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solbaby7 · 11 days

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I Dare You

pairing: cassian x reader

warnings:prolly some typos, kinda douchebag!cass but very minimal, sexual tension, swearing, mentions of drinking, (literally have any of you ever gone bull riding before? bc that shit is not for the weak)

summary: Cassian doesn’t think you’re capable of letting your hair down to have some fun. I dare you to prove him wrong.

—

Someone must’ve laced your drink.

They had to have.

It was the only logical explanation for the unusual feelings beginning to churn knots in your gut the longer you took in the handsome planes of Cassian’s face.

Usually, it was easier to overlook when you were sober, too off-put by his demeaning comments and endless sexual innuendos to truly focus on the sharp cut of his jaw or the stubble that resided there. The tempting plush of his bottom lip captures your focus, its glistening from the cheap beer overflowing his cup and the foreign thought of what they would felt like pressed against your own evades your senses.

You blame it on the ambiance.

This place was no Rita’s, not nearly as cozy or tucked away but something about the clubs hypnotic hues of rich purples and soft blues casting over Cassian’s cheeks had your head slowly tilting to the side in silent appreciation.

Had he always had that dimple when he smiled?

“Truth or dare?” Mor yells over the thumping music, effectively breaking you free from your trance and stealing your attention. A bright grin is plastered across her face induced by the empty shot glasses on the table before her.

Your head shakes on instinct, not nearly as prone to letting loose as the rest of the Inner Circle. The outfit alone was far enough out of your comfort zone as is, allowing Mor and Feyre to use you like a baby doll; curling your hair and applying makeup over excited giggles and shared bottles of bubbly. The borrowed fabric sticks to you like second skin, its halter neckline more comfortable than you’d care to admit and the cool breeze of passerby’s on your exposed back is welcome. The tight bodice blends seamlessly into the flowy skirt that tickles the middle of your thighs, showing off more leg than you usually cared to bare but it had looked too nice against your figure to complain. “I don’t really—“

“Don’t even bother,” Cassian interjects, a beer clutched in one hand while the other rested lazily on the back of the booth. “She always says no.”

“That’s not true.”

It was.

You blamed it on their High Lord’s inability to complete his paperwork and file them properly afterwards. When you’d first arrived, there had been centuries worth of paperwork strewn about his storage room in no true order with the subjects varying from treaties and common laws on trade routes to pages worth of detailed documentation dividing up ownership of land. Blueprints for potential and current properties with box after box of receipts kept to keep track of the billing it took to run such a place—much less a whole city.

Simply put, you’d been stuck in work-mode; refusing casual outings and generous offerings of chilled bottles shared over dinner for months until you’d finally made a dent sizable enough to satisfy you. There’s no point in bothering to explain any of that to Cassian though, biting your words over the rim of your glass and the burn on your tongue is soothed by the sweet mixer. “Oh really?” He goads, a cocky glint in golden eyes as he leans forward, shoulders straining in the dark cotton of his shirt . “Answer her then, truth or dare?”

There’s a long pause—one long enough for Rhysand to clear his throat, fully prepared to diffuse the situation but your voice cuts through before he can. “Dare.” It’s spoken stronger than you feel and you muster up the courage to meet his eye as if you hadn’t just been gobbling up the miles of endless muscle packed onto his body.

“I dare you to let loose for once in your boring little life.” Feyre scoffs her disapproval at his wording, a hand smacking at Cassian’s arm but he doesn’t react as if he can even feel it. He’s utterly fixated on you, body language lax and still somehow emitting such a domineering presence it makes your feet shift in high heels. “Unless you’re too prude to even let your hair down?”

A brow arches and you ignore the burn creeping up your neck at the looks your friends are sharing, clearly having a mental conversation on who was going to have to intervene this time. Saving them the trouble, you comply. “Fine.” You’re too occupied in chugging the remnants of your drink to notice the surprised expression crossing the General’s face. He doesn’t miss you though, witnessing a mischievous darkness clouding your eye before you rise from the booth and squeeze through the endless sea of bodies.

“I don’t understand your problem with her,” Mor grumbles with distaste, a hand outstretching for the latest round of drinks being provided by the waiter. “She’s nice.”

“She’s boring,” Cassian promptly retorts, eyes sifting over the crowd in search for a flash of your dusky red dress but it’s nowhere to be found. His spine straightens ever so slightly, the grip on his glass tightening in his silent surveillance for you. “When you said you were hiring a female who’d be around so often that she’d be living with us, I hoped she’d be more…eventful.”

“Is that truly your reasoning, brother?” Rhys drawls out playfully, tugging his mate in closer to his side. A glass of whiskey is in his free hand, tilting the bottom of it tauntingly in Cassian’s direction as he pretends to ponder. “Or maybe it’s because you keep antagonizing her in hopes that she’ll notice you and yet she barely gives you anything back in return? Her passiveness must eat you up at night.”

It earns the High Lord a few laughs and even Azriel can’t hide the amused upturn of his mouth at Cassian’s expense but the Lord of Bloodshed can’t even begin to be bothered with that.

Not when his sights finally land on that sinful shade of red gripping at the curves contained within them. Cassian can’t even hear his family anymore, eardrums tuning out everything that wasn’t you as he watches the way you lean in towards one of the nicely dressed workers with a smile. The exchange is quick but Cassian doesn’t miss a thing, noting the challenging quirk of the males brow and he leads you behind a thick curtain that sectioned off a portion of the bar he hadn’t even noticed until now.

Words can’t describe the way losing his visual on you makes his skin itch, wings twitching with his irritation and the tense line of his shoulders doesn’t release for even a second. A plethora of thoughts plague Cassian’s mind. Surely you hadn’t taken his jest as an invitation to go be with some other male? Even if it would’ve been well within your right it was the furthest from his intentions.

“Run out of witty remarks?” Rhysand prods further, voice full of humor but there’s a hint of serious questioning lingering in his eye. “Or have I stunned you to complete silence?”

Feyre catches on quicker than her counterpart, following Cassian’s line of sight, watching as the same curtains you’d disappeared behind starts beginning to rise, a thundering chime ringing through the bar. “I don’t think it’s you who has him speechless.”

The others follow her gaze and quiet fascination sets root when more space is revealed. Situated right in the middle of the newly revealed stage is what seems to be the magical apparition of a fake bull, complete with horns and a nose that huffed out smoke. It’s one hell of a spectacle that has the inebriated crowd cheering with joy at the promise of such extravagant entertainment. “Trouble is in the house tonight. Let’s welcome her warmly.” The male announces, guiding you into the light and spinning you around for all to take in.

Cassian’s teeth grit together, disturbingly aware of every eye and muttered comment directed your way and his fingers twitch for the familiar weight of his sword. “No way...” He whispers in complete disbelief as you approach the bull with a practiced ease, hoisting yourself on its back with the swipe of your leg.

The motion is fluid, thighs shifting to get situated and the new position hikes up the hem of your dress. All the bare skin that is revealed makes his mouth water, elbows leaning against the table to brace himself.

Your gaze finds Cassian’s easily in the crowd, a devious smirk forms in the corner of your mouth and the wink you send his way has his cock twitching to life in his breeches.

Music flows through the space—a sensual tempo with a bass so deep it rattles the very blood in your body. There’s no explaining why you find such a comfort in it but you submit to the numbness it provides anyway, relishing in the absence of thought as you melt into the beat.

One hand latches securely around the saddle and the well-dressed employee begins his skilled control of the bull. It’s a slow rock, movements mechanical and jerky but you make it look graceful—hips shifting back and forth over and over as the speed increases. You barely look up, too caught up in synchronizing your body with the music, spurred on by the generous cheers from the other drunken fae with energy to burn and coins to spend.

Faster and faster the bull rocks, spinning you from left to right but your remain saddled in place, core strong and thighs braced for the chaotic jostling. Haughty whistles cut through the crowd when the bull abruptly tips forward, shifting the fabrics of your dress until you were face down, ass up and flashing the lacy boy shorts you had on underneath. “Come on,” You whine prettily to the male in control of the mechanism, hair spilling to one side of your face and a pretty blush fans across your cheeks at the salacious exposure. “That all you got?”

“Hold on tight.”

You’re grateful for obtaining the good sense it takes to heed the warning because in an instant the bull is jerking back to life, spinning and rocking in an attempt to shake you off. Jubilant laughter pelts free, hair blowing in the wind and dress flashing more of the soft skin that Cassian was just dying to get his fill of.

He’s been bested—that much the Commander can admit but it doesn’t feel like a loss when you feed his filthy fantasies without even trying. The roll of your waist will surely plague his dreams but the effortlessly seductive glint in your eye will haunt him to his dying breath.

It doesn’t dissipate. Not even when you finally tap out, easing yourself down on shaky legs and shuffle back to the shared booth with a breathy huff.

A peachy sheen has overtaken your cheeks at the bewildered stares your friends give you for your performance but the mess of your curls splaying around your shoulders has Cassian’s heart racing when imagining the others ways he could put you in such a state.

The others watch in complete silence as you steal the beer right from Cassian’s hands, cool condensation dripping down your fingers but you pay it no mind. “It seems that I am plenty of fun to be around,” He watches the slow roll of your throat as you swallow, unable to look away. “But that’s usually reserved for after hours.”

Cassian’s gaze darkens under the implication, lids heavy with desire. “Noted.”

#acotar x reader #a court of thorns and roses #acotar x you #acotar #cassian fic #cassian x reader #cassian x you #cassian smut #cassian acotar #cassian fanfic #cass fic #cassian #lord of bloodshed #acotar fics #acotar x reader smut #acotar smut

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odusseus-xvi · 8 months

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The French Speakers lore update cause we keep getting fed I'm not complaining ever again

General French lore :

- The Plane crash was planned. The survival of the five was planned, the deaths of the pilot and co-pilot are not considered casualties by the Federation. "He" was succesful in this mission.

- A flight attendant survived the crash but was heavily injured. Is currently under care from the Federation.

- (all of this was found by Baghera while looking for infos on her origins.)

ETOILES :

- Is an anthropomorphic Cucumber. Origins unknown.

- Has seen and been attacked by the Code on his first day while away from Spawn. Has missed every apparition for a while after that.

- Got his first fight against it during the election dinner. Ensued fights after fights for a while, with him being victorious in every single one of them.

- Got led and trapped in the Nether for a week. In which he was tasked with finding CPV02 , a legendary shield which counters the Code Sword. He found it and came back to the Island.

- Was then led to a coliseum where Code Pomme tried to trick him. He won the fight and got a broken half of a code sword : renamed IMMORTAL. Got a full sword at a later fight, and multiple messages telling him to "protect."

- His left arm started to use the power of the shield to heal itself. He lost his left eye in the process.

- Lost a fight against three Codes after that. Lost his Shield, Sword, and will to fight.

- Got taunted by the Codes and accepted some kind of rematch, which he won. The Code then made a proposal, help their fight against the Federation, and get his Shield back. He accepted, though said he would betray the alliance if they hurt thé islanders or the eggs.

BAGHERA JONES :

- Is a Duck-Human hybrid.

- Received a black Shulker with coordinates in her castle leading her to her childhood room. She was left shocked from remembering. The Federation retrieved her to prevent her from dying. She "woke up" around 2 weeks later in a Federation treatment room, which led back to her castle though a tp plate.

- Following informations are what she found in Books looking for her past.

- She was raised, experimented on and tortured by the Federation when she was little. She tried to escape by using a boat and a distraction using fire, but she failed.

- She had two caretakers. One was nice. The other replaced the first one, and looked like it, but was mean.

- She was fully created by the Federation along with other hybrids. She was probably a succesful attempt.

- Back to recent évents.

- She is extremely perturbed by the informations she got, and has been questionning her aliegeance to people of the Island.

- She burned any books that indicates her link to the Federation.

- Found a book containing coordinates and passwords of Fédération experimental laboratories, and departed to find out more.

- Was hired by the Federation to work at an extremely remote Federation Winery (1M blocks away from Spawn.) and traveled for a full week straight using one of his machines.

AYPIERRE :

- Is supposedly human.

- Started having dreams of having brain surgery performed by a White Bear. Succesfully built a Dream Printer Machine and printed this dream, proving it is actually a memory.

- Was appointed a health check by Cucurucho. It performed test on him, asking questions about his physical and mental health.

- Found hidden documents written by Fred. Following informations are what it relates :

- The Federation were after information he posess. They tortured him till almost death. They instead brought him back to health and got the information through performing brain surgery. (What they are after is currently unknown)

- Back to recent évents.

- He received a ticket to Quesadilla Island numbered 004 through the dice room.

