for your tiny orifice to take in all at once and you had to use your hand for compensation at the base or risk choking, but that did not stop you from doing your best to give him exactly what he wanted; you were consumed with the feeling as you were sure if you did a good enough job he would take care of you.

The saltiness of his precum filled the walls of your mouth as with each flick of your tongue around the head of his cock added more moisture to the inside of your lips. Tears stung your eyes as you breathed through your nose, trying your best not to gag from the sheer volume of cock being shoved into your mouth and down your throat, but you couldn’t stop.

“Look up at me,” he commanded as he caught sight of the beads of liquid slipping down the sides of your cheeks; he needed an unhindered view. “That’s it. I want those eyes on mine while I fuck that pretty mouth.”

The more you sucked, the more his hips began thrusting smoothly against your lips until he was fucking your mouth with his hand still on the back of your head to keep you from pulling away. “Ah my little whore, mouth taking cock like it’s your job. That’s all you’re good for isn’t it? Isn’t it?”

You moaned, the vibration from your vocal chords reaching his tip. He grunted as his hips bucked harder against your face, smashing his abdominals into your nose. “Such a dirt bitch, trying to talk with your mouth full.”

His thrusts into your throat became more desperate the more you sucked as that familiar warmth gathered itself in his belly, threatening to tear through him soon. You never let your gaze falter, no matter how hard he hit your gag reflex, even that teary look in your eye as you struggled to take him; all together it was not helping. He would need to cool down if he wanted to play with you more; no sense in coming yet when you had more holes for him to explore.

Putting his hands on your shoulders, he pushed you off him and pulled out of your mouth. A bit of spit and precum dribble out and down from the corner of your lips and you wiped it away with the back of your hand as he pulled you to your feet.

No one made looking a face-fucked wreck more beautiful.

Rough hands found your belt buckle and hooked it so that he could jerk you forward into him as his surprisingly nimble fingertips unclasped it and let it hand. The bottom hem of your t-shirt was still tucked neatly inside your pants and Ghost’s huge, veined hands yanked it out before he plunged up and under all the way, through the bottom of your bra as well, until he got to your breasts. That supple and warm flesh in his grasp made his whole body seize with pleasure.

Shit, you were so fucking warm and soft and pliable under his hard grip.

Ghost’s mitts cupped the bulk of your tits as his thumbs pinched the skin of your nipples against the side of his pointer fingers so that he could massage them. Your lips parted, steadily quickening breaths filled up the space between the both of you at the stimulation from his calloused palms mixed with the intensity of his gaze and it left you spiraling.

All at once your shirt was being ripped off over the top of your head before your back was slammed into the wall by the force of Ghost shoving himself into you. Even your form-fitting shirt did not prepare the Lieutenant for the glory of what was hidden underneath and with hungry eyes he flipped the bottom of his skull mask up to his nose to release his mouth quickly. Wet, feverish lips lock onto one of your breast as he leaned his head against your chest, while the other he toyed with still in his hand.

Goddammit it was even better than he imagined, the feeling of those perky tits between his lips. He was in heaven as he sucked and sucked, securing your nipple between the pad of his tongue and the roof of his mouth to get the best seal. Your hand cradled the sides of his head as he went to work, sucking and pulling as you writhed with your pussy against his thigh.

Once satisfied with his work on the first, he switched to the other; can’t leave that one out. The same amount of attention was given to that one as well, which only made your want to grind against him more overwhelming as the wetness between your legs soaked through your panties. He groaned into your chest at how much he enjoyed being smothered against those endowed assets and you nearly came from the beautiful sound alone.

Pleased with his handiwork, he released you only to move on to your neck. The way he bit and sucked, you knew he wanted to mark you and even though you’d have a fucking hell of a time hiding the hickies tomorrow, you didn’t care. Everywhere he went he sent electric shocks across your body and it was more than worth whatever trouble it would cause later.

“Take of your pants, now,” he ordered with a firm growl into the nape of your neck.

The authority in his thickly accented voice hit just right and as he backed off so you could move, you slipped your fingers into the waistband and pulled both your panties and those camo bottoms off your lower half. You were almost positive you heard your superior whimper as he caught sight of your pretty little cunt with its trimmed bit of hair just on top.

Waiting was not an option; he needed to be inside of you now. Where would he take you against? There were a few options, but as he quickly scanned the room a devilish idea struck him as perfect. With a tight grip on your arm he pulled you the few feet back over to the sinks, the large mirror perched just behind it. “Bend over right here, on your stomach,” he barked.

