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macabr3-barbi3 · 1 month

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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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l4long-winded · 3 months

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o.s. those sweet, sweet, effectual praises

summary: in which you talk an inexperienced carmen through it (carmen berzatto x afab!reader)

reflection: i meant this as a blurb, so it turned into a really short one shot. forgive me, i overdo things and get lost in the details of very small, small interactions. i've been thinking of finally making some taglists as well, so if anyone is interested, let me know. and, of course, enjoy! feedback is always appreciated!

warnings: cursing, praise kink, pussydrunk!carmy, dirty talk, absolute filth, subby!carmy?, inexperienced!carmy (you can imagine him as a virgin in this if you'd like), sensory words, slight overstimulation, finger sucking, reference to oral (please let me know if there are other tags i need to add)

word count: 1,137

“Christ, stop… s-stop that,” Carmen hisses, his knuckles pigmented ivory as his fingers compress the fitted sheet’s extra fabric tighter into his grip. His other hand is occupied with holding his throbbing girth and, of course, he feels lightheaded as he pulses and sustains the heartbeat against his calloused digits. But the real issue isn’t how hard he is (he surmises he can carve a statue with himself at this point), the issue is the string of slick he focuses on connecting the tip of his cock to your glistening outer lips. It’s that damn wetness his mouth waters for, tongue envying his dick for a flash of a moment, poking out to lick his suddenly dry lips as he imagines it spread over his chin and jaw.

“I’ll hold still,” you relent, like a fucking saint, petting the muscles in his shoulders as your thighs relax into the mattress below.

Carmen leans down to kiss you in that moment, first your cheeks, your nose, then forehead, amply covering every centimeter of surface area to display his appreciation for your patience, because it’s really not your fault, it’s his lack of will power. Mere seconds ago, you chanced a shift of your hips upwards and struck gold on your first try, your dripping slit sliding the head of him right between your folds. It happened so abruptly and he was ill prepared for the surge of pleasure he’d undergo, retracting to just breathe and calm his excitement. He lingers when he finally kisses your mouth, relishing in the noise of approval you hum against him, a sign that he hasn’t completely fucked this up because of his inexperience and clumsy, innate reactions to this entire endeavor.

“Let me,” you mumble against his mouth, your hands tracing from his shoulders, to the back of his neck, and ultimately into his hair, fingers slipping his unruly curls right into the crevices. Your nails and fingertips lightly massage his scalp and fuck, he’ll let you do whatever the hell you want if you keep doing just that, nodding mindlessly despite that small voice inside advising him how he should be the one in control.

“You’ll do it next time,” you promise him, as if sensing his self-doubt, and that’s enough for him to ignore it, his eyelids heavy as you cease kissing him to reach down and grasp him. Your hand is smaller than his is, but your touch has him inhale shakily, slowly removing his own hand so that it can join the other on the mattress, right at the opposite side of your head where he cages you in. You give him a sweet smile, one he wants to kiss and bite at, but his arms flex as he watches your features and remains where he is, glancing down to see how you guide him.

“Breathe for me, Carmy,” you say, which is easier said than done, but he listens to you, inhaling through his nose and exhaling through his mouth. It’s easier, he finds, feeling you brush his tip back and forth along your warmth, willing his eyes to stay open to view, his jaw hanging open at the sensation. He particularly enjoys the image of your slick coating your fingers in the process.

“You’re so hard,” you comment, your teeth biting on your lower lip. He forgets you’re also hanging on in anticipation just as he is. He’s glad he’s not the only one losing his mind here, managing a small grin at the lilt your voice adopts.

“Ready?” You ask next and he’s nodding his head again, perhaps a little too eagerly, but he’s past the point of looking desperate and depraved, he really is losing the amount of fucks he has left about how you could negatively perceive him. It’s a waste, anyhow, since you think the world of him.

With his willingness, you offer him a peck on the mouth before you’re fluttering your lashes at him in warning of what’s about to happen. He gulps, monitoring his breathing as you had told him to, and he stares at your face the entire time you align him and gently pull him forward, his hips shifting in accommodation naturally until the swollen head of him breaches your entrance. And shit, breathing is a lot harder to do once he’s halfway inside of you, faltering because he gasped while he was inhaling and almost choked on air.