- While falling asleep with the radio on, he received a vocal message from what seems like Cucurucho talking to it's "beatiful robot" and saying it was left behind, and would come back. He also received text message telling him that he would find thé answers by sleeping and dreaming.

ANTOINE DANIEL :

- ???

- Has a fourth face. It is hidden for a reason.

- Types "I hope you enjoy the island" in the global chat a bit too much for my tastes.

KAMETO :

- Left and is currently missing.

#qsmp #qsmp baghera jones #qsmp etoiles #qsmp aypierre #qsmp antoine daniel #qsmp baghera #qsmp antoine #qsmp kameto #qsmp french

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miserycanary · 17 days

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MISSION: LOVE KILL ᡣ𐭩 [trailer]

pairings: Simon 'Ghost' Riley & fem!reader

synopsis: the trailer to my very first full-length series set in a soulmate AU.

pairings: (applies to future parts) angst, smut, fluff, mutual pining, misunderstandings, rivals to lovers to rivals, featuring Ghost's inability to communicate, graphic mentions of violence, might hint to sexual violence, BARELY PUT TOGETHER, torture, one bed trope, i-will-wait-for-you trope, loving-you-is-like-breathing trope, slowburn (unless I get bored and rush this), poor poor attempt in crack, will add more as we go on

The subtle searing pain on the back of his neck is enough reason for Ghost to hate the idea of soulmates existing. It wasn’t just the fact that he has lived up to his 30s feeling like a fire wasp is buzzing under his skin, it was that the government fully developed their system with pairs in mind. You mean to tell him that he has to have found his partner—who’s probably cities or even continents away—just so that he could fucking own property? Utter fucking bullshit, he calls it.

‘Nutjobs! The lot of them’

It was also the fact he had to watch his mum’s so-called soulmate almost beat them up to death each day. How could someone whose single purpose in life is to torment them be his mother’s soulmate? Fate either has a weird take on the concept of love and the whole shenanigan or it’s fucking wicked. Either way, the S-word has left a bad taste in his mouth—and memory. He would rather die, not having property—or anything really—to his name if it means that he wouldn’t comply to the fucking standards of pairs.

Or so he thought because, once again, life is fucking wicked like that.

When he first broke the news that he would be retiring from the army, he expected his future days ahead full of smooth-sailing lounging. Maybe a cup of tea in hand or even some biscuits if he was feeling fancy. Imagine his shocked face when he inquired with a real-estate agent to finally have something to call home, no longer needing to stay by some cheap hotel with what his little pay could afford, that he cannot fucking do that!

“Yeah, this would be good. Really nice stuff here,” Ghost gruffs. “Yeah? Well, let’s get started then. Um, here are the paperworks that you need to fill out. Uhh, you just need to input your government code and your partner’s. It is policy that you bring your pair in with you when it comes to legal documents, but I’m sure that we could make an exception for our veteran here,” the agent smiles; one that Ghost did not reciprocate. “I ain’t got a missus with me. Haven’t found them yet.”

It was a simple explanation, not wanting to dwell too much on his reasons. Before he could even take the papers in his hand, the man retracts. Confusion etched on Ghost’s face while pity is on the man’s. “Oh, I am really sorry but you are legally required to have a partner before you could own property—or anything for that matter.” Ghost looked this agent for a good few minutes, anticipating the ‘sike’ that he desperately wishes to hear but only dead silence echoes. “Surely you could, say, make an except for a veteran?” he nervously chuckles out, trying to weasel his way into a fucking home. Nothing. Dead fucking silence that’s heavy with pity. Ghost loathes it.

Without even saying a word, he turns his back and starts walking towards the car he rented today, because you can’t even own a car in this government! He should have flagged it as weird when the lady in the car shop insists that he should rent first before buying something. So, now he sits in the dingy bar that Soap has dragged him into after he informed the force that he would not be settling anytime soon. After explaining his circumstance, he expected them to react like he did before, but no. They all replied like they knew this. Even saying stuff like, “you didn’t know?” Of course he didn’t! It wasn’t like Ghost was invested in property or anything for that matter while he was serving. All he cared about was surviving each day, and that is it.

“Aye, cheer up, lad. Life ain’ that bad. Ya’ just gotta get them lassie, and all yer problems would go away,” the Scot on his right drunkenly offers advice—a shit one at that. Did he really think Ghost hasn’t stepped foot on every land they got deployed with heavy hopes that he’ll find whoever he needs to find there? He fucking hates it here. He should have not retired this early if he knew this would happen. Now he needs to go around the world and search for the lassie whose presence—or her lack thereof—is the root of all his problems.

If finding a needle in a haystack is hard, imagine finding a lady that’s probably moving countries as he speaks with Soap. “Yeah, like that’s fucking easy,” he scoffs, rolling his eyes before lifting his mask just enough to down his shot of whiskey. The fiery burn of the alcohol down his throat is nothing compared to the one on his neck. He would rather have it cut at this point than to go on about this miserable lifetime any longer.

“Should I just cut and peel it off?” he mumbles to no one in particular; probably to Fate if that shit is listening. Seeing that no one else in the rundown bar is really paying attention to him, Soap takes the honour in replying to him instead. “According tae what I’ve seen, jobby pain is hee haw compared tae th' pain ye will feel in yer heart. Doctors say that th' pain goes tae th' heart instead while tripling”. Unprompted, Ghost curses like a fucking sailor. Saying stuff that will probably get him on the government's watchlist if he wasn’t part of the military serving this goddamn country. He risks his life daily and this is what he gets? Ungrateful bastards.

With a slam of the glass on the mahogany table, he stands up with a new profound determination. “Fuck it, I’m finding that missus if it’s the last thing that I do”. “Eyy, that’s the spirit, matie,” Soap drunkenly encourages him, which should have been the first red flag on this idea. Any idea supported by Soap is an immediate botch.

Well, what could go wrong? He’s retired anyway.

Turns out, many could go wrong. Well, here’s to the fucking shit-show of his life.

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱: please give this love!!

dividers by @cafekitsune

Please reblog!! Ask is open!

⟢ taglist is open!! @hotvinimon

check out my other works in the masterlist: ୭!

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reverieblondie · 6 months

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Be Sweet to Me

Chapter 1

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara X Fem!reader

Warnings: None for this chapter, but there will be eventual smut, Pining, and teasing. For now- Fluff and Miguel struggles with grumpiness and realizing his touched started, but he's just over worked. Alternating POVs

Summary: People say many things about you're co-worker, and sure he's not the most social but you won't give up being friends with him! Little do you know Miguel is juggling so much in his life, and getting used to you is proving to be more difficult than he thought.

A/N: I am so excited to be finally be making this series! The Alternating pov's is different than what I normal do, but I think it works best for this story! This is heavily influenced by the song Be Sweet by Japanese Breakfast. Unsure how many chapters this will be, so look out for updates! if you would like to be tagged please comment to let me know!

Word count: 3,447

Part 2

“Y/n, I need you to organize the samples and make sure that all the documents are in order before the meeting.”

Giving a slight huff you stop your work, turning on your heels to face your coworker.

“Okay, but what's the magic word?” you playfully tease with the slightest hint of condensation.

Turning his head you see the unenthused glare in his eyes despite them being shaded behind the round tinted glass. You're still not fully convinced he needs those things inside, some kind of light sensitivity he's explained once but you suspect he might just like the cool guy aesthetic it gives him. Though you wouldn’t blame him if that was truly the case, it does look kinda cool.

Face scrunched in that way you have gotten used to seeing over these past few months since working here at Alchemax. Chiseled jaw clenched shut, his full lips pressed in that iconic frown, thick brown hair styled back to try and tame the unruly waves, and tall bulky figure that you used to be intimidated by, (okay, sometimes you still are) but you have slowly adjusted to your co-worker: Miguel O’Hara.

He stared at you for a beat before turning back to his work without another word, his oh-so-subtle way of telling you to shut it and do as you're told. “Alright alright, I’ll get it done. Don’t have to tell me twice.”

One thing you have learned about working with Miguel is he may not always speak with words so if you want to create an effective work area with him you have got to be good at reading his expressions. Working with a guy like Miguel had its challenges, for one his mood: he's not exactly the easiest to get along with, and people call him cold or cocky depending on the day.

Then there was how busy he kept himself, always working on something, typing on screens, working with experiments, or tapping away at that clunky watch of his. Even on the days he’s not around due to him ‘working from home’ you can tell just by his face that he hadn’t given himself time to rest. What on earth could keep a man so busy? Well…you had an idea or two…

Despite his grumpy demeanor you were determined to become friends with Miguel. It didn’t matter what others would tell you about him or how much he distanced himself, you saw the subtle glances, the repressing of smiles, the slight cracks in the shell, You two would become buddies you were sure of it. Maybe he just needed someone to show him the effort, to be sweet to him, then maybe he could lighten up and bring his walls down.

Pulling out all the stops nothing was going to stop your attempts, you were always nice (even on days where that was particularly hard) Helping with things he didn’t ask of you, organizing and cleaning up behind him. Coffee was always a winner, you knew exactly how he liked it too, you kept making different attempts then stopped on the one where he wasn’t making a face while he took his first sip. -Success!

Then there was the friendly encouragement, pats on the shoulder, and high fives. Sure he seemed hesitant to them at first but he slowly became used to them, baby steps.

Every passing day was closer and closer to your friendship blossoming!

Magic word…was she serious? Why should he say please? It's her job to listen to what he tells her and do what he says considering he’s worked here longer. Miguel keeps typing away at his computer, lamenting in his mind how his co-worker was quite the character.

Miguel couldn’t deny that having a co-worker who was tasked to help him in all his research did help him out more than he would ever admit. Having to juggle the secret identity of Spider-Man, being the leader of the spider society protecting the multiverse, and having to keep his role as head geneticist in Alchemax. Everything could get taxing very quickly on him. Layla was a great AI assistant but she was limited, so having an actual person tagging along to help him with work was bearable, though…you were a bit exuberant and that was taking some getting used to.

The jokes, the odd habits, your clumsiness, the smart remarks you mumbled under your breath, your overwhelming friendliness. All this he could begrudgingly handle, but the thing that was still overwhelming him was the touching! Sometimes it wasn’t even touching at all you would just be so close.

First noticing it when you would stand so close that he would accidentally bump into you, if he was looking at a sample you were leaning over him to watch. You had no spatial awareness, running into him, running into things! The first month of you working here you broke so many things by running into them he thought they would run out of beakers.

Then the friendly gestures started happening. Miguel was used to people keeping their distance, meeting his gruffness, but you…oh no…you must have seen it has some challenge! The encouraging words, patting of his shoulder, spontaneous high fives, squeezing past him in tight areas, adjusting his coat for him, dusting off crumbs from his chest! Your Friendly proximity made him tense, it was…new and different, and he didn’t know how to handle it.

Though it could be worse, you could be a completely useless idiot. To Miguel’s surprise you did have a brain in that head of yours, so the trade-off for actual decent help was some playfulness from you he would just deal. It’s not like he wasn’t used to playful coworkers, the spider society made sure of that. Still, you were different…and that blossoming tingling your touch would leave on him…it was…annoying.

Miguel's eyes move over to you as he watches you begin the task of organizing the samples and getting everything prepared for the meeting. Begrudgingly he was tasked with having to explain the recent studies and developments the two of you had made. The meeting was honestly bullshit, he hated having to report to the chairman, but they liked to keep a thumb on Miguel, making sure he was still their best brain. In fact, you had offered to take over and run over the presentation for Miguel but they denied that, had to be him…bastards

For a moment you turn your head and look towards Miguel meeting his eyes, you shoot him a thumbs up and a smile, that friendliness still shining through. With an annoyed huff, he turns away getting back to his work. Still adjusting…

The two of you worked diligently for a couple of hours, in silence of course, there was no time to get distracted with chatting when so much needed to be done. Rubbing his hands over his face he could feel a wave of extortion taking over him. Sleep was something he wasn’t getting regularly, there was just never enough time in the day so sacrifices must be made.

Eyes growing heavy and vision slightly blurring he feels himself slipping, but he can’t, he won't. Then a shrill alarm begins to blare from Miguel's wrist snapping him back awake. Miguel is quick to place his hand over his watch and sneak out of the lab unnoticed, lucky for him you were too concentrated on your work to notice his absence. Checking the message on his watch, it is a local emergency, something he can handle in fifteen minutes tops. With a quick few cracks of his neck, he's leaving to save the city again.