He didn’t wait for you to comply and pushed your upper body over so that your torso was pressed up against the cold countertop. Shoving his boot between your feet, he moved your legs apart, widening your hips and making you back arch so that he would be able to reach your entrance. The curve of your ass was accentuated by the position and he ran a heavy hand across the length of it before giving it a swift smack.

“Mmmm,” he hummed as it jiggled with the reverb from his hand.

That monstrous cock was throbbing against your backside as Ghost inclined over you back to clasp your jaw in his hand, pulling your head into place to face the mirror. “Here’s the deal, sweetheart. If you want me to let you come, then you are gonna fucking watch me fuck you silly. Your eyes move away from that mirror and I stop. You don’t want me to stop. Understand?”

“Yes,” you nodded into his palm.

His grip tightened. “Yes, what?”

You placed your gaze straight ahead. Just as much as he needed to shove all of his aching cock into you, you needed it just as bad. You had waited long enough for this: weeks and weeks of pushing him to his limit in an attempt to have him take you rough and without apology and now you were right at the brink; nothing was going to stop you now.

“Yes, sir.”

That was it, without another sound he stood back up and clenched his abdominal muscles while his strong fingers dug into the meat of your hips as he made sure he was aligned with your entrance. One strong thrust and his phallus ripped into you deep until he reached the base, bottoming out as you cried out.

Your fingertips dug into the hard surface of the countertop as you were filled out to the brim, your walls struggling to accommodate such an impressive object. Shit, you had never been this full before and it took you a minute to adjust.

“N-nh… ah…” Ghost groaned from behind and you watched him in the mirror as he staggered where he stood. “Fucking hell princess, your so tight…oh, f-fuck.”

A roll of your hips into him send shock waves of ecstasy through his pelvis and his head fell forward as he tried to calm himself enough that he didn’t blow his load right then and there just from that initial contact. All the fantasizing he did that night in the shower had nothing on this and he cursed himself for not trying to get in your pants sooner.

Getting himself under control, he began to thrust recklessly in and out of you with a force that shook made your breast sway. His fingers clawed into your flesh, leaving angry, red marks of where he had been that could would still be felt tomorrow. Those full lips twisted into a smirk as he bucked up against your hips, his testicles hitting your pulsing clit to make you twitch and your and your head fall forward.

“What the fuck did I say?” he grumbled as he removed his hand from your hip to grab a fistful of hair and wrench your head back up as he kept pace. “Eyes up.”

Your reflection stared back at the both of you, Ghost’s imposing figure with his chiseled abdominal muscles contracting and releasing with each thrust as his hips plowed you from behind. Ghost noticed how beautifully your cheeks flushed bright red as he continued to fill you up completely, each of his thrusts going completely in you down to the very base,. With the pressure of your orgasm building steadily your eyes took on a dreamy, dazed look as he hit that sensitive bundle of nerves within you time and again with a steady stream of moans that filled the air.

There was something so primal about watching himself fuck you into oblivion.

His amber eyes caught yours in the mirror and he smirked. “Fucking hell baby, you are a picture wrapped around my cock like this,” he groaned, his strokes becoming more sloppy, the slapping sounds of your overly wet cunt getting louder and louder.

The longer he went the more his sanity waned until there was not a single thought left except for the animalistic need to rut into you until he came. You could see the change wash over his face and through his eyes and it only thrilled you more as he became like a predator ready to catch his prey.

“Close,” you found yourself mewling.

One of his bulked arms secured itself around your middle as Ghost pulled you up until your back was flush against his sturdy chest, changing the angle of his thrusts inside you. He had to hold you up by your waist as you stood on the balls of your feet, but it was worth it as this new angle allowed him to reach a free hand down your abdomen to your clit where he could rub circles around that sensitive bundle.

“You gonna come for me, baby?” he teased, desperately clinging to you as he too was about to spill and wanting you to go with him, “ do it then. Come for me little girl, I want you to coat my dick with your juices. Let me feel those fucking walls flutter.”

The way this beast of a man was wrapped around you, his arms laced across your body like an organic body harness that accentuated your curves as you wore him. You were completely at his mercy, his size was just so that he could do with you as he pleased and you would have no say whatsoever. And yet here was furiously pounding into you harder and harder as his fingers stroked your clit; he was doing his upmost to get you off and to be treated so well by someone who could break you was euphoric.