“shitshitshitshitshit,” he mutters, groaning from deep in his chest when he accidentally makes the mistake of falling to his forearms, sinking himself deeper as a result, drawing collective cries from the both of you. He really didn’t mean to, noticing the tremble of your thighs from how physically close you both are now, your walls clenching him somehow even tighter, astonishing him because he’s never felt anything this enveloping, nothing this welcoming and yet so resisting, twitching and clamping away at him in a vise his hips chase with an additional, involuntary push forward. As he pants out and attempts to find the oxygen he’s lost, he can see the pleasure written on your features, your mouth falling open as he prods at the hilt, your whine infiltrating his eardrums as you clutch onto his shoulders at the stretch.

“Yes, that’s perfect, Carmy,” you say, cupping his cheeks into your hands as you kiss him. His hips stutter, you can’t say things like that to him, not when he’s buried this deep and aching.

“I can’t, I can’t,” he shudders, but you’re cooing at him, calming him down, placing kiss after kiss on his lips even though he believes he’s going to pop any second. His brain tells him to just fill you up and let go, but as always, you’re able to lure him out of that space and force him into the present moment.

“You feel incredible,” you tell him in between kisses, “doing so wonderful,” he moans as he softly thrusts, “fucking me just right.” It’s a miracle he doesn’t blow his load right then and there, beginning to return every one of your kisses slowly but surely. He shifts again and that impending, urgent need rears once more, especially from how you whine right into his mouth, but it fades away as he stills and focuses on your hands on his cheeks. The digits of your right hand feel rather slippery on his stubble and that’s when he remembers what had pooled out of your cunt onto them in the midst of sliding him in on home.

He turns his head, capturing your index finger into his mouth, sucking at the wetness still there while he simultaneously drives his hips into you. It’s instinctual from there, picking up his pace as he moans around your finger, and at your encouraging “yesyesyesyes, fuck, Carmy, yes!”

#l4l.writes #those sweet sweet effectual praises #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto #the bear hulu #the bear #jeremy allen white #carmen berzatto imagine

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peterparkersnose · 1 year

Text

Sucks to Suck

pairing: Din Djarin x senator!reader

word count: 2.7k

warnings: near death experience, sexual references, sexual thots, not smut but sensual i guess?, alcohol consumption and drunk reader, respect of consent, SEXUAL TENSION and description of weaponds and snakes, tiny bit of body dysmorphia, swearing, takes place in between S2 of the Mandalorian and The Book of Boba Fett

The Mandalorian Airs Tomorrow!

a/n you guys see my padme reference there? huh? enjoy the tension the not angst but angst i loved writing this (it is 1am help i started writing this at 10pm) the sighing gif is literally din giving into his intrusive thoughts this whole story it was too perfect not to use (also i make up star wars planets lmao wut) my favorite mandalorian fic of mine besides secret

summary Din is Senator Y/N’s bodyguard and helps her after an attack

masterlist

join the tag list

read time: 10 mins 1 seconds

The Mandalorian your father hired to protect you while you were visiting planet Elaeia was less than ideal.

The same one who also came back to accompany you to a senate meet where there was a threat made against your life.

And the same one that followed you around your whole beach vacation.

Somehow he turned in to an on call babysitter for you. Every time you saw him waiting outside your ship you began to loathe the trip. And soon, he began to show up around your house. Didn’t your father trust you? You were way past the age for need of a babysitter. You were a young adult, you could be the babysitter. And you were a damn senator. But as always, you sucked it up and tried to make the best of the situation.

“Don’t you ever get tired of the suit?” you asked, trudging up the stairs of your luxury apartment you rented for the week.

“Never.” Din lied. He couldn’t count the countless times he had wanted to rip it off and spent a night with you. Chills sent down his spine as he tried to think of something different to ease himself into the long week ahead.

But you were work. Your powerful father was paying him more than any bounty could. He needed the credits more than he needed you, right?

“What do you wear under there anyways?”

He hesitated to answer. “Clothes.”

“Really?” you asked sarcastically.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” he muttered, almost barely enough for you to hear.

“Where are you going to crash tonight?” you asked him, placing your bag on the ottoman in front of your bed. “Not tired,” he lied again. The way he wanted to hold you in that comfortable bed was-

He had to stop his thoughts there.

“What time is it?” you asked him. “Around 7.”

“Shit! I’m going to be late.” you panicked. “I’m sorry, I thought we had some time to rest.” you apologized, knowing Din was exhausted from the trip.