Stretching feeling accomplished in yourself getting everything prepped single-handedly. Roaming your eyes around the lab you note the lack of bulk in the room. Huh, no Miguel? He must have done one of his disappearing acts again, probably just going to lunch without you. Invite yourself to lunch with him one time and now he doesn't even tell you when he's going. Matters on that guy, oh well, you might as well go get something before the meeting anyway. Coming to a stopping point you gather your things for a nice quick bite in the cafeteria.

“I can’t see how you can work with him.” Ah, so much for a nice quick bite…

Sitting there trying to enjoy your lunch it’s the usual suspects who come to sit next to you, talking more at you and around you rather than to you. You can’t help but think that this annoying tinge you feel is what Miguel felt when he was ambushed by you. Though you couldn’t have been as annoying as these people. Complainy and gossipy types are not the best combos with your meal.

Their subjects range from many topics like complaining about work, to failed experiments, personal problems, idol gossip, then it lands to the one directly aimed at you…Miguel. As soon as the question is asked you're looking up from your food to see all eyes on you. Chewing quickly and swallowing to ask your question.

“I’m sorry what?”

Sophia groans, “O’Hara, how can you work with him?”

“Uh, well he does his thing, I do mine?”

Julius chimes in “Isn’t he a total dick to you though?”

Cassidy is now giving her input to the topic, “Oh I can only imagine what you go through on the daily.”

“Well ac-” trying to interject, you can’t even get a word in till you're being cut off by one of them.

“Yeah! Like I bet he is always bossing you around.”

“And probably insulting you in some way,”

“One time he called my team brainless idiots because we messed up one small thing” -it was not a small thing, that took you and him an all-nighter to fix…

“That was-” you try again only to be cut off once more.

“Oh, and he is always being rude!”

“God, how can you work with that monster!”

With that last comment you had it, the noise wasn’t meant to be as forceful as it came out but they kept cutting you off and then bad-talking your research partner, you were fed up. Slamming your hands on the table with a hash slap, effectively silencing them, you rise from your seat grabbing your tray in the process.

“If you have issues with him you should speak to him like he’s a person. He’s not some monster. Sure, he is not exactly social, but if this is how people talk about him behind his back it makes sense why he keeps his distance... I've lost my appetite, excuse me…”

With that, your lunch break was over.

“Spider-Man!”

“You saved us!”

“He’s a hero!”

“But…he’s kinda a jerk…”

“Didn’t he punch an old lady before?”

“I thought she punched him?”

Uhhgg…would anyone ever get that story right? Miguel is prying the last bus hostage off him as they cling tightly to him. The vulture from his dimension was up to his usual antics but he made quick work of him and was now cleaning up the shocking mess. Having to save the people from the bus was no big deal, it was the pushy reporters, camera lights flickering in his face and the clingy person keeping themselves pressed to him that was the pain to deal with. Taking deep breaths he’s trying to keep his cool, but he can feel himself threatening to boil over.

How come he can’t just ever save people and leave? Why was there always this extra crap to deal with? Finally getting the person off and seeing that all of what he could do was done he's trying to get out of there, but people can be so pushy…

Questions, Comments, Flashing lights, Praise, Criticism…he couldn’t help but snap,

“Get out of my way! Leave me alone! And for shock's sake, try to learn to protect yourselves!”

The crowd was shocked by this sudden outburst, but this should have come as no surprise from the grouchy hero. Spider-Mans in other dimensions were always known for being friendly, witty, funny, and nice to all they saved, Miguel didn’t exactly follow this blueprint. Miguel didn’t exactly mean to sound rude, just being a hero gets exhausting and patience was something he needed to work on.

Miguel hears the gasp and murmurs amongst themselves about how he’s a dick, a jerk, arrogant, blah, blah…

Rolling his eyes, hidden underneath his mask he couldn't help but think of how irrational these people could be, say one thing the public wasn’t fond of and they are at your throat. It’s all of a sudden no longer how he just saved a busload of people, or saved the city by defeating a villain; No, now it’s about how rude he was.

“Jerk!”

“Boo!”

“I hate you Spider-man!” -great…this just makes everything so much better with this thankless job.

Swing off before the police come to further irritate him. As he swings back to Alchemax he’s wrapped up in his thoughts. This hero thing was not easy…everything he did wasn’t right, not what people wanted…he was always messing up in some way…nothing was ever good enough, he had to stretch himself thinner and thinner, keeping everything together. The pressure is immense…

Getting back to Alchemax, he changes and tries to resume back to his work, the fight had successfully woken him up but now he’s starving. Eating like sleep has also become a thing he has had to cut for the sake of time, but something quick should be fine before he gets back to work.

Stopping by the cafeteria Miguel immediately spots you sat by Sophia, Julius, and Cassidy, not good company for you to keep. Well honestly anyone, they might catch their stupid. Making sure to be as unnoticed as possible last thing he needs is you trying to wave him over to your table. Coffee with a bagel is all he needs to grab so he can make his escape back to the lab. Grabbing a coffee that thankfully wasn't made by you, his sensitive ears can’t help but catch what's being said at your table. No surprise it’s about him.

Listening in he is catching fragments of the conversation sipping his coffee trying his best to ignore the meaningless conversation, till a remark of him makes him pause at the threshold of the entryway.

“How can you work with that monster!”

Monster…huh…is that how people see him? Mutated, sure, grouchy, and tempestuous maybe, But a monster. A ping in his chest makes his hands tighten around the cup. Talons threatens to poke through but he resists. If they want to see him as a monster then so be it…he doesn't care…

Suddenly, a slam, followed by your familiar voice catches him by surprise,

“He’s not some monster. Sure, he is not exactly social, but if this is how people talk about him behind his back it makes sense why he keeps his distance”

“Not some monster…” Your words can’t be helped from echoing through his head. You sound so angry, you never sound angry. Looking over he sees your face furrowed in a glare. He didn’t think your face knew how to do that. Watching as you walk away in a haste away from the table he's leaving to his usual eating spot hidden away from others.

Taking his shades off in the empty break room he dims the lights down as he sinks into one of the chairs. Finally getting even a moment of a break, even taking time to peacefully relax he finds he is unable to. Even sitting leaning back he still feels teased, irritated, stressed. Trying to shut his mind for even a moment, a second of a break he finds it to be an impossible task. But as he sits, his usual stresses fade to be replaced by your words. Miguel could have cared less about what those idiots had to say about him. The surprising thing was that you were defending him…not that he needed it… but it was…kind of you…

Taking a bite out of the bland bagel he groans to himself, annoyed.

It's almost time for the meeting and you're pacing outside the doors with everything ready to go, except you haven’t seen Miguel anywhere. Running behind is a thing you are not used to from him, he’s usually so timely but you haven’t seen him at all since he left for what you thought was lunch. Did he get caught up doing something else?

Minutes tick by and you're growing more anxious by the second. Would he just not show up? It’s a possibility, but he would be putting both your asses on the line, though he didn’t have to worry much about that, they wouldn’t fire their best brain, but…you're a bit more expendable.

Before you can continue thinking about your ass being on the chopping block Miguel is rounding the corner adjusting his coat and walking in a casual strut. Looking at him as he approaches you notice his appearance looks a bit different. That shirt does seem a bit wrinkled and his tie is completely messed up from earlier. What has he been doing? Mid-day workout? Did he have an accident in the lab and have to go change? But the clothes are the same, just wrinkled.

Or was he doing something else… Thinking for a moment over what you could be doing that would cause messed up clothes an image of a sweaty grunting Miguel pops into your brain. Pushing down the thought with an internal slap to yourself you decide to greet him as friendly as possible.

“You're running behind Miguel” -okay you can’t help but tease him a bit. Friends rass each other all the time.

“Yeah, got…caught up in something…” he speaks hesitantly, suspicious…

Miguel gets ready to go inside but you quickly grab him by the shoulder to get his attention “Hold on there, you can’t go in there looking like that”

Turning to face you, he looks at you confused then looks down at himself, “What? I look fine.”

Scoffing, you roll your eyes and point to his chest where his tie is haphazardly knotted together in a rushed fashion.

“Your tie” Before he can protest your hands are already getting to work losing his tie gently, “Let me help you”

With the silk tie undone hanging down his chest, you're moving your hands to raise his collar. As you concentrate on the task your eyes are fixed on his neck you observe that as your fingers slightly brush over his warm skin his body teases slightly. Straightening his neck, you know he’s about to say something.

“Why are you nice to me? I know what others say about me, so how come? Are you trying to pity me?” His voice is stern and this isn’t what you were expecting out of him right now. Did he hear you earlier?

The slight laugh that escapes you couldn’t be helped. Moving your hands you cross the two ends to tie in a classic Windsor knot. “Leave it to you to think someone being nice to you is just a ruse to pity you. I just want to be nice to you.”

Remaining silent you continue to loop and twist the tie, your knuckles blushing over him, you swear you see his skin pickle up for a moment with a slight shiver. Finishing up, you tighten it to his neck and carefully fold his collar back down, keeping your eyes on your work at hand, you watch as his Adam's apple slightly bobs as you adjust it properly.

Sliding your hands to the silk tie you brush your fingers down the soft fabric straightening it while laying down flat against his chest. The feeling of his chest tightness under your fingertips and his breath seems to be slightly slow, you don’t know if he is hating this or being relaxed by it.

Meeting his eyes, they are unshaded for you to observe their burgundy hue. His face is still stern looking but you know this one has that slight softness in his eyes, meaning his listening, he is waiting for you to speak again.

“I want us to be friends, simple”

Miguel's lips slightly part as if he was about to speak, but before he could the conference room doors opened with them calling Miguel in. Turning to you there is a look on his face you're not completely used to, but that will have to wait for now. Giving a quick pat to his chest you smile up at him.

“You got this Miguel, good luck.”

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macabr3-barbi3 · 2 months

Text

A Practical Demonstration (Alastor/Reader)

The deal you made with Alastor leads to an unexpected demonstration.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54229351/chapters/137324059

(ayyo I never posted the first and second chapter of this so: here we go!) Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Tags: Sex Toys; Non Sex-Repulsed Alastor; Reader-Insert

“What in the nine rings is that shit?”

“Hi, Angel,” you greet him as he came into your room, not bothering to close the door fully behind him. “As always, nice of you to knock.” You’ve got a wide spread of documents scattered across the desk, various color schemes and books on light studies and all sorts of shit that Velvette had asked you to look into for her. You don’t mind helping out where you can but you had been at this for hours, and Angel showing up unannounced was always a good way to distract you when you were trying to work.

The demon shrugs. “Eh, ya get used to it,” he says with a grin, his sharp teeth coming into view, the gold one glinting in the light from your desk. “But for real, what is that thing?” He points to your nightstand, where the rose toy you neglected to put away sat on proud display.

You flush and race across the room, throwing the toy unceremoniously back inside. “It’s really nothing,” you tell him, and when he approaches you spread your arms out to try to keep him back. “Angel, come on-”

He’s sprouted his third set of arms to reach around you, opening the drawer and pulling your newest gift out from the top. “Come on now, ya don’t gotta be ashamed if it's a sex thing!” He lets it sit in his hand as he poses with the rest of his arms, blinking coyly at you in his new position. “I basically am a sex thing, baby, it don’t bother me none!” He holds it up to inspect, and when he brings it a little too close to his face you drag his arm back away. “Where’d ya get this thing?”

It was a gift from Velvette, something new that Vox and Valentino had created together that your friend had felt compelled to shove into your hands one day. “Keep it on the low, yeah?” She had said, an eyebrow raised and a cocky smirk on her face. “New product, can’t be lettin’ it get in the wrong hands but Satan knows ya ain’t gettin’ any action in that rickety joint of yours.” You had blushed and stammered and protested but ultimately had taken the damn thing, placing it on the nightstand in your room when you returned that day and not touching it beyond the one time you turned it on- just out of curiosity- and saw the force of the suction that it could generate.

“Velvette gave it to me, and it’s a sex toy,” you tell him, and he gives you a knowing look.

“Ahh, she’s still tryna get ya laid, huh?” You close your eyes and give him a tight nod. “She still doesn’t know about your thing for tall and freaky?”

You slam your hands over his mouth, eyes darting to the partially open door, not noticing the shadow that slipped into the room mere moments before. “Angel! Shut up!”

“Whaaaat?” He complains, pulling your hands away from his mouth. “It’s not like it’s a secret- pretty much everyone knows except the Strawberry Pimp himself, and-”

“And,” you interrupt him, taking the toy from his hands and throwing it back into the nightstand, “I would like to keep it that way. And don’t call him that,” you add as an afterthought.

Angel groans as he started walking away. “Spoilsport,” he calls over his shoulder. “Ya never let me have any fun.” He exits the room and purposely leaves the door fully open this time, and with an eye roll you follow him, sure that Charlie and Vaggie have dinner ready by now.