Reaching behind your head, you wrapped your arms around his neck to cling to the muscles in his back as your nails dug in. “Fuck… fuck…mm…mmmh…” you stuttered as that warmth in the base of your stomach was almost at its peak.

“That’s it, come on,” he coaxed, keeping his movements steady.

He pumped with everything in him and that was it; with a shudder your rocketed through you fiery hot, making your body writhe in his grasp. God, it wouldn’t stop, second after second it just kept coming just as strong. Ghost did not let up either and soon you were crying from the over-stimulation.

A few more thrusts and he was following right behind, a roar ripping through his chest as he compressed your torso with a strength that made it hard to breathe. “Goddammit, baby,” his muscles strained as he rode out his orgasm to its end as he painted your insides milky white.

“Is this what you fucking wanted, princess?” he groaned into your ear, your body twitching together as you could barely stand up anymore.

You swallowed hard. “Yes, sir,” you said quietly.

You could see him grinning from ear to ear as you peaked back into the glass. “Good girl,” he praised.

Turning your chin with a slight touch of his fingers, he met your lips with his own. Breathlessly he captured and recaptured your lips as he stayed locked inside you. He tasted like the smoke from his cigarettes, but the way his soft, full lips felt against your own made up for it entirely.

“And you know, if you decide to be good for me from now on I will keep fucking you nice and proper just like this,” he groaned against your mouth as he finally broke the kiss.

You gave him one last quick peck on his mouth. “What if I don’t?” you questioned mischievously.

“Then I’ll be sure that your fucked so thoroughly that you won’t have the energy to pull that shit for the rest of the week,” he said firmly as he released you from his grasp.

Well, that didn’t sound like a punishment at all. Perhaps you’d have to put that to the test later. Right now you had to figure how you were going to get through the rest of the day with your sanity while coated in the scent of your Lieutenant.

Tag list: @rilamon, @karagd13-blog , @crucifiedbitch, @m-carriaga2021 , @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago , @morbidmary , @liv4thewin , @dazaiscum

#simon ghost riley #ghost cod #ghost x reader #simon riley #call of duty #simon riley x reader #ghost mw2 #cod mw2 #simin ghost riley #dom!simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost simon riley #simon riley x you #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut

[soapybutt17]

Night Showers

Summary: A shower, a missing condom, and Soap doing his best to get on his Captain's nerves (the 20 laps around the entire base was worth it). Character: John Price x F!Wife!Reader. Simon "Ghost" Riley. Kyle "Gaz" Garrick. John "Soap" MacTavish. Word Count: 2,168 Chapter Warnings: Smut. Unprotected Penetration. Creampies. P in V. Oral Sex (F receiving). Alternate Universe. Soap just being a little shit for the giggles and all. Unedited as usual. A/N: To the anon that sent me the request, this is for you. I just can't get this idea out of my head and it shows.

Masterlist | Series Masterlist || Request are Open

One of the few perks of being part of the upper ranks were the privilege of having your own time to bathe. But unlike other assholes that prefer being in first, you preferred to be the last one to step foot in the communal showers. You prefer taking your time, lathering yourself up to the perfect suds and savoring every single minute of the cold water against your skin.

You preferred your privacy as much as the next person and practically living in the base, you don’t get that privilege as often as you want unless you were here. It was ironic seeing it was a communal space and there was an off chance another female member of the base would slip back in but it was rare especially at this time of the night where you were certain almost everyone aside from the people on watch duty were fast asleep.

The frigid cold water would have woken you up but the longer you stood in the water, the more did you feel the weight of the day get to you and you were close to falling asleep from where you stood. You were close to ready to finally get to bed and sleep before the following day of drills.

You felt a hand before you realize it and instincts had equipped you to act fast and hit whoever was ballsy enough to touch you. But it seems your husband was faster than you as he held onto your fisted hand. A smirk playing on his lips for catching you off guard.

“You’re not supposed to be here.” You whispered screamed at him at this point. The panic of someone possibly entering immediately crossed your mind and the possibility of either of you (mostly him) getting in trouble for being in the same shower together.

“Locked the door on my way in if that’s what you’re worried about, Love.” He smirked and only now did you come to realize that he was butt naked just as much as you.

You felt the heat on your cheeks at the realization. It’s been far too long since you’ve had even a semblance of intimacy with your husband. With mission and reports constantly pulling the both of you apart, having him so close to you now only brought the much deprived need in you to come back full force for him to see.

“Fucking hell, cold as ice.” He muttered as the water has finally hit his skin.