The dress that was already hung in the closet for you was what you were going to wear to the banquet tonight. Without even caring, you opened your bag and pulled out the bra you were going to wear for the night. Without hesitation, Din stepped out of the room. Not today.

The dress was a deep blue and was form fitted. It jutted out at the bottom, complimenting your shape. It had long sleeves and a low neckline where your necklace was going to rest that night. You tied your hair up into a large bun with a braid around the base.

“Your train is here…” Din said, stepping in the room carefully. “Thank you. Wait- Mando?”

His heart skipped a beat when you said his nickname. You had known his name for a while, but he still enjoyed it when you called him Mando. Din was stunned at how you looked. I mean, you always looked good. But he could imagine standing next to you at the banquet in a suit, your arm draped over his and a ring on your finger.

The armor didn’t exist in that world.

“Yeah?” he asked. “Can you get this for me?” you asked, handing him the necklace you were going to wear that night. It was gold. Large and resembled tree roots. It was to sit along your chest and clip under your breasts along with behind your neck to stay put.

He handled the necklace carefully. His arms reached up and placed the necklace in front of you as his fingers trailed up the back to clasp the neck clasp.

“Dank farrik,” he sighed. His gloves were in the way of handling the tiny clasp. “Hold it for a second,” he told you. Din sighed as he made the decision. He slowly slipped off each glove and set them down on the bed.

You seemed to tense when his hands brushed your shoulders. You turned your head and saw his gloves sitting at the edge of your bed. The skin was cold and his hands were surprisingly soft.

Din hadn’t touched a woman with his bare hands well… ever. Sure he had brought in bounties who could identify as female. But nobody as elegant and beautiful as you. He would never forget the oddly intimate encounter.

“Thank you,” you said smoothly, adjusting the necklace around your ribcage. “You could call this more of a corset,” you huffed, smiling as you caught a glimpse of his skin as he slipped his gloves back on.

Standing in the mirror, you struggled getting the bottom clasp closed. You turned your body, trying to see if you had gained a bit of weight since you last wore this piece.

“Din,” you called sweetly, almost with a bit of song in your voice. He turned around on his heel as you saw from the mirror and it made you smile. “Yes?” he asked in the same tone you called him.

The way you called for him made him think about one of the rare memories he had of his parents. How one called out to the other. It was a brief moment but gave him deja vu when he heard you speak his name. Speak his name like a wife would call to her husband.

“It won’t-”

The sigh from his modulator was hard to miss.

“Can you help?” you asked, eyes looking up into his viser.

“I’ll hold them, don’t worry.” you smiled, your hands branching down lifting up your breasts.

Under the mask his eyes widened at the comment.

Din got down on his knees to try to get a better angle of the clasp. No other reason. He tried his best to focus on the clip but he couldn’t keep his eyes off the way you held yourself. Thank the gods for the viser, or he would have died of embarrassment.

“How’s it going?” you asked him. You could feel him struggling again with the gloves.

“What if I…”

You attempted to hold your breasts with one arm and had the other hand come down to help him, but the plan failed. Your boobs folded over on his hands without fail.

His hands quickly retreated from your ribcage. You noticed the stress in his demeanor, his breathing quickened.

You thought he was upset with you. Possibly disrespecting his creed, you felt horrible. Guilt knit tightly in your stomach as you knew you were going to think about this event the whole night. The embarrassment was enough for a lifetime.

Din couldn’t care less about his creed at the moment. He had never felt boobs before.

“Oh god! I am so sorry,” you said in horror.

“I can have someone at the banquet do it, let’s just forget-”

You were silenced by the sound of his gloves hitting the ground. Once again, his hands were at your service.

“Let’s get this done. We’re going to be late.” he said.

Grabbing the chain once again, he clasped it on the first try.

He escorted you to the train silently. He held one of your hands in his. The other hand held his pair of gloves.

Din hadn’t even notice you grabbed his hand. And to be honest, you didn’t really either. It was an instinct. Trains always freaked you out and he knew that. The gap between the ground and the train car, the speed they went at. Commercial trains were filled with unsuspecting people. Thankfully, the banquet event sent out personal trains for some of the local senators.

Finally you only noticed when he pulled away to put his gloves back on as you pulled closer to the event.

Had he really been holding your hand the whole time?

Meanwhile back at the apartment you had rented, you expected it to be empty. There was no need for a guard, you had only just arrived. Your location to be revealed to possible rebels wasn’t likely, you were stationed there for only a short time. A guard would follow you home along with Din.