Alastor is there when you stroll into the dining room, his customary smile in place as he looks at the two of you. “Evening, friends!” He greets you, and you give him a smile back. “I’ve saved a seat for you, my dear,” he says, and pulls out the chair to the right of the one he normally sits in.

Your face flushes, and Angel snickers beside you as he goes around the table to sit by Husk. “You don’t have to do that, Alastor,” you tell him, and his grin sharpens dangerously.

“But of course I do,” he says smoothly, quietly, fanning out his napkin to sit across his lap as he sits. “What would dear Velvette think if she knew we weren’t getting along?”

Your spine stiffens, and a glance around the room confirms that no one else had heard him. It was the only point of contention between the two of you, really, the deal that you had made with him to keep Velvette safe from the insanity of the other Vees.

He owned your soul, and any of your knowledge of the more recent aspects of technology on Earth that could potentially help him in taking down Vox. In return, he would not specifically target Velvette when the final confrontation with the Vees took place, content with simply obliterating Vox and Valentino- provided that Velvette did not take any actions directly against him.

Velvette knew about your deal and the part you played in ensuring that when the Vees fell she would not be part of the carnage. They had thrown her under the bus not long before you came to the hotel, placing the blame for a series of footage and info leaks on her social media platforms, and she was more than happy to let someone else seek her revenge for her. She kept the benefits of working with the Vees- ‘no harm done,’ she had told them- and had the extra reassurance that when they fell she would remain on top. She knew you seemed happy enough to work with Alastor when he asked it of you, and was pleased that the deal didn’t seem to be a hardship on you.

He didn’t often use that against you like this though, like her safety was a bargaining chip that went hand in hand with his personal happiness or mood. You hadn’t even said anything bad! Just that he hadn’t needed to save you a seat beside him. You were thrilled, honestly, and just mostly nervous about him catching one of your looks or blushes when you watched him too closely.

You gave him a smile regardless. “Right. I appreciate the gesture then,” you say, and don’t see the way that his grin extends as he watches you sit and start reaching for the food laid out on the table.

Dinner is a strange affair. Throughout the night Alastor seems to keep finding excuses to turn his attention to you, only to harshly refute or ignore what you say in response. His leg is twitchy under the table and keeps knocking against yours, to the point that you turn essentially sideways in your seat to stop it from happening and talk to Vaggie and Charlie instead. At the end of the meal you walk yourself to your room slowly, tired beyond belief, confused and a bit hurt by Alastor’s behavior.

To your surprise, the Radio Demon is in your room when you close the door behind you. You startle a bit, not expecting him, and at the sound he looks up from where he sits at your desk, the documents you had for Velvette organized into a neat stack. “Hello, my dear!” He says, and rises from the chair to approach you. You look to the floor, not wanting him to see the hurt you’re sure is reflected there, but he places a sharp tipped finger under your chin and raises your head to look at him. His smile is softer, his eyes lowered a bit as he gazes down at you.

“I want to apologize for my behavior at dinner,” he says, and you heave a relieved exhale. “Upon reflection I do see that my manners were abysmal, and there was no need to treat you in such a fashion.”

“It’s okay, sir,” you say, but when you start to take a step back more of his fingers come up to grip your face, holding you in place. “Um-”

“Ah ah ah,” he admonishes. “I wasn’t finished. In addition to my apology, I did have a query for you in regards to our deal.”

“Of course,” you tell him, and your heart has started beating a bit harder in your chest now with the way he’s looking at you. It’s impossible to tell when he’s angry with the smile most of the time, but his expression is even more unreadable now than it usually is. “What is it?”

He pauses for a moment. “Is there any form of technology that you are uncomfortable with the thought of showing or demonstrating for me?”

You blink slowly a couple times, the way you’ve seen Lucifer do when he doesn’t understand something that someone has said to him. “Uh. No, sir, I don’t think so.” Part of your ‘job description,’ as Alastor put it, was sometimes showing him non-television style technology and demonstrating its uses for him. You had gone over flip phones, Walkman's, CD players, pagers, and more recently some small tablets and compact computers. Digital cameras were out of the question, as were actual televisions whether they be old or new.

He didn’t like any of them, would have rather not bothered with the whole idea by his own admission. But he felt it necessary to understand what he could about the things that gave Vox so much power over people, and being the most recently dead at the Hotel you had the most up-to-date information. You were also one of the few who didn’t begrudge Alastor his preference for older tech- you had died while AI was a big thing on Earth, and that had freaked you out enough at times that you could appreciate hardwiring that didn’t talk back to you unprompted. Usually he stood a few feet away, far enough back that he could still watch without interrupting any frequencies, and allowed you to walk him through the various uses of the device.

“Lovely!” He says at your response, and then straightens up and crosses the room towards your bed of all places. “Now, I noticed at dinner that you’ve seemed quite out of sorts lately. Are you getting enough rest?”

What?

“Yes, sir, I think so,” you tell him, eying him warily. “I’ve been doing a lot of studying for Velvette to help with her shoots- light composition and all that, but-“

He makes a noise at you, something that sounds like an admonishment. “Come now,” he says, “you mustn’t be neglecting your beauty sleep for a Vee, even if she is the most tolerable of the lot!” He takes a seat on your bed- what? - and gently pats the pillow at the head. “In you go, my dear. I can’t have my little assistant lacking.”

You raise your eyebrows but decide not to argue on the matter. He’s been in a weird mood all night, and you really are quite tired at this point. You approach cautiously, climbing into bed the opposite side of where he sits. “If you say so, Alastor.” You lay back against the pillow, not bothering yet to get under the covers. “I’ll see you in the morning?” You glance towards the door, hoping that he will rise and leave you.

“Hahaha!” He laughs instead, rotating his body so that he can face you more fully. ‘No, I think not my dear! I’ll stay to make sure you get some proper shut-eye.”

Your heart beats faster. No way would you be able to actually sleep with him in the room. “That’s really okay,” you try to tell him, but when you sit up he places a hand gently on your shoulder and guides you back down to the pillow.

“Naughty girl,” he admonishes, and the words send a rush of heat across your face. “I truly insist! You rest up, and I’ll be right here to ensure that you do!”

“Oookay,” you finally agree, and lean back against the pillows stiffly. It's torture for a long few minutes, where you try to regulate your breathing and not focus on the fact that he’s so close to you, in your bed. Eventually though, despite your heartbeat in your throat, you do start to relax a bit.

“Hmmm.” Alastor hums where he sits in the bed next to you, and while his smile is, of course, still present, his eyes have a kind of far off look in them.

“Alastor? Is everything okay?”

“Oh, quite alright!” He says in his typical fashion. “But I must admit I find myself rather curious about something, and I was hoping you could help me gain some enlightenment.”

“Sure; however I can help.”

“Splendid!” He claps his hands together. Your nightstand is enveloped in shadows, and when it re-emerges your rose toy sits front and center on top. You choke on your spit a bit, sputtering as Alastor looks at you. “I heard you mention to Angel Dust that this is a ‘sex toy’ earlier, but you didn’t go into any further detail! What exactly is the function of such a thing?”

You were going to drop double dead right here in your bedroom, with Alastor sitting atop your sheets and looking curiously between you and the toy. “Oh God, uh…” He raises an eyebrow, prompting you to continue, but you can’t seem to find the words. “Shit, um, that’s not really- it’s kinda a private thing,” you sputter out, but he just continues to smile at you as you attempt to sink through the bed, through the floor, into a special kind of Hell reserved for moments as awkward as this one.

“I confess, my dear, a contribution to my terrible manners earlier stemmed from the idea that you might be holding back information.” He plucked the small device off the night stand and turned it this way and that in his hand. “When I thought about how you mentioned to Angel that it was a ‘sex toy,’ though, I realized that we had never established any sort of boundary as far as what kinds of technology you would show me per the confines of our deal!” He placed a hand to his forehead, an exaggerated face palm. “Which was quite silly of me, of course.”

You were going to stop breathing.

“Naturally I wouldn't want to make you do anything that would make you uncomfortable,” he continued, tucking the hand not holding the intimate technology under his chin to look at you thoughtfully. “And really, I doubt this is any kind of device that could do any true damage in the coming battle between myself and Vox. But one can never be too sure!”

He holds it out to you, and though you take it with trembling hands you are still trying to explain. “Sir- Alastor - this is very much not the kind of technology that you would be interested in.”

“Oh but I am!” He assures you, and he sits cross legged now beside you. “I am quite interested in learning more about such a strange device. And did you not say that there was no technology that you were uncomfortable with demonstrating?”

“Well, yes, but-”

“And- pardon my eavesdropping, of course- did you not also tell Angel Dust that you received the device from Velvette, a known ally of my personal enemy and a demon bent on destroying me?”

You close your eyes tightly. This was too much. “Yes, I did. But-”

He makes a noise at you, like a parent would to an unruly child. “Well now, how am I to know that the device was not planted on Velvette by the others? Not merely a gift to a friend but something orchestrated by Vox to destroy me and everything I care for?” He reaches out a hand, brushing his fingers against your cheek. “I would so hate to see you harmed, my dear. Will you not show me how it works to ease my worried thoughts?”

Your breath is stuck in your throat as you swallow hard. You… suppose he raised a valid point, as awkward as you felt about it. You knew that despite your deal he felt some apprehension about allowing you to spend so much time with Velvette, even with what you were providing him with in return. If this was what it would take to ease some of the tension in his mind…

“I… okay,” you said finally on an exhale, and looked back down at the toy. Your voice trembled as you held it up for him to see. “Do you… I mean, usually you stand a little ways away, sir.”

His grin stretches up his face, eyes glowing red as he watches you fiddle with the object in your hand. “Oh no, darling, I’m quite content right here.”

“Right.” The blush on your face nearly permanent at this point, you rotate the device so that you can reach the button on the side. “There’s this little, um, button on the side to turn it on.” you press the button and the noise immediately starts, subtle but all too loud in the space between you and Alastor. Your cheeks are burning. “There are a few different uh, strength settings. For the. Suction.” The smile on Alastor’s face is etched in stone, and he leans closer to you as you cycle through the different speed settings. You can’t look at him anymore, dropping your eyes into your lap as you hold up the toy. “Next, uh…”

“What is the suction for, dear?”

When you look up you nearly jump back in shock; he’s moved even closer, his face right in front of yours when you’ve brought it up. “I- what?”

He places his hand over yours on the rose. “The suction. Whatever could it be for?” You try to lean back and he follows you, bent nearly in half as he does. “You could use-”

“No!” You push the toy into his hands, desperate for escape from this situation, but his smile doesn’t waver. “I mean, not no no, but- you don’t want to see that-”

“My dear.” He sets the device to the side, using one of his hands to bring your face up to look at him. He comes even closer, essentially crawling across the bed and hovering over you- what the fuck what the fuck- while you do your best to sink into the pillow. “As entertaining as it is to see you so flustered, I truly was looking for a more practical demonstration. Won’t you show me?”

If your heart flutters any harder it will burst from your chest. But he’s being so insistent that he doesn’t mind the nature of the device and that he wants an actual showing of how it’s used. You take a deep, shaky breath and commit to it- he’s asked, and you’ll indulge Alastor anything he asks of you. You reach to the side of him and take hold of the toy. “I haven’t, uh. Used it before,” you tell him.

His eyes flash red and the smile stretches as he leans back the slightest bit. “No time like the present then!” He chirps, the static in his voice more pronounced that it had been thus far. When you move your hand to your waistband you hesitate, but his eyes zero in on the movement. “By all means,” he says, “don’t stop on my account.”

Another deep breath and you clench your eyes shut, not able to make eye contact with him as you remove your bottoms. With your eyes closed you don’t see the way that his widen; so focused on your own breathing that you don’t notice his sharp inhale at your movements as you settle back into the mattress. You keep your eyes closed as you bring the toy to your lower body, debate for a moment, and decide to position it before switching it on.

You’re hyperaware of Alastor’s gaze on you even without being able to see it. Your hands tremble as you place the small gap in the top over your clit, spreading your legs slightly for a better angle. A hand on your thigh makes your eyes fly open, and when you make eye contact with Alastor you clench them shut again, unable to do this knowing that he’s touching you-

Without realizing, your hands have tightened their grip on the toy and pressed the button to turn it onto the lowest suction strength. The sudden strong sucking on your most sensitive spot has a harsh moan tumbling from your lips, your head tossing back into the pillow and Alastor’s fingers tightening imperceptibly on your skin, claws digging in ever so slightly. It's so much and so sudden, almost overwhelming, and you’re not sure if you should curse Velvette or send her a gift basket.