Your eyes gazed at the bear of a man you had the privilege of calling your husband. The way the water slither against his hairy chest and down to his happy trail all the pent up desire has come and you did not know if you had the mental fortitude to resist him at this point.

“Seein’ something you like, Love?” He teased, his watercolor eyes gazing down at you as he caught you staring.

“Very.” You quipped turning back to the waters to wash away the last of the suds that was still covering your skin. “But I think you already know that by now.” You muttered looking over your shoulder to look down at his manhood alive and awake you to see.

“Most definitely.” He chuckled, his arms found their way around your waist, pulling you further into his torso, his manhood pressing against your back in the process. “And you could feel it right now.”

“John…” You warned. You’ve had far too many close calls with the man in the past, had it not been for everyone’s lack of idea about what was going on between the both of you, you both would have been caught in one too many compromising situation.

“I’m doing nothing, Love.” He chuckled, his hand slowly creeping from your stomach up towards the swells of your breast giving a gentle squeeze before one hand rested against the columns of your neck and the other holding onto your jaws to keep you in place. “Nothing at all.” He purred, lips finding their place against where your neck and shoulders met.

“John not here.” You warned him again, the fact that the doors to the showers were locked did not reassure you at all. You still fear the possibility that someone had seen you then seen your husband walk inside in the middle of the night.

“Where then? Name a time and place.” He propositioned.

“Your room, after you shower.” You finally relent knowing that when your husband was in the mood just as much as you were, nothing would stop him from having you.

“Deal.” He turned your head until your lips met his own in a searing kiss that drowned you more than the water that showered above you both.

Your hand found their way against his wet beard, trying and failing to control his kiss, savoring the first of many kisses he was more than willing to give you for the rest of the night.

Fuck Protocol. Fuck Reputation. You will be fucked and you will make the most out of it.

“I’ll meet you naked on your bed.” He practically commanded you now as he pulled away. Any other time you would have made the protest of him giving him orders the way that he did but you truly didn’t care at this point.

Nodding, you pulled away from his hold. The coldness of his absent touch did more damage than the water ever could. Without even looking back, you had toweled dried yourself and put on your clothes—ignoring the fact that it was your dirtied ones. You’re going to be naked once you’re back in bed anyways and made your way out of the showers and making sure to lock the door behind you in the process.

~

“God fucking damnit.”

With shaking legs, you peered down at your husband post-orgasm from between your legs as he began searching through his discarded pants. A few choice words escaped his lips as he continued on with his search. It was so unlike the Captain to be this antsy but it was given in the situation at hand.

“What?” You asked, dazed still from your release with just his mouth. You felt the ache on your lips from biting too hard and trying and somewhat failing to keep your moans and whimpers to a minimum.

“Condom.” He practically growled as he began to look around his room.

You blinked as his frustration was now in full force as he began to look around his room for another spare but no luck whatsoever.

“Just fuck me, John.” You whimpered, hand somehow finding their way towards your still too sensitive bud. Keeping yourself sated while you waited.

“But…”

“I’m on my pills, just fuck me already.” You were now practically demanding him at this point. “Please.”

You didn’t have to tell him twice as he dove right on top of you. Slotting himself in between your legs. He pulled you in for another searing kiss. Your arms and legs had immediately wrapped around him, urging him to finally fuck you but he was taking his sweet time—a time neither of you truly had with the night slowly fading into daylight.

“A fucking little menace you are, aren’t you?” He teased, grinding his pelvic bone against your nub. “Just so desperate for me are you?” He questioned, voice growling louder and instincts kicked in as you slapped your hand towards his mouth to quiet him down.

He did not like it one bit as he held both of your hands above your head.

“Did I fucking tell you to touch me, Pet?” He growled against your ears.

“John—you need to be quiet.” You whispered struggling to free from his hold.

“You don’t get to make orders here, Lieutenant.” He whispered against your ears, nipping at your lobe before his lips lingered against your cheeks and finding their way towards your lips but not truly kissing you. “Is that clear?”

“Yes.” You whimpered as his hips dug further into your core.

“Yes what, Lieutenant?”

“Yes, Captain.” You squealed as he finally slipped right into you.

The aching sting even with him preparing you lingered through your entire body. It was always a task in on itself as he held onto you. One hand held onto your own up above your head and the other held onto your leg and pulling it up as high as you physically could.

“Bloody fucking hell.” He groaned. “Fucking tight.” He muttered.