You knew Din was capable of protecting you, he had every time. Something about a man in armor killing in your name just did something to you. But the uncertainty of almost everything about him made you push that idea to the back of your mind. And anyways, you were bound to marry for a political reason some day. It was coming eventually you assumed. Dates were never nearly as exciting as an adventure with Din.

The guard honestly was a joke at this point. It gave your advisors a piece of mind though, so you allowed it.

The seemingly empty apartment was carefully broken into. The sliding glass door from the balcony was opened, no fingerprints left and promptly shut as the rebel left.

Poisonous snakes were left slithering in your sheets.

It was something you would later recognize as a similar thing had happened to a senator many years ago. Poisonous bugs left to crawl in her bed.

Din walked you off the train platform and back to your apartment as quickly as he could. You, on the other hand, we’re being difficult.

“Don’t you ever take vacations?” you asked him, barely able to stand upright. He ignored your strange drunken question and kept holding on to you. “You didn’t answer meee!” you yelled, breaking free from his grasp and raising your hands to the air. The mist had accumulated from the oncoming storm.

“No. I don’t.” he sighed, grabbing your arm gently and guiding you back to the lobby with a hand placed on your lower back.

“Din,” you slurred, holding on to his armor in the elevator. Your fingers marched up his beskar chest plate as you asked him this.

“You ever had a girlfriend before?”

He blinked furiously under his helmet. What the fuck?

“Y/N, let’s get you to bed. Hm?”

“But Dinnn,”

“Come on,” he sighed, placing his hand on your back. The guard was stationed at the door. Din gave him a nod.

“I’m not sleepy!” you insisted, angered that you were being forced to end this wonderful night.

Din threw his gloves on the kitchen counter. He was getting sick of the things. After all these years in gloves, his hands never felt as uncomfortable and sweaty as they did that night.

“Here,” he sighed, steadying you by the shoulder and unclasping the clasp by your neck. The heavy necklace seemed to fall off yourself, only slightly catching at the waist.

“Thank you mister.” you said, letting it drop to the floor with a shake of your hips. Along with that you left your heels.

He saw you face dive into your bed and chuckled a bit as he was picking up after you. That necklace was probably worth more than the beskar he was wearing.

Din eyed up the couch, exhausted after watching you all night. He stood in the balcony of the event and watched you drink yourself almost to the point of embarrassment until he decided it was time for you to return home.

He had just began to settle in when he heard you scream.

It wasn’t like he had heard you scream before. He was used to all the rage screams when an article came out portraying you negatively. He was used to all the screams over the phone with your friends. He was used to the muffled screams he heard as he hid in his quarters when you would have dates over and prayed it would end.

But he would never forget this one.

He knocked over the vase on the coffee table, but didn’t really care.

The prolonged scream attracted the interest of the guard who busted in, spear ready.

Din had made it in the room first. He drew his blaster watched as you simultaneously chucked a snake in his direction. His blaster shot, killing the thing.

“Are you okay?” he asked, grabbing you immediately. You wrapped your arms around his neck and cried into his armor.

The guard ripped back the sheets and found three more slithering in the sheets. The sight of that made you shriek more.

Din’s hand ran across the back of your head. His fingers hadn’t felt hair like that in forever. His own locks didn’t match up to your softness.

The guard removed each snake and silently killed them.

“Cardillian Greybecks,” the guard sighed, now bagging the snake carcasses. “I’m going to bring these down to the base, are you two all right alone or should I call someone?”

“We’re fine.” Din said sternly, praying for the man to leave.

He calmed you enough to sit you back down on the edge of the bed. “Everything is okay. No more snakes, see?” he says, shaking out a blanket.

“Fuck,” you sighed, your hand running down the side of your leg. “You alright?” Din asked, shaking out the pillows just in case.

“I must have scratched my leg in the scuffle, it really fucking hurts.” you slurred, rubbing the side of your leg. Of course the alcohol was still there.

“Oh gods,” Din sighed, asking for your leg immediately. Laying back against the bed, you lifted your right leg in the air for him to inspect. If he wasn’t so worried he would have thought the pose was somewhat provocative.

“Shit,” he sighed. You were bitten.

“What?” you asked eagerly, pulling your leg back. He held on to it though, staring at the festering wound on your leg.

“It hurts. Please,” you begged, pulling your leg back. Din was scrambling on what to do.

“This…” he sighed, hating the only option available. There wasn’t enough time to get you to a proper medic.