“What does it feel like?” The static is gone from Alastor’s voice, and when you find the strength to open your eyes he’s much closer to your… demonstration than you would have expected him to be. Close enough to taste, not that he would, but the thought of it alone has your hips lifting from the bed, desperate for more that you know he won’t give you.

“It’s so- ugh, fuck,” is what you manage, and his eyes are hooded and focused so intently on you. You hope that this is giving him whatever information he was hoping to gather, because there was no way in any of the nine rings of Hell that you would ever be able to look him in the eyes again after this.

“Eloquent, darling,” he says, still no static to the words, and then his spare hand is placed over yours on the rose toy and jumping the suction up by a couple levels.

Another unbidden moan rips itself from your chest, your free hand clenching the sheets on the bed as Alastor holds your other to the toy on your clit. You’re soaked by this point, arousal dripping onto the sheets below you, and you’re so close already without the added stimulation of the harsher suction. “Fuck fuck fuck, God,” you get out between your panting, and his chuckle brings your gaze back to him, not realizing that your eyes had rolled back as you rode the waves of pleasure.

His other hand, the one that had been on your thigh, is now posed by your entrance, his glove discarded somewhere on the bed and his fingers mere centimeters away from where you suddenly, desperately want them to be. “There’s no God here, my dear,” he says darkly, “but perhaps I can be persuaded to worship you instead.” The suction increases again, his pressing of the button subtle, but it's too much, too much-

Your vision goes dark with the strength of your orgasm, the coil in your stomach snapping as you arch up with a drawn out gasp of his name. There’s static in the room, drowning out the sound of your cries as you ride through your release, and you can just barely see Alastor through your half-closed eyes, his own eyes lidded and his pupils blown wide as his smile is stretched as far as the sudden green stitches would allow.

He holds down on the power button to turn the device off, pulling it- and his hands- away from your body. You allow your eyes to drift shut, breathing heavily as you lay back into the pillows. You can hear the vague sounds of something moving around, your nightstand opening and closing though the space on the bed is still dipped down from his weight. You’re trying to gather the strength to say something, to explain yourself maybe- because how could you let yourself get so far gone that you said his name mid-orgasm, Jesus- when the dip in the mattress disappears.

“Well, that was quite enlightening!” You hear him say, and when you drag your eyes open he’s standing on the other side of the bed, his expression totally normal aside from the permanent smile. “I do so appreciate your compliance, my dear, in helping to ease my mind about such a strange device.”

“I- yeah, sure,” you manage to get out without stuttering too much, and how composed he is now, while you are still half naked and heaving from your release, has your face flaming. “Anytime. Happy to help.”

His eyes lower. “Funny you should say that! I did notice a few more devices in your drawer- were these items gifts from Velvette as well?”

You had forgotten about the variety of other toys you kept near your bed, and your blush renews, your face hot at the thought of what he had seen. “No, sir,” you tell him, and he makes a little humming noise similar to the one he had earlier.

You think about how his pupils had been so dilated, his fingers poised and ready to join the fray while you used the toy, and add as an afterthought- “Some of them are uh, VoxTech brand though.” You hoped you weren’t wrong, and the positively lecherous look that his smile takes on confirms it for you.

“How interesting!” he exclaims. “I suppose there may be other demonstrations in order then, hm? After all, it never hurts to be thorough!” He holds a hand out to you and you place your own into it, allowing him to bring it to his lips for a soft kiss. “And I do plan on being quite thorough, darling. I hope we can find the time to reconvene soon- in the meantime, sweet dreams.”

With that he melts into shadows and vanishes, and no sooner than the black puddle on the floor disappeared have you whipped your phone out of the pocket of your discarded bottoms. You text Velvette first, a series of emojis that she has no hope of deciphering- her response of ‘TF r u on about???’ confirming that thought- and then Angel, asking for recommendations before pulling up the VoxTech website and taking a look at the options you don’t currently have in your drawer.

Like Alastor said- it doesn’t hurt to be thorough!

#hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #alastor #alastor the radio demon #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor smut #x reader #to quote the tag from ao3 #jfc what is wrong with me #my stuff <3

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bhaalsbabe · 7 months

Text

This desk has seen everything

Pairing: gn!durge x Enver Gortash

Label: nsfw

MDNI

Summary/warnings: minor spoilers for durge & ending of act 2, durge is a magic user, inappropriate use of magic (tentacles), sub!Gortash (flashback), weird power dynamic, violent thoughts concerning Orin, pining Gortash, there's not that much smut but I might do part 2

Author's note: writing again after a very long time; nice, supportive comments and reblogs are very much appreciated <3

When you met Gortash for the first time after losing your memories, you had a feeling he wasn't telling you everything. You remembered the look he kept giving you. You've seen it many times before, often on your companions' faces; the barely hidden desire burning behind the eyes, the longing look that was focused solely on you, the quick glances at the shown parts of your skin. Yes, when you thought back about it, you're actually pretty sure there was more to your past relationship with Gortash than just being partners in crime.

Your curiosity was what led you into his office - alone. You weren't worried about him trying to take advantage of the situation to take Ketheric's netherstone from you. Your magic was more powerful than ever and the powers you gained from the tadpoles you consumed have been awfully useful as well. So you entered the room he resided in with confidence you probably used to have back in the days of your glory.

"Ah, have you taken care of Orin already? You're even faster than I expected." He looked up at you from his paperwork, an easy smile on his face.

"That's not why I'm here," you finished walking all the way to his desk before sitting on it, looking down at him. "You weren't telling me everything back at the coronation, were you?"

He leaned back in his chair, smirking as he eyed your sitting spot.

"Perhaps..." he mused, putting down the quill and focusing his attention purely on you. "I take it you're looking for something specific?"

You nodded, quickly scanning the documents on his table to see if there's anything that would catch your attention. You noticed the name 'Ravengard' on one of the papers but before you could read the rest, Gortash took the entire pile and put it into a drawer.

"Bureaucracy has never been your thing. Why, I can't even count how many times you interrupted me in the middle of something just because you were bored and wanted me for yourself," he laughed with his eyes closed, probably reminiscing of one such time.

"Really? I can't imagine why," you said dryly, glaring at him all unimpressed. Suddenly, he stood up, going around the desk to stand next to you, close enough that you could feel the heat of his skin. As you turned to face him fully, he leaned over you, his arms trapping you in place. When he spoke next, his breath, smelling of expensive wine, hit your face.

"You were a greedy little thing. Always taking, rarely giving anything back." Contrary to the message, he sounded almost nostalgic, a lazy smile plastered on his handsome face.

"You probably just didn't deserve anything in return." You shrugged, noticing how his eyes kept dropping to your lips. He chuckled, tearing his gaze away from your mouth.

"I see you haven't changed that much," he mumbled under his breath, before finally pressing his lips against yours in a searing kiss. You felt a surge of desire run through you as your brain full of holes supplied you with a brief memory.

The once proud Gortash, naked and bent over the very same desk you were now sitting on. In this memory, you casually lounged in his chair, watching as a variant of Evard's Black Tentacles kept plunging in and out of his ass and mouth, as well as wrapping around his body to keep him from squirming too much. His gurgled moans were music to your ears. His submission to you had always pleased you.

You broke the kiss with a gasp, back to the reality where the same man pushed you onto your back, his hands exploring your body in a starved desperation. His dark eyes bore into yours with an intensity that made you shiver.

"Gort-"

"Enver," he corrected you immediately, not even letting you finish. "Always Enver to you."

You stared at him, the realisation dawning upon you of just how close of a relationship you two had. He pressed his hand to your cheek almost tenderly, and you weren't sure if you were ready for the depth of what exactly he's been keeping away from you.

You pushed him away right then, your head hurting as you tried to remember if you held any feelings for him, hatred and bloodthirst rising in you fast - Orin is going to pay for taking everything from you, you were going to enjoy choking her with her own intestines and bathing in her blood -

Everything was a blur as you ran past him, never noticing his concerned expression as he was left there standing, speechless and way too excited from your little reunion.

#durge x gortash #bg3 smut #gortash x durge #gortash x reader #bg3 x reader #gortash x dark urge #dark urge x gortash #enver gortash x dark urge #enver gortash x reader #Gortash smut #after dark #durgetash

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kishibe-kisser · 7 months

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A request for the genshin boys having a sweetheart that is an amazing cook and baker? Like they cook the most delicious foods for them when they get home! And is good at cleaning too. Like having a domestic housewife. Could you please include Zhongli, Alhaitham, Diluc, Kaeya, Itto, and Kazuha? Thank you!

Ask p.2: I’m following up on the request for the genshin boys having a sweetheart that can cook. You don’t have to do Itto or Kazuha. Sorry I just now read requests can have up to four characters. Sorry again!

A/N: It's okay!!! I hope you like this

Zhongli:

While he might have an air of nostalgia to him, when it comes to you he's not as old fashioned as everyone might think.

The first time he came home from after work to a home cooked meal and a fully cleaned house, he was grateful but a little unsure of what to think of it all. The food was delicious, the dessert even better and the house was absolutely spotless.

Which led to him pulling you into his lap as he sat at the head of the table, stroking your sides gently and looking into your eyes. "You know you don't have to do this, right?" He would ask, making sure you knew that this wasn't a necessity if you wanted to be with him.

Once you reassured him it was because you wanted to, he let himself relax and enjoy it. Feeling great everytime he got home to find everything had already been done and a warm meal on the table. He'd gladly make you his little housewife any day.

He would never come to expect it though, gladly picking up the cleaning chores when you couldn't or treating you to a meal in return.

"If you're sure this is what you want to do, I won't stop you. Just let me help every once in a while."

Alhaitham:

It was definitely different, coming home to a house that smelled like food cooking or like something baking in the oven. It was something he could get used to.

Especially in the morning, waking up to an empty bed and the smell of breakfast wafting through the house. While he normally didn't like waking up in the morning, you certainly changed that. Especially when fresh baked bread was sitting on the counter.

Not to mention when he worked from home, finding all of his documents neat, labelled and easy to find. He loved that you took care of him like this. It was simply nice to come home to a neat and comfortable environment.

While he wasn't one to express gratitude in words, you could tell in the way he hugged you from behind in the morning, kissing the side of your neck as you cooked breakfast. Or in the way he would gently shield you as you opened a cabinet too quick or got too close to the corner of a table or desk.

Not to mention he liked watching you cook too. It was so attractive to watch you, even that he would let you know in the way he touched you. His hands lingering on your hips a little longer than normal, or turning the stove burners off to pull you aside.

"I know I don't say it alot but all you do for me, it means the world."

Diluc

"You know I have maids for that." He'd say, the first time he caught you cleaning around the house. Wrapping his arms around your waist to pull the duster from your hands. You would have to put him in his place a little, telling him you enjoy cleaning for him.

The remarks stopped the moment he ate the food you had cooked for him though, appreciating the time and care put into the meal even though you knew you didn't have to.

It's not that Diluc would expect you to do this for him, not at all. But when it became common practice, he had to admit he enjoyed it. Finding pastries in his clean study when he would go to work, or a packed dinner when he would work at the tavern.

"You're spoiling me too much. Keep at it and I might get used to it." He would mumble into your neck as you stirred the pot of food in front of you. He would spoil you with touches and small gifts, a thank you for the way you take care of him out of love and not like the others for money. A pretty necklace for his beautiful house wife.

"It's only fair I spoil you in return."

Kaeya

The man who never thought he would settle down crumbled at the sight of you preparing the table for him when he got home, knowing you were the one from that instant.

He had been travelling for a while but never anticipated to coming home to a full meal, dessert and a clean home. Not to mention the way you looked at him. It would have him on one knee so fast.

When it became a regular thing he was more than excited about it, so happy someone was willing to spend their time to take care of him. He would practically cry admitting how much it meant to him. "I don't think you understand how wanted it makes me feel to have you take care of me this way."

The knights of Favonius would be absolutely sick and tired of him gushing over the food you packed him for lunch or the way he bragged about the way you took care of him. He was so happy about it Jean even came over one day to make sure he wasn't making you do it.

"Can I help you, dear?" He would most definitely help anytime he was home and things needed to be done. He might have liked watching you but he wasn't a barbarian, he'd help you. Kissing you quickly every time he walked past you or tickling you with the feather duster.

"No one can believe how lucky I am to have you and well, neither can I."

A/N: I wrote this in record time too because inspo suddenly struck me for this request! Anyways the way feminism leaves my body for Diluc is concerning.