Without another word, his moved his hips, a gruelingly slow but deep pace that had you gasping at each piston. Your legs held onto his waist for dear life and your teeth bit against your lips stopping from any noise from escaping.

You watched all the control leave from your husband’s body as his thrust had gotten sloppy.

“Please…” You pleaded, even when you truly didn’t know what you were even begging for right now. “Please. Please. Please.”

You felt it before you realize what was going on, the spurts painted your insides and the mind numbing shiver that wrecked from your toes up to your head. You moaned, louder than you would have wanted it to be but your husband was quick to silence you with his lips. Pulling you into him, swallowing every moans and every whimper as he continued on with thrusting inside of you.

Finally, your husband had let go of your hands, you winced as blood began flowing right back and the familiar tingling sensation seeped through. He pulled away, looking down at you in the all too familiar adoration that you felt the same for him. You were sated, blissed and thoroughly satisfied from the longing you felt for your husband.

“Are you broken?” John inquired.

A playful smile rested on your face, the context that it was a question he often asked after any of his team were put in a bad spot. It was his own little way of asking anyone and everyone if they were alright.

“Split open, but I’ll survive.” You respond,

He smiled, chuckling at your antics. Before a flip has switch and his hand held onto you pulling you up and turning you until you were on your hands and knees. Without even missing a beat or even allowing you to say anything, he plunged himself right back into you.

“Good.” He chuckled leaning close to your ears. “There’s still more where that came from.”

~

Breakfast in the mess hall was boring and you preferred it that way. Enjoying your tea and toast and jam in the peace of the table you shared with John, Gaz, and Simon was all you could ask for after the grueling night you had with your husband.

Even from the frequent sips of his coffee, you know he was just trying his best to hide the smirk playing on his face. Last night had been a blur after the third round for you. When your husband was on a mission, nothing could truly stop him from taking what he wants and what he needed from you, you were all the more willing to give it to him if he needed it.

But with that being said, you also knew the consequences of your actions. The ache between your legs and the sore throat you were nursing with your ginger tea. There was also the array of hickeys and bruises that painted your entire body and you did your best to hide as much as possible even in the sweltering heat.

The next time you would even think about sleeping with your husband is when you’re both done with your deployment. Nothing more, nothing less.

“Aye Price!”

You winced, the peace of your own filthy thoughts of last night was ruined by Soap’s booming voice taking most of everyone’s attention (some already used to his morning antics, decided to just ignore him). You looked up towards the Scot and paled at the all too familiar foil packet in his grasp.

“Saw this in front of your room last night. Hope the lucky lady you had in your room was fine being raw dogged for the night.”

You could feel the fury boil from where you sat. You had noticed both Simon and Gaz strategically move a little farther away from where the Captain sat but they had an all good view of the man as he stood and ordered Soap to run the entire base twenty times.

It pissed John even more was the fact that Soap wasn’t all that afraid with his punishment, cackling as he skipped out of the mess hall, the condom still in his hand for everyone to see. Soap would truly not let him live this down.

His eyes slowly turned to you and this time it was you who was trying your best to hide the smile as you took another generous sip of your tea.

The consequence of his own actions it seems.

#John Price Smut #John Price One Shots #John Price Oneshot #John Price Oneshots #john price headcanon #John Price x reader #john price x female reader #John price x wife! reader #captain price x reader #john price x reader #cod fanfic #cod x reader #cod mw x reader #smut #john price smut #cross posted on ao3 #captain price #call of duty #fanfic #x reader #female reader #captain john price x reader #captain john price #captain price x you #john price #john price x you #captain price x female reader

[itscherrylipsforme]

When were you planning to tell us?: Theseus Scamander x fem!reader

Summary: During their wedding your recently married friends can't stop asking questions about your "mysterious" husband. Little they know he is the same man who has been flirting with you during all the ceremony

Warnings: Drinking a little, I guess? But nothing else except that Jacob and Queenie being unaware of the world around them; Leta and Theseus ot being able to hide their chuckles; and Dumbledore being a funny smartass. Takes place after Dumbledore's secrets and in Au where Leta doesn't die and she wasn't enganged with Thesesus

Requested: yes

Words: Around 1130

Author rambles: This is kind of inspired in a wedding I attended a couple of years ago and the situation fitted quite well with the request

Masterlist Characters I write for

Likes and reblogs are appreciated ღ

I do not authorize any of my works to be copied, translated or plagiarized ✗

Bright smiles, sparky eyes and some tears of pure happiness, that was a quick and accurate way to describe most weddings. Jacob’s and Queenie’s was not an exception to this. A small and intimate ceremony on the bakery, only family and friends attending, perfect for the couple union. While the bride and the groom, now wife and husband, were looking at each other with love-dove eyes, you and the rest of the guests were enjoying the sight.