“Hold still.”

He slowly lifted his helmet up to the bottom of his nose to reveal his mouth and chin.

“Din!” you yelled as his lips made contact with your skin. “What the-” you began, but immediately soothed as you felt the venom leaving your bite. A needy moan escaped from your lips.

Din spat out the first round of venom. It stung his lips. It wasn’t enough to kill him, it wasn’t in his bloodstream. It tasted bitter and artificial.

“Oh my god,” you whined as his lips continued to suck on the wound. “Din, holy fuck.” you moaned, squirming in his grasp.

Even though you just had been on the brink of death, this was one of the most sensual things you had ever experienced in your opinion. The thought of his lips teasing you drove you up the walls.

He spit out another round. “One more, I’m sorry.”

You gasped at his voice. No mask, no modulator. “Oh gods, don’t stop.” you begged. Your back arched as he took in the final round, finally tasting blood to indicate the venom was gone.

He spit it out on the ground and slipped his mask back on.

“What?” he asked out of breathe. He had convinced himself he didn’t just hear what he thought he did. His ears were muffled by the mask in its awkward position.

Sitting up in bed, you patted the mattress. He sat down.

“That was so hot,” you whispered near his ear.

He didn’t say anything to you. You had prayed he would rip off his mask and take you then and there. Din wanted the same thing too, he would feverishly re play this night over and over in his mind for years.

But you were wasted. And he had a creed.

Even though after each passing day without Grogu his allegiance to his creed drew weaker, he still had his limits.

Din knew you would regret those words in the morning. But the phrase Cara told him many moons ago rung in his brain.

“Drunk words are sober thoughts.”

“Talk to me when your sober.” he replied. He stood up and removed the base of the helmet once again. You embraced his body as he kissed you on the top of your head.

“Din,” you feverishly whispered. Without a second thought, you stood up. His body pushed against yours as you passionately kissed his lips. Your nose bumped the mask up more, but neither of you cared. His nose brushed against yours as you kept your eyes shut. The urge to look was strong, but you respected him too much to take a peek.

“One day,” he smiled, breaking the kiss. “Are you sure I can’t see more?” you asked. He shook his head as he pulled the mask down again. “One day,” he repeated, his voice now modulated again.

“Thank you for saving my life.” you said. “Any day,” he said sarcastically.

He placed the blankets securely over you.

The room was dim enough where he was sure if he was ever caught he would have an excuse. And you would lie for him, he was certain of it.

“Just one more thing-” you asked as his silhouette made its way through your door. He turned and looked at you.

“What color are your eyes?”

He had the widest smile on his face. The thought of you trying to form his face in your mind was almost comical for him.

“Brown. Good night, Cyare.”

“I knew they were brown, I knew it.” you whispered to yourself, convinced Din couldn’t hear.

He smiled as he retreated to the couch, unsure if sleep would visit him after his eventful night.

tag list: @dani5216 @uwiuwi @alohastyles-x @samanthacookieone @maddieinnit0 @alexxavicry @scoliobean @avengersfan25

@peeta-is-useless @kirsteng42 @salliebley @bubsonnobx @lexloon @untitledarea @nyotamalfoy

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starieq · 16 days

Text

“Lovin her seems tiring..” part 4

Taggies/ warnings; Pro!HeroKats, cheating, fingering, creampie, blowjob, ridding, cumming, squirting, swearing, mention of sex toys, dirty talk, titty fuck, drinking, drunk messaging, dry humping.

:a/n; hello! Wow! 40 followers! Tysm! I really appreciate it! For this part, it was pretty fun to write, but I was a little tired.. (totally didn’t stay up re-watching Hellva boss with my twin brother and his boyfriend..) Also ask me if you want to be tagged in all my parts! but anyways, enjoy part 4! Love ya ❤️

part 4/5!

As you and Bakugo walked in the hotel, it was wow. Just wow. There was a bar in the far right corner with sports playing on 4 TVS at once, big crystal chandelier hanging perfectly in the middle of the big room, the front decorations were a beautiful cream white and gold.

You two make your way to the front lady who’s typing up whatever they type about.

“Room key. Under Dynamight and y/l/n.” Bakugo says slamming his cards down onto the desk.

“P-please!” You pipe up, not trying to sound rude.

“Uh huh.. so, Katsuki Bakugo and..-“ she looks up from her computer with her jaw all the way to the floor.