#genshin reaction #genshin x reader #genshin impact #zhongli #zhongli x reader #alhaitham #alhaitham x reader #diluc #diluc x reader #kaeya #kaeya x reader

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xxbimbobunnyxx · 5 hours

Text

Older!DinerOwner!Eddie x Fem!Reader

This is for my 1.6k celebration based on the prompt “make me” requested by @gri959 ❣️

Summary: You’ve been fucking your boss for almost a year now and he still won’t make it official, so you decided to take matters into your own hands. Wk: 1.5k

Warnings: Age gap(Eddie is early 40s reader is mid 20s), jealous/possessive Eddie, spanking, hair pulling, unprotected sex, breeding kink. 18+MNDI!!

You were driving Eddie absolutely insane, and you knew it too. It was like somehow your little work dress seemed even tighter tonight and the way you were walking around swinging your hips, leaning down on your hands in front of customers faces, giving them a nice little peek at your perfect tits.

It didn’t help that you were being extra flirty with the new line cook, Alex. He was your age and he honestly kind of reminded Eddie of himself when he was younger. Why would you want him when you could have the newer model? But despite his insecurity that was rearing its ugly head, Eddie knew he had you wrapped around his thick ringed finger and that you were just doing this to rile him up.

“When you’re done with this table, come talk to me.” Eddie brushes past you while you’re taking an order, leaning down to whisper in your ear. You make eye contact with him just long enough for him to see you roll your eyes as he’s walking off.

“What’s up?” You walk over to where Eddie is standing behind the counter near the register and look up at him all innocently, which you are far from.

“What’s up? You know exactly what’s up, I know what you’re doing, quit it out.” Eddie looks down at you through slanted eyes, his tone a gruff whisper.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about? I’m just doing my job.” You raise an eyebrow at him and set your lips into a mock pout.

“Drop the innocent act. You’re trying to make me jealous, just admit it.” He smirks at you and leans down further than is probably appropriate for a boss and employee, but he honestly doesn’t give a fuck, it’s his diner, he can do whatever he wants.

“Why would I be trying to make you jealous? There’s nothing going on between us, right?” You turn your head slightly, lowering your voice even more to make absolutely sure only he would hear. “It’s just physical, right? So why would you be jealous?”

“You know what?” Eddie’s jaw ticks as he exhales through his nose. “I want to talk to you in my office after we close.”

“Yeah? About what? I have plans.”

“And I don’t care. I’m your boss and I need to speak to you about something regarding your job. Now get back to work.” He walks off, not giving you time to argue further.

“Okay, what’s the deal?” You walk into Eddie’s office, pushing the door closed behind you and stand in front of his desk with your arms crossed.

“Are you serious?” Eddie scoffs, abandoning the document he was signing on his desk in favor of glaring up at you.

“Umm yeah? You told me to meet you here and you didn’t say why so I’m asking what you wanted? Pretty normal if you ask me.” You shrug and Eddie swears he can make out the faintest hint of a smirk on your lips.

“Oh, sweetheart, don’t play games you know you’ll lose.” Eddie chuckles, pushing up from his chair to come around and lean against the desk in front of you. “You really thought you were being sneaky? Prancing around here like that, bending over right where I can see, flirting with my employees, did you get a new bra? I’m not blind, baby.”

“Like I said before, there’s nothing going on between us… so… why would you be jealous?” You fully smirk at him now and god he wants to wipe it off your pretty little face.

“Just admit it, you were trying to make me jealous.” Eddie returns your smirk with one of his own as he leans back on his hands and crosses his legs. He’s so hot in those black Dickies work pants and his non-slip converse. He has on his restaurant manager shirt that accentuates his toned chest and shows off his thick tattooed arms. His hair is in that low bun that you love to rip out when he goes down on you and his facial hair is just a little longer than usual. Fuck.

“Why don’t you just admit that you were jealous then?” You give him a pointed look and he exhales through his nose because he’s about at his limit with your attitude.

“You know what? Bend over the desk.” He steps to the side, patting his hand against the wood.

“Why don’t you make me?” You roll your eyes, a dry chuckle escaping your lips, and that’s his final straw. He closes the distance between you and laces his fingers through your hair, pulling your face so it’s inches from his as his glowers down at you with his honey eyed stare.

“I said bend over the fucking desk.” He says your name through gritted teeth as his grip on your hair tightens, causing you to whimper, your bratty facade already breaking. “I’m not going to ask again.”

“Fuck, okay.” He releases your hair and you whine as you walk on already semi shaky legs over to his desk, laying your top half across it, causing your dress to ride up and show off a sliver of your panties. “If you weren’t jealous you wouldn’t be all worked up like this so maybe you should just -“ your sentence is cut short when a harsh smack lands on your ass, making you yelp.

“Drop the attitude, doll.” Eddie’s hand pushes your dress up to reveal your plush asscheeks and tiny lacy underwear that barely cover anything. He pushes himself against you, his already hard cock brushing up against your barely covered pussy. His hands grip onto the globes of your ass, kneading it and shaking it in his palms. “I don’t know why you’re walking around here trying to act like this ass doesn’t belong to me, you know it does.”

“Maybe you should just get over yourself and make me your girlfriend then.” Your snarky tone earns you another spank, rougher than the last.

“What did I say about the attitude?” Both of his hands come down on your ass, his rings stinging against your skin causing you to moan. He does it again. And again. Until he starts to see faint welts from his rings and the marks of his handprints.

“This ass is mine.” One of his hands travels down to cup your pussy, thrusting the heel of his palm against your clit. “This pussy is fucking mine. Say it.”

“Admit you were jealous then.” Your voice comes out way whinier than you’d hoped, it practically sounds like you’re begging him as you subconsciously grind down against his hand. “Say you’re mine too.”

“You want me to be yours, baby, huh?” He pushes your panties to the side and runs his fingers through the slick lips of your pussy before bringing the tips of his fingers to your clit, circling it. “Tell me who owns this pussy then. Tell me and I’ll give you this dick.”

“It’s yours, Eddie, it’s all yours, m’yours.” You sound cock drunk already and he’s barely even touched you but you don’t even care. You want him so bad. You’re putty in his hands and he knows it.

“Yeah, that’s right baby girl, I fucking own you.” You hear the clanking of his belt before you feel the tip of his cock running through your folds, he collects your wetness, using his hand to jerk it along his shaft. He pushes his tip in, pulling it back out a few times before slamming into you. He starts fucking into you at a brutal pace, the desk sliding against the floor, your hips slapping together.

“Fuck, fuck yes, feels so good.” He’s so deep from this angle, practically bullying your sweet spot as your hips dig into the wood of the desk.

“Yeah, that’s right, take this fucking dick baby. This is my pussy, you’re so fucking tight, damn.” One of Eddie’s thick inked arms laces around your shoulders, pulling you up so your back is flush against his hard chest while his other finds your clit, his thumb rubbing quick circles against it.

“Oh god - fuck, fuck Eddie, I’m gonna cum.” You’re practically drooling as he plows into you from behind, he shoves his hand down your dress and into your bra, expertly finding your nipple and tweaking it between his fingers. “Shit, I’m cumming, tell me you’re mine Eddie, please, need to hear it.”

“I’m yours baby, this dick is fucking yours, pussy feels so fucking good squeezing me like that.” Eddie buries his face in the crook of your neck, placing sloppy open mouthed kisses there. “Gonna fill this pussy up, paint those pretty little walls, maybe I’ll knock you up, then everybody will really know who I belong to.”

“Yes, fucking fill me, fuck a baby into me, want it so bad.” Eddie groans, his hips still against yours as his cock twitches, ropes of his cum spilling inside you.

“Fuck, baby doll, fuck.” Eddie breathes heavily as he pulls out of you, grabbing onto your hips to flip you around. He reaches down between your legs, gathering the cum that dripped out so he can push it back inside of you. “Wouldn’t want any to go to waste, would we?”

Divider is by @strangergraphics & older!Eddie edit is by @eddiemunsons-missingnipple

#Dolly’s 1.6k celebration #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #older!eddie munson #older!eddie #older!eddie x reader #older!eddie smut #Dolly writes

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bonny-kookoo · 3 months

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hii!!

since you mentioned oc's period in someone older,can we have drabble related to this topic pls🙏🏽 just want to see how caring jk is

You've never really thought you'd be in a situation like this- but then again, Jungkook is surprising you constantly, so you should expect it by now.

You're sitting on Jungkook's lap right now, fully letting his front body support yours as you lean your head against his shoulder, basically clinging to him like a koala- just that you're not on his back. He's working while you rest, constant clicking of the keys from his laptop's keyboard almost like soothing background noise, helping both your headache and your nausea as you fight both simultaneously.

Sometimes, like right now when he's just browsing through Mails and Documents, one of his hands will rest on your back, occasionally even traveling beneath your soft sweater just to feel your skin.

You've told him to just leave you be on the couch, or even in the bedroom- feeling too uncomfortable to really do anything today. But he'd insisted that if you'd like, he'd want you close- just in case you want or need anything. And also, he likes your company, even if you're a little out-of-order at the moment.

You're moving around a little, giving him a little notice that you're awake again, and at that, he leans back in his chair a little to look at you. "A little better?" He asks, but you just shrug.

"I'm still nauseous." You mumble. "But I'm also hungry." Is what you complain about, making him play with the piercings on his lower lip.

"Maybe you can try something light? Just some fruit or anything you might feel like from the fridge?" He asks, unsure how to exactly help you. You've already taken some meds for it, but you've also told him that you're always a bit miserable during your period. But right now you nod, before you yawn and get up from his thighs.

"Am I really not bothering you?" You ask him, and he shakes his head as he walks to the kitchen with you, downstairs in his house. It's then that you suddenly rush into the guest bathroom downstairs, feeling the floodgates open for just a second as you slam the door shut behind you.

A knock is heard. You get ready to tell him you're alright, when his voice is heard instead. "There's some stuff underneath the sink, if you need anything." He tells you, and you reach for it, opening the tiny cabinet door- finding both panty liners, pads and tampons there.

This is so typical for him. Always prepared for anything.

Later, while he's making you tea and warms up some of the leftovers from yesterday, you realize just how.. good you feel. Emotionally at least.

"Do you like.. bigger, or smaller dogs?" Jungkook wonders as he puts down your mug of tea in front of your hands, before he sits down, oven still running as it heats up the food.

"Hm. I think, both are nice." You say, putting your hands on the cup to warm them. "I mean, your house is big, and you have an even bigger backyard. So a big dog would be fitting, right?" You tell him.

"Hm, maybe. Would you feel comfortable with a big dog?" He asks, and you squint your eyes at him.

"Are you asking me if I want to get a dog with you, mister?" You question him, and he laughs.

"Caught me. I actually have been thinking of it. A dog would be nice, right? So you're not so lonely when I have to travel again for business." He explains himself, and you shrug.

"You think we can take care of a dog together?" You ask, and he shrugs.

"I mean, we're not gonna get one like.. tomorrow. But maybe in a few months?" He proposes, and you nod.

"It'll be like having a baby." You giggle, and he laughs, watching you fondly.

"Well, right now I already have a baby to take care of."

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #bts jungkook imagine #bts jungkook fanfic

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monster-slxt · 2 years

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It was supposed to be a fun and relaxing trip to the zoo. The you got separated from your friends. The you feel into the tentacle monster enclosure. Now you're stuck with tentacles in every hole and your belly expanding with it's eggs. The onlookers are enjoying the show though.

It was supposed to be a relaxing trip to see the new exotic tentacle creature, they're so rare because it's just so hard to get them to breed in captivity so any zoo that was showing one had a big attraction on their hands. You just had to see it.

Well ok, maybe you were more excited than your friends. And maaaybe when they wanted to see the tigers you stayed behind to see the tentacle monster. So you got separated, but it would be worth it. Like, everyone's seen a tiger before, but when would you ever get another chance like this?

And you were right, it was already getting crowded. The exhibit was dug deep into the ground, a pit with rails around for viewing. It wasn't that hard to elbow your way to the front, but you weren't expecting to be knocked over the guard rails when you got there.

The fall was quick, but instead of hitting hard ground you were caught by something long and slimy. But before you can comprehend that you didn't smash into the ground you're struck with vertigo again as the tentacles position you into the perfect position for breeding.

Slimey tendrils snake under your clothes, leaving you incredibly sensitive in their wake. Tentacle slime was a very common ingredient in lube, famous for its incredibly strong aphrodisiac qualities. You're a blissed out moaning mess before you can even think to struggle, and when the first curious tentacle snakes it's way into your waist band it feels like heaven. A tentacle forces itself into your mouth, cutting off your moans and pumping more of that wonderful tingling fluid down your throat. You feel like your burning up, far too empty. You need to be stuffed full of- of something.