“She looks beautiful today, even more that normally” You whispered to Theseus who was by your side leaning in the desserts table.

“I still believe you were prettier in your wedding” He replied a small grin playing on his lips.

“You are a charmer with words, Theseus Scamander” Your hands slowly moved to take two glasses of champagne, handing one of them to your companion.

“Only because you deserve it, darling” He took a quick sip of the pinkish beverage, which had been Queenie’s idea.

You would have scolded him for his smarmy antics if it wasn’t for your nosy friends who had been half-listening to your talk. Yeah, a small bakery was definitely not the best place to hold a private conversation. It wasn’t long until Mr and Mrs Kowalski came to your way with a mixture of curiosity and surprise.

“y/n you never told us you had been married, honey” Queenie sweet voice echoed in your ears. The realization hit you, you had been caught.

“Actually, I still am” Thesus couldn’t help but chuckle at your words.

“And who is the lucky man?” Jacob managed to speak while taking a bite from the nuptial cake “Do we know him?”

Theseus cheeks were starting to tint in a similar tone to his hair. You wondered how an auror like him, who has supposed to be calm and stern in every situation, couldn’t stop that grin from spreading on his face right now. Luckily for the two of you, Leta Lestrange, your best friend since your Hogwarts years (your guardian angel as you should call her from now on), appeared on the scene.

“What is the fuss for?” she joined the group and thanks to her endearing smile and her ability to put the focus on herself in every situation, you could enjoy a few seconds to think what would you say next. You were so relived thanks to her entry that you didn’t even get annoyed when she playfully stole your glass of champagne.

“y/n has just told us that she is married” The bride explained enthusiastically.

“Ohh…” Great, the last thing you needed right now was another person who couldn’t keep a secret to save her life. Surprisingly, she decided to play along. After all a little fun never hurt anyone “Of course she is, I was the bridesmaid”

“Leta…” You tried to interrupt her in order to finally reveal the truth.

“Wonderful!” Queenie clapped “So you can tell us more about that mysterious husband of hers”

“Yeah y/n, you never told us anything about him” Theseus took a sip of his drink and still he couldn’t hide his smirk.

Oh, he made a big mistake… Never play games with a girl who can play them better, Scamander. You should remind him that later.

“Well, he is the perfect gentleman. Sweet, chivalrous, caring…” You dreamingly looked at the celling “But also a little bossy, stubborn, touchy too. And he always overworks himself with his job to the point its annoying” Your audience was expectant to hear more about it. Theseus tried his best not to look slightly offended while Leta patted his back.

“But you love him, don’t you?” The older Scamander brother asked, his eyes shinning hopefully. One of the many things that made you fall for him since the first day.

“With every piece of my heart” Your gaze was locked in his.

That intimate moment which had somehow grown in a room full of people faded a wide the instance the door’s bell rang, announcing Tina’s and Newt’s arrival in the bakery. God knew what they had been talking about while the rest of you were enjoying the desserts.

“Guys, you will never guess what happened” Jacob said as soon as they came to his sight.

“Y/n is married!” Queenie announced as the sweet gossiper she was.

The young magizoologist’s eyes travelled back and forwards from yours and his brother’s face, clearly confused. The elder Goldstein sister just looked unaware, waiting for an explanation.

“Of course, she is” Newt finally broke the silence “I was the best man”

“You too?” Jacob said surprised “Are we the last ones to discover this?”

“I didn’t know until today either, Mr Kowalski. Although I have been having my suspicions since you two were students. You have never been good at hiding your feelings, Miss l/n”

Dumbledore laughed from the other side of the room where he was leaning on the wall absent-mindedly eating his piece of cake. A privileged position which he took advantage of to listen to the whole discussion.

“Or should I say Mrs Scamander now? Congrats anyway, thanks to your marriage Professor McGonagall owes me ten galleons now” Gasps of shock echoed between the bakery’s walls.

Your husband made himself comfortable, his hands now proudly around your waist in a gentle grip.

“Thanks Professor” he replied.

“When did you make it official if I can ask?”

“Just after he returned from the war. We wanted to keep it simple, Newt and Leta were the only guests” You softly squeezed your husbands hand.

“And when were you planning to tell us?”

“Jacob, sweetie, focus on what is important” His wife corrected him “Why didn’t you tell us?”

You two shrugged the question off. Being honest, you had never truly hidden your union, not intentionally at least. Theseus did not wear his ring on his finger, but in a necklace around his neck. Too afraid that he would lose it in a mission due to his work as an auror; so you decided to do the same. He didn’t keep the gesture of love low-key either. Always calling you pet names or protectively staying by your side. But it was true he did the same for Leta and his brother, and that kisses were always reserved for closed doors for unknown reasons. With those reasons, it was understandable that your friends hadn’t realized sooner you were in fact married. They just took you for an old friend duo. How wrong they were, but as no correction had been said before by either of you they were still ignorant of the fact.

As they say: “Actions speak louder than words” and that was exactly what your husband did. Arms tangled around your hip and lips that were leaning for a kiss which ended up in a resounding applause. In the next years you would receive endless teasing for it, but enjoying the moment you couldn’t care any less about it.

#theseus scamander x reader #theseus scamander x y/n #fantastic beasts x reader

[onlyyvette]

TF Titty Headcanons Pt. 1

❏* — warnings — sub/bottom characters(autobots) + dom/top reader + robo titties(duh) + nipple piercings + lactation + breastfeeding kink + rough sex + degradation + praise + breeding kink + heat cycles + i love giving them sappy nicknames + prowl needs his own warning

❏* — a/n — if I have to be plagued with horny thoughts then you guys will suffer too

also, I'm willing to take more requests on which characters(especially decepticons) I should do for part 2 ^-^

➾ AUTOBOTS

✦ Optimus - As the leader of the autobots and one of the last living Primes, it shouldn't come as any surprise that Optimus is well-endowed. His tits are large and bouncy— they defy gravity in every sexy way possible. The Prime's chest is a white-ish color, plush and pillowy, a perfect to touch and perfect to cuddle. Before becoming a Prime, his boobs were already big but now, they produce mineral-rich energon. He sometimes finds himself upgrading his chassis armor because his tits often press up on his windshields, sometimes popping his chassis armor. On rare occasions, he might even be lactating— It's very distracting, and he always gives embarrassed yet wholehearted apologies whenever his fellow autobots are met(blessed) with the sight. It might even happen that one of the decepticons he meets on the battlefield start tripping over themselves as they gawk at his chest. Optimus lets out low, silky moans whenever his tits are fondled, his audials twitching with sensitivity. He's very open about his tits. He has no problem with his berth partners wanting to grope them, even suckle on them. If his partner wanted to, he would absolutely let them lay him out on his spinal strut just to fondle and suck on his nozzles, drawing out any energon they can find. It's a bit embarrassing for Optimus to admit, but it's not too hard for him to overload just from having his refineries played with. All Optimus needs is the feeling of having servos grabbing his plush chest and constantly rubbing his nozzles, maybe even his partner clamping their dentae down hard on his nozzle for him to let out undignified sounds and squirting all over himself. As much as Optimus enjoys having warm servos massage his tits with care, his moans go up a pitch when his tits are bruised and left with marks from sharp dentae. Whether his partner apologizes for their rough treatment or not, they definitely knew that the Prime got a little wetter from it.

✦ Ratchet - Ratchet has huge tits and I will die on that hill. No doubt about it. Ratty's tits are a dark gray, matching his faceplate. They're big and hefty, hard for a mech of even his size to cup them fully into their hands. While he would rather die than admit it, he definitely loves to have his tits played with. As a medic, Ratty's boobs produce much more energon than your regular cybertronian, which causes him to need to milk them often. Whenever he starts producing extra energon, it's always a pain to deal with because it leaves his poor tits swollen, nearly pressing up against his windshield, and so sensitive when he ends up leaking energon. It's so hard for him to milk his tits on his own so whenever he's at his most frustrated and sensitive state, he has to begrudgingly go to another trusted mech for help. Even though he insists on it being strictly professional, his cute whimpers and the dark blush on his face always betrays his neediness. During the war, Ratty was definitely known for not only being the best medic Cybertron has seen, but the medic with tits that make the sweetest tasting energon. Whenever he's treating his patients, almost all of them ask if he could provide some energon for them with his generous breasts. Even though they try their best to be subtle about it(except for the most shameless mechs), Ratchet always knows their reasons, but he'll still provide it anyway because it's in his nature to help others. He just has to make sure not to get release his panel and reveal his already drooling valve during the feeding, which is going to be really tough for him.