By now people are crowding around the enclosure, some trying to get zoo keepers to help, but most are enraptured at the show. This kind of behavior has never been documented in tentacle monsters before, and you're certainly putting on quite the show.

You barely notice when, in trying to fund a nice warm hole, the tentacle monster fully strips you. Instantly several smaller tentacles are worming into your hole, working you open for the main event. Every nerve is on fire and you can only focus on how full you feel as your prepped and stretched. The loss of contact when the creatures decides your ready feels like the end of the world, but you don't suffer long. Something even bigger takes its place and starts fucking you at a brutal pace. A crowd is really gathering now, people are recording and even though a few keepers have shown up, everyone seems hesitant to stop the show.

A new pressure builds at the base of the tentacle fucking you, and if you were less brain dead you might have panicked. But all you could even register was how good it feels to be stretched even further, to feel the bulge works it's way deeper and deeper inside you until it's deposited deep in your guts. More are quick to follow, dozens and dozens of eggs pumping deep into you, rounding out your taught stomach until you couldn't possibly fit any more.

Finally done with your holes, the creature drops you down on the ground of its enclosure, smaller tentacles caressing your swollen tummy. A keeper gingerly walks in and helps you leave once the tentacle monster fully looses interest in you. Now that there's proof of how these things breed, the zoo will obviously want to keep you around for a while. They want the eggs obviously, but they also want to figure out what make the tentacles decide you were prime for breeding. And if that turns into getting fucked full of eggs a dozen more times, well, win win right?

#asks #queer nsft #monster smut #monsterfucking #tetro #ovi #tentacles

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muddyorbsblr · 29 days

Text

the final Lady Sharpe part 5: sent away

Series Masterlist See my full list of works here!

Part of the 500 Follower Celebration Requested by: @ellooo0ooo

Summary: Your plans with Thomas are coming to an end as his machine parts arrive and you both head into the city to set into motion Lucille's arrest.

Pairing: Thomas Sharpe x Reader

Word Count: 5.2k (get a drink ready)

Warning/s: 18+ | smut (minors & pearl clutchers exit the room i only ask nicely once); vaginal fingering; oral sex (f receiving); Lucille Sharpe (yes she's a warning) [let me know if i missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: married blorbos are snowed in (oh no how terrible 😈😏); Thomas is a simp for his wife; mutual pining sad blorbos hours

Dick-tionary: smut starts at "If we cannot lay together, then at least let me pleasure you." and ends at "…except one somber truth"

Logically there was no good reason why Thomas would wake this morning in a significantly better mood, considering that he was still stuck in this manor, a death sentence care of his psychotic murderous sister still looming over your head, and tasked with a nightly distraction that even the mere thought of it made his stomach want to turn. And yet somehow, in these few moments when he got to rouse from sleep before you did, getting to really look upon your features at a seemingly peaceful rest while he held you in his arms, there was a contentment that blanketed him and kept him warm despite the biting cold of winter.

If he could keep even at least this after this treacherous endeavor was done with, if he could keep you, then perhaps he could believe himself still deserving of happiness despite all the devastation he'd wrought throughout the years. There was no version of the near future that he could picture where he would be denied the simplest pleasure of getting to see you, perhaps even hold you. And with those thoughts, his mood had begun to sour, fully knowing that that was what awaited him at the end of the road. Dissolution of marriage.

And he couldn't even fault you for that. Why would you wish to stay with him given the context on why he'd chosen to court you? Why would you have any reason to believe him if he could muster up the courage to tell you that he'd fallen irretrievably in love with you and that he wanted more than anything to try to make this marriage work? To make it real?

He traced the back of his finger across your cheekbone, his heart twisting and melting all at once when you smiled and nuzzled your cheek against his chest. "I love you," he whispered, hoping that somehow his message would reach into your dreams. "I don't want you to leave if we make it through this. I wish to stay with you. Wherever you wish to go, I'll happily follow."

You began to stir in his arms, soft groans coming from you as you slowly roused in your husband's embrace. "Hmm?" The baronet's heart caught in his throat when your eyes fluttered open and met his, a soft smile stretching across your face. "Morning..."

He couldn't resist the urge to press a kiss to the tip of your nose, doing his best to fight back the desire to do nothing more than simply to stay in bed just like this when you rewarded him with such a lighthearted, melodic giggling in response. "Good morning, wife."

"Big day today," you mumbled, failing to fight back a yawn as you worked your way out of his embrace to sit up on the bed. "Your machine parts arrive today if your supplier and the postal service is on schedule. I just have to get all the duplicate documents I've had hidden away in your workshop together so I can send them over to my contacts in Scotland Yard." Excitement colored your features as you reached for his hand, giving him a reassuring squeeze. "It's almost over. We actually did it. You're almost free."

Thomas' stomach dropped as the reality of the situation dawned on him, mentally counting back on how long it had been since he carried you in his arms across the threshold of Allerdale Hall and you concocted a plan that might grant him his freedom from Lucille's reign of terror. Three and a half weeks. He would be expecting the notice from the post office any day now. Tears prickled in the back of his eyes as your words haunted him.

You'll be free from me, too.

You seemed oblivious to the darkness that begun to plague him as you bounded your way over to the wardrobe, starting to dress yourself so that you two could grab something to eat. And check on your mail for the day.

Thomas made his way to you, gently placing his hands over yours while you did up the buttons up the back of your dress. "May I?"

"Go ahead," you said breathily, releasing your hold on the stiff buttons. Your husband took his time carefully slipping each stiff button through its loop, softly kissing your temple as he worked his way up your back.

He rushed to grab for your collar piece before you reached for it, making you both break out into light chuckles as he tightened his other arm around you, pressing a kiss to your cheek once he'd successfully grabbed the piece of fabric. "Never pictured you to be the type that had a playful mood, husband," you giggled, righting yourself and gathering your hair in your hands so he could secure the piece around your neck.

Before he could stop himself, he pressed his lips to the back of your neck, the sound of your staggered breathing and faint whimper spurring him on to press another. And another. All so that the words that danced on the tip of his tongue couldn't escape. Come back to bed. I wish to hold you a while longer. I have no desire to leave this room.

And the most dangerous words of all. Words that he never thought he would say to another and fully mean them. I love you. And I wish to spend the rest of my life with you.

"Thomas," you gasped his name like you were fighting for breath, reaching behind you and holding on to him to keep yourself upright. He groaned against your neck when your hand met the bare skin of his stomach. "What's gotten into you?"

His adamant words from many nights ago nearly slipped from his lips. You're my wife. I should be with you. It should be you.

"Can I not simply indulge in greeting my wife--"

The sharp rapping of knuckles on your bedroom door pulled you both harshly out of the moment, worsened by the shrill tone of Lucille on the other end. "If you both dawdle about, breakfast will get cold."

"We'll be down shortly, Lucille, just start without us," you called back, muttering something about mood ruiners. "We should go," you told him with a downhearted exhale, your breath hitching again when it seemed that the last few moments seemed to have no effect on Thomas, who resumed with kissing along the column of your neck. "Thomas, didn't you hear your sister? Breakfast will get cold."

"Then we'll eat it cold, darling," he mumbled, setting your collar piece back down on your dresser so he could wrap his arms around you. He turned you around in his arms, mesmerized as he watched your hair slip from your hand and fall to frame your face. "Have I told you how exquisite you look in the morning light?"

You broke out into a smile, averting your gaze from his as you made a motion to step out of his hold. "Thomas come on, we should go you need to--"

"Or how I think you're absolutely brilliant?" he cut you off, framing your face in his hands before pressing a tender kiss to your lips. Will I ever get to tell you that I've fallen in love with you? he thought to himself, savoring the fleeting moment where you returned his kiss before breaking it, taking a step backward and looking visibly flustered.

There was a long moment of deafening quiet before you spoke again, your tone soft, almost wistful. "If you keep this up, Sir Sharpe, I'll have no choice but to miss you when this is all over." Your expression became guarded, veiling to your husband the poignant fact that you, too, dreaded what would come after today.

The truth was that you already missed him, longed for him, even when he was already within your arm's reach. Just as he longed for you.

"There is still no mail that has come for your wife, Thomas," Lucille seethed the moment she made his way to his side as he fixed some tea for both of you. "I am growing quite impatient, it's nearly been a month and still no correspondence regarding her inheritance has come for her. In fact, no correspondence has come for her at all. As if there isn't a single soul that even cares to check up on her. Keep in touch. Could it be possible, sweet boy, that this Y/N is playing us for fools?"

A lump formed in Thomas' throat at his sister's suggestion, panic rising inside of him knowing how close her speculation actually was to the truth. "She did mention her father was quite the busy man, perhaps he has been overwhelmed with his work and will reach out soon."

"Well the old fool better hurry," she hissed. "The sooner we get what we need from this one, the sooner we can build toward an even better life together. Perhaps even make our way out of this decaying house. Finally let it sink to the ground."

The only better life I can envision is with the woman waiting for me at the dining table, he wanted so desperately to bite back. "Has any correspondence arrived for me, sister?" He struggled to keep his composure, forcing a smile on his face as he faced her cold, calculating features. How could you ever have convinced me that what we had, what you had me do, was love?

She was visibly taken aback by how he diverted the conversation, no longer speaking in a hushed tone and ensuring that you could hear from where you sat. "There--There is. A notice that those parts you ordered for your machine have come in. You'll need to sign for them at the post office."

"Excellent, I can bring Y/N along with me. Make a day of it."

Your face lit up at the mention of the notice. His supplier was perfectly within schedule. The end of your time together truly was drawing near; nearer than he ever wanted. "I would love to come with you to the city, husband," you beamed at him. "There are some letters I wish to send to my family as well. Keep them apprised of what I've been up to since getting married. All about Allerdale Hall and its rich history."

"That sounds like a perfect idea," Lucille told you both through gritted teeth. "I hope you two have a lovely time, then. Do try to get home before the blizzard strikes." Before Thomas made his way back to you, Lucille grabbed his arm in a talon-like grip. "The moment any form of correspondence comes for her, you are to tell me right away, dear brother. My patience can only last for so long."

"Ah, Miss Y/L/N, aren't you quite the sight to behold. How long has it been since you've aided us in a case with your expansive knowledge?" Detective Jeffries, a colleague of yours from Scotland Yard, was there to pick up his own mail from the post office and bumped into you and Thomas right as you arrived.

"Too long, Jeffries. Hopefully not so long that you'd all forgotten that the reason for my prolonged absence has been my acclimation to married life. I actually go by Lady Sharpe now," you politely corrected him, giving his hand a firm shake before gesturing toward your husband. There was a noticeable pinch at your heart calling yourself that. Lady Sharpe. You wouldn't be for long if things worked out according to plan. "I'd like to introduce you to my husband, Sir Thomas Sharpe. Lord of Allerdale Hall."

There was a fleeting moment of pure glee on Thomas' face at your introduction before he settled into a more cordial expression, stepping forward to shake the detective's hand. "Good to meet you, Detective," he greeted, placing his other hand on the small of your back before stepping back to your side. "I shall go see to my deliveries now, darling." Before he walked away and let you catch up with your colleague, he pressed a kiss to your cheek, giving you a soft smile before walking further into the post office for his parcel.

"And here I once recalled a feisty consultant insisting that she'd never fall in love or become the marrying type," Jeffries teased, wagging a finger at you as if to tell you 'I told you so'. "Matrimony becomes you, though, my friend. Both you and your husband are positively radiant with your adoration for one another. It doesn't take a detective to notice that."

His remark sat heavily in your heart, every part of you struggling not to give it away that the words struck a nerve. This marriage was a sham, and it would all be over soon. Thomas was just doing a remarkable job at pretending, and you…you didn't have to. Out here in public, feeding into the image of a newlywed couple happily in love, this was the only time you could let your love for him show. To communicate the sentiment that you would never dare to with words.

"Right well uhm…" You cleared your throat, shaking your head as if to shoo the conversation away. "What you said about aiding you all with a case…that's actually what I came here for. You remember those cases on the board that we could never make any headway on? Enola Sciotti? Edith Cushing? Pamela Upton? All missing persons cases?"

"Don't tell me you were spending your honeymoon investigating these cases, Y/N, that's simply depressing--"

"I didn't actively seek out the information, I stumbled into it," you cut him off, clutching the envelope of documents in your hand with a death grip. "Married into it, really."

Sheer horror colored your friend's features, throwing a look at the baronet currently making small talk with the workers inside as he signed for his parcels. "He--"

"No, Jeffries, not him. His sister. Lucille Sharpe. Right piece of work, that one. Sad to say they're no longer 'missing persons' cases." You placed the envelope into his hands, holding his gaze and hoping that he could see the desperation in your eyes. "These are copies of death certificates, marriage certificates, and money transfers. It paints a morbid timeline that will tell you what happened, what's been happening, behind the doors of Allerdale Hall. I've also made a transcript from recordings I found from a phonograph. One of his former wives caught a confession from Lucille Sharpe. There's a map of the manor in there as well, showing you where you'll find all the original documents and the recording cylinders."

"Y/N, if this is all true, you're not safe in that manor." His tone was laced with more than understandable concern. "Neither of you are."

"That's why I need you to get those documents to Scotland Yard as soon as you can and come to Allerdale Hall to arrest Lucille," you told him, your own fears starting to creep into your words as they stumbled out of your mouth. "She's already getting stir-crazy waiting for an inheritance to come to me that doesn't even exist. We've only barely managed to convince her that there's a windfall coming my way, but it won't be long until she grows impatient enough to kill me anyway and start fresh. Jeffries, we can't let her harm another woman for the sake of satiating her bottomless pit of hunger for money and status."

Now the detective clutched the documents tightly in his grasp, giving you a nod before flagging down a carriage. "We should have a squad there tomorrow. Until then you two stay safe. Perhaps try and spend the night elsewhere, just to make sure." He reached out to you, both of you grasping the other's forearm in a show of trust and respect. "Thank you, Y/L/N--I mean, Sharpe. You're about to bring closure to a whole lot of distraught families with this."

You only nodded, fear for your own safety creating a lump in your throat you found near impossible to swallow. "Let's focus on putting Lucille behind bars before we focus on what comes after. Thank you, Jeffries." You closed the door to the carriage and tapped on the wooden panel twice. "To Scotland Yard!" you called out to the coachman, who tipped his hat to you before the carriage began to move.

As you made your way back into the post office, you tried to force a wide smile onto your face, stomping down any fears you had for what awaited you once you made your way back to Allerdale Hall. And any anticipation you had for the heartache that would accompany your inevitable divorce.

Once you were within arm's reach, Thomas reached for your hand, pulling you towards him and wrapping his free arm around your waist before softly kissing your lips. "There you are, sweetheart." He quickly noticed the absence of the envelope from your hands. "It's done?"

You gave him a tight-lipped smile. "It's done," you confirmed. "We really did it."

The entire time that Thomas inspected the coil springs and other machine parts that were delivered for him, he kept his arm around your waist, his hand over yours and lacing your fingers together. His face was a mix of emotions, the plainest to see being relief, no doubt from the realization steadily creeping in that in a few short days he truly would be free from all of this.

There was a disquiet in his eyes, too. One that he tried so hard to mask, but you'd gotten to know him well enough ever since your courtship that no smile, no matter how bright or breathtaking, could ever mask it from you. And you knew exactly where his concern lied. It wouldn't take long for Scotland Yard to conclude that even though he had not been the one administering the potion, or the one holding the cleaver, he still bore a great amount of responsibility for the deaths of all his former wives.

Thomas would be seen as an accomplice to his sister's crimes; perhaps a case could even be argued for third-degree murder because of his administering of the cyanide. Sure the documents would reveal Lucille to be the mastermind, but they would also reveal that in some of those cases that had gone cold, Thomas was partly the executioner.

You flinched in his hold when the sound of the post office's main doors slamming shut hit your ears, all of you inside turning your heads toward the man holding the handles, a frantic look in his eyes. "The storm's gotten too strong," he huffed out, slumping to the ground. "No carriages in or out of the area, if the lot of us value our safety."

Your husband let out a sigh of relief, holding you closer against him before pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "Perhaps when we arrive at the manor tomorrow we need not even face her," he whispered into your hair.

"Yes, and while that is a marvelous turn of events, husband, we are faced with one…tiny problem." He tilted his head at you slightly, prompting you to continue. "We're still stuck here, and the nearest inn to rent a room is a good walk away. In this storm we'd likely freeze before we even reached the front door."

"Ah, yes…that," he murmured, brows knitted together as he tried to look around the post office for a possible place to pass the time.

"Erm…we might have something that could house yous," one of the workers spoke up, jerking his head towards the back of the office, signaling for you to follow him. "We 'ave a little suite here set up for whenever the owner comes by and wants to spend a few days in the city. Sure he won't mind if you use it for tonight."

He opened the doors to reveal a quaint bedroom that felt a far cry from the echoes of faded opulence that your room in Allerdale Hall held, and yet still emanated the feel of a warm embrace that home was supposed to feel like. When you looked upon Thomas, you could see from his expression that he likely held a similar sentiment.

"This will do more than fine," he stated, holding out his hand to the worker to shake. "Thank you."

"So now that your grievous time with Lucille is finally coming to a close, what are your plans for…well, the rest of your life? Your freedom?" you asked Thomas through the divider in the room, trying to keep your tone casual as you changed into your underdress, preparing for sleep.

He answered you with a sharp huff. "In truth, darling, I haven't even begun to think about it yet. I feel as if I am not completely in the clear yet. Best to focus my attention on that first before thinking about what I wish for my freedom to look like."

You took out the final pin in your hair, setting it down on the little table by the window, next to your blades, before stepping out from behind the divider, your husband immediately catching sight of the furrowed brows and the grimace on your face. "I'm sure Scotland Yard will have a degree of leniency, considering that Lucille's arrest will lead to the closing of multiple cold cases on their board."

"That was entirely your work, Y/N. Your work in making the arrest possible is all that they will see--"

"And I wouldn't have been able to accomplish any of it if I didn't have help," you cut him off, making your way over to him and placing your hands on his shoulders, giving him a slight shake. "Not just from the spirits in that house, but from you. If I didn't have you in my corner, I would've been caught that first night. I know that I owe you a great debt for what you--"

The rest of your words died in a muffled squeak as he pulled you to him, the jerking motion causing you to straddle him on the bed as he captured your lips in a sudden kiss. Your eyes fluttered closed at the feel of his lips moving against yours, his hands roaming your body freely until they buried themselves in your hair.

He groaned against you, the sound melting into the sweetest sounding whimper when you crossed your hands behind his neck, pulling him closer. This would be the last night that you could call him your husband; perhaps you could allow yourself a sliver of indulgence. When he broke the kiss, he wrapped his arm securely around your waist before flipping you onto the bed, your back hitting the mattress with a soft thud.

"My beautiful, brilliant wife," he rasped, the gravelly tone of his voice sending thrills up your spine. He proceeded to kiss along your neck, softly sucking at the base of your throat while he undid the tie at the top of your underdress. A mix between a gasp and a moan escaped you when he hooked your leg around his waist, pressing your hips together.

"Thomas what are you doing?" you asked him dumbly, breathlessly. "We don't need to do this tonight. Or ever again--"

"I want to," he mumbled, pressing a kiss above your heart. "I wish to lay with you, Y/N Sharpe." He kissed his way back up to your lips, looking at you with those pleading pup-like eyes that made him near impossible to resist. That whittled your resolve down to nearly nothing. "Please…"

You were finding it increasingly difficult to deny him, especially with how he was pressed against you, and you could feel his erection even through the layers of his trousers and what sheer clothing you had on yourself. And considering how you'd come to feel about him in the weeks past, how alarmingly quickly you recovered from the shock of his true predicament and the actual circumstances of your marriage, and you still found yourself falling so recklessly in love with him, most parts of you wanted nothing more than to say yes to him.

But then there was the borderline unwelcome party in your internal argument. The logical voice in your head that rationalized his actions as an overwhelming gratitude mistaken for desire. That you had done so much to get him out of the diabolical inescapable captivity that Lucille manipulated him into, and he couldn't articulate his gratitude to the point that in his mind, he saw it as an urge to lay with you.

"Thomas…" you said his name slowly, trying so hard to keep your head level and work against your more primal urge to just shout your assent. Taking deep breaths wasn't any help; it just pressed your bodies closer together, the slightest shift in his hips threatening to drive you mad. "Think about this for a moment…Wouldn't you rather wait until you could lay with someone that you love?"

There was a split second where a pained look crossed his face, before he leaned back down to softly capture your lips, moaning into the kiss when you threaded your fingers through his curls. "I wish to at least do something for you." He kissed you again before presenting you with another all too tempting offer. "If we cannot lay together, then at least let me pleasure you."

He kissed a trail along your jaw, his breath warming your skin before he traced the shell of your ear with his tongue. His next words had you letting out a whimper of his name, your desire for him that had been simmering for weeks now starting to boil over.

"I've been reading through the books in the manor's library, and all I wish to do is show you what I've learned. To explore these avenues of pleasuring with you. My wife. Please. Let me at least do that."

Another whimper escaped you, the only sound you could manage to make as you finally relented and nodded your head. There was a glimmer of excitement in his eyes as he scanned your face, eyes never leaving yours as his hand made its way under your dress and up between your legs. Your mouth fell open in a silent moan once his fingers made contact with your slick arousal, the corner of his mouth pulling up into a half-smile.

He breathed your name, carefully studying every detail of your face as he traced up along the length of your slit, his mouth breaking out into a devilish grin when you arched your back off the bed, screaming for him when he touched the hardened bundle of nerves above your entrance. "Exquisite," he rasped, repeating the motion and causing you to let out a sharp moan. You could only manage a whimper when he started to kiss along your collarbone while those sinful fingers kept on stroking you, dipping into your warmth before making their way back to your clit.

Before long you felt a tension at your lower stomach, begging to be released. Whenever you'd reached this point in your solitude, back in the city, from your own touch, you would close your legs. The sensation was too great and you would stop yourself. Catch your breath. Having your husband situated between your legs made it impossible to close them now, his fingers still diligently stroking you. "Thomas p-please," you squeaked, struggling to breathe. "'S too m-much for me."

"Not enough," he muttered against your skin, stroking at you faster as he kissed at your collarbone. "Let go, darling. I've got you." He pressed an open mouthed kiss to your neck, flicking his tongue against the spot and letting out a whimper that sent you over the edge, your walls fluttering and clenching around nothing as he continued to stroke at your clit.

Thomas proceeded to kiss down your chest while you tried to catch your breath, pulling back his fingers from you to firmly hold on to your hips, pinning you to the bed as his lips descended further down. You uttered his name in a breathless question, your heart beating even faster when his hands moved to hike your underdress up your legs and place your thighs on his shoulders.

"I'm not done yet," he said with a whimper, kissing his way up your inner thigh and looking up to meet your eyes, his pupils blown out so wide his eyes were near black. Shining with a sincerity that stole what air remained from your lungs. "I wish to taste you."

"Thomas what are you--Oh!" You arched your back off the bed once more, letting out an obscene moan as he licked up your entrance and closed his mouth around the oversensitized nub above it. The sight of his onyx curls subtly moving with every bob of his head, his hands grasping your thighs to keep you in place, immediately burned itself into your memory.

You would remember every devastatingly pleasurable moment of tonight for as long as you'd live. Remember him.

It wasn't long before he brought you to the brink of orgasm again, mercilessly flicking his tongue against you until you came undone, your husband making you ride his tongue while you came down from your high. Soft groans slipped from his mouth while he licked away at your release, kissing along your inner thighs again when he brought the fabric of your underdress over your legs again.

There were no words left in your mind except one somber truth. "You're going to make a fortunate woman very happy in the future, Mister Sharpe."

Thomas couldn't sleep that night, holding your sleeping form in his arms as he absently stroked at your hair. His life felt like a stick of dynamite that could set off and crumble around him at any moment now; while he allowed himself to feel a touch of relief that soon he would finally be free from Lucille and her wretched ways, that freedom came at a heart-wrenching price.

You.

Your words before you went slack in his hold haunted him, ringing constantly in his mind now like an eerie church choir. You're going to make a fortunate woman very happy in the future, Mister Sharpe.

His day ended the same way it began, watching your peaceful features as your head rested on his chest. With him speaking words he hoped would somehow reach you in your dreams. "I want to make you happy, Y/N." He didn't bother fighting back the tears that welled in his eyes as the thought slammed into him that this may very well be the last night he had with you.

And then you would disappear from his life. You'll be free from me, too.

"I don't want to be free of you," he whispered through the suppressed sobs. "I wish to be free with you. I love you, Y/N Sharpe." He pressed his lips to your forehead, a tear rolling down his cheek as he did so. "Please don't leave me."

A/N: In today's episode of "YN is stronger than all of us" 🥴 I know that this is super slow going but I promise there are plans to guide me through writing the rest of the series and I'll get to finishing it 🫡

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