✦ Drift/Deadlock - Drift's tits aren't the biggest but not the smallest(definitely bigger than Rodimus' though) , but there's still nothing about them that you can't love. His protoform there is a darker color just like his faceplate, and sometimes flushes a cute pinkish color. Drifty has very sensitive tits and will let out a little squeal if they're groped too roughly. He's not too keen on showing his chest to anybot, especially when he still went by Deadlock, due to his more private nature. But when he has a partner to show them off, they are one lucky mech. Whenever someone is mindful with how they treat Drifty's tits, massaging them softly, rubbing their digits over his nozzles with practiced care, he absolutely melts in pleasure. He lets out small eeks of pleasure while his finials twitch in response to the stimulation, his frame shivering like a turbo-rabbit . His whines and slight pouts are so attractive whenever his tits are played with. Drifty tries so hard to seem like he's unaffected but it's so hard for him to do when both his faceplate and his tits are both flushed pink with energon. When he was known as Deadlock, even in bed, he would be known for being feisty and a little too eager to bite. But the moment servos are on his tits and slowly groping them, he gives up all resistance and tries his best to stop the little moans threatening to come out from his vocalizer. He'll still have a look that screams "make fun of me about this and the last thing you'll see will be my gun" but it'll be softened by his half-shuttered optics and and his breathy whines tumbling from his intake.

✦ Rodimus - definitely has small tits. And he is proud of them!!! He loves to show off his tits to his partners in berth and has possibly opened up his chestplate to show them off to any crewmates that flatter him enough more than once, maybe even let them cop a feel. His boobs are a white color similar to his faceplate. He has very perky nozzles and he will whimper when they're tugged on. Even though his tits are smaller than the average cybertronian's, they're still just so adorable, especially with the way his nozzles slightly flush blue when he's aroused. Roddy knows that people are into his tits and he uses it to his advantage. Whenever Magnus is boring him to death with reports on ship maintenance or whatever, he shoves the datapad or anything that Magnus is holding in his servos, brings the huge mech's helm down to his level, and pushes his tits into Magnus' face with a cute little "ta-da!". There isn't much to push into the big mech's face but nonetheless, it's effective. He would giggle a bit and ask Mags if he liked his tits and Rodimus is left with a short-circuiting Ultra Magnus to explain to everyone. He's tried that move on Megatron too, but it's sadly not as effective on him, though the ex-warlord definitely does enjoy the view.

✦ Prowl - This praxian definitely has huge tits-- that's what his bumper is for. Now his bumper is great and Prowl definitely carries it with pride, but his titties are the real star of the show. His protoform are a dark gray compared to his faceplate. Unlike most mechs, Prowler has custom nozzle piercings: a pair of gold piercings(they cost him a mean amount of credits) and a pair of silver hoops. He switches between pairs each day. They're so big that he sometimes has a bit of trouble transforming his bumper over them. He loves to tug on them while he fingers himself silly because the pain is so delicious that even a few tugs can get his pathetic spike overloading and his messy valve squirting. While Prowler berths very few partners, he loves to get his tits fucked by a spike big enough to reach past his cleavage and into his open mouth. Whenever his partner tugs on his nozzle piercings while fucking his tits and hisses out some degrading words, Prowl's vocalizer lets out a whoreish squeal-- he probably overloaded right then and there. Prowl for sure loves his titties. He may not be on Starscream's level of narcissism(no one can reach his level), but he sometimes like to check himself out in a mirror or camera to admire his busty chest, groping himself and gently tugging on his piercings as he begins to pant and his fans click on. It's at times like this that he often dreams about being subjected to obscenely kinky scenarios: his tits being bitten down on harshly as he's forced to continue riding his partner's monstrous length, his partner hooking up pumps to his nozzles to activate his energon lactation and leave him hooked up with multiple vibrators stuffed up his valve and aft and left overloading silly for hours, or being left in a dirty alley during his heat cycle, all his panels open while he drips energon from his tits and his pussy leaks lubricant all over the ground as he's left in a spike-hungry state, just about willing to let anyone fuck him as long as they'll ruin his pussy and fill his gestation tank with transfluid.

#vetty's works. ✿ #vetty's thirsts. ✿ #dom reader #top reader #transformers #transformers x reader #valveplug #maccadam #optimus prime #optimus prime x reader #transformers ratchet #ratchet x reader #transformers drift #drift x reader #rodimus #rodimus x reader #transformers prowl #prowl x reader