“Y-y-y-you’re Dynamight! Oh my god! Please sign my tits!” She yells holding up a marker almost taking off her shirt. Everyone’s now looking at you three. How fucking embarrassing..

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” Bakugo almost exploded right there in front of everyone. You place a hand on his shoulder to calm him down.

“He means no t-thanks. Please don’t take o-off your shirt. J-just please give us the keys..” god, the fuck? Yes, everyone knows fucking Katsuki Bakugo is hot as hell, and this body is a fucking Greek goddess, but who does that in public while doing their job..?

She gives you the keys drooling. You can almost see her pupils turn into damn hearts.

“fuckin weirdo, trynna make me sign her fuckin tits. What the fuck?!” Bakugo grumbles. He snatched his key out your hand and crosses his arms walking away. You slowly walk behind him to the elevator.

“S-sorry that happened, Mr. Dyna-“

“Katsuki.”

“What?”

“Call me Katsuki when we’re outside of work. And it’s fine. I’ve been through worse.” He says pressing floor 5.

“O-oh, okay..” you whisper, putting your head down looking down at your Uggs.

“Hey,” You feel a rough hand against your cheeks squeezing them together.

“Don’t look down on me, idiot.” His face is so close on yours, you can feel his breath and your cheeks getting hot.

You open your mouth to say something, but then the elevator doors open. He lets go of your cheeks and walk out.

He shoves his hands in his sweatpants pockets and walks to room 196.

“Goodnight Mr- I mean Katsuki.. sorry. goodnight.” You give him your signature warm smile and he just grunts ‘night’ and walks into his room slamming it in your face.

There you are. Standing in the hallway In front of his door. You walk across the hall to get to room 194. Sometimes you wonder if he thinks about you daily as much as you do about him.

You scan your key and place your bags onto the floor and flop onto the hotel bed.

“Sigh, this stupid crush is bull. He has a fucking girlfriend and I’m over here wanting his kiss stupid lips!” You whine into the pillow.

You get into your pajamas and wash your face and teeth.

Until tomorrow, you’ll see him..

FAV TAGGIES!; @slayfics

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hopelesslyromanticshark · 2 months

Note

Hiii ! Congratulations on the 350 followers !! I love your blog so much you totally deserve it, I’m so happy every time you post a new writing !!

Thank you for tagging me it was so unexpected but I’m truly honoured 🫶🏻. Would you consider doing head cannons for jason x daughter of athena ? Im a cabin six girl and Jason is my fav. If you don’t have time or if you don’t want to write it I completely understand :)

By the way I love all your fics they are AMAZING.

⋆⭒˚.⋆ jason grace x daughter of athena! reader hcs

content: jason grace x daughter of athena! reader hcs warning: i think language???? author's note: YOU!!! MY NUMBER ONE FAN YOU!!! i love love seeing you spam my notifs, it makes me so happy!! so of course i tagged you as a fav, duh!! anyways YOURE AMAZING AND I HOPE YOU ENJOY!!!

NERD'S FALLING IN LOVE ALERT

you guys met through leo, strangely enough

jason had been hanging around bunker nine when a goddess walked in-

jk jk jk but that's fr what he thought

you handed off some blueprints to leo, explaining what each one was, getting excited as he bounced ideas off of you

"oh, right, this is jason. jason, y/n," leo introduced with a wave of his hand, walking away as he went to put the blueprints in a special place

"oh! lovely to meet you," you said, offering him your free hand

"y-yeah, same- same here," he stuttered through his sentence, unable to pull his eyes from you.

you breathed out a laugh, ducking your head and turning away from the blonde boy, chewing on your lip as you called your leave

jason stayed put, watching you go, unable to move, breathe, speak-

"dude, don't drool in here. that's gross and also a slipping hazard," leo mocked, though he was growing excited at the prospects of playing matchmaker with piper.

but he didn't need to, as you stomped up to the zeus cabin the next morning during breakfast

jason had been sitting there, lonely as could be, passively reading some history book chiron had lent to him while chewing away at an apple

"hey, jason, i was just- oh my gods, i love that book!" you cheered, your thoughts getting cut off as you noticed the book in his hand

jason jumped, his eyes instantly darting up to you in a panic, his heart working double time

"what chapter are you on?? it gets so good after five," you rambled, leaning towards the boy with an excited glimmer in your eyes that jason was rapidly falling in love with

"just finished five. it's gets better than that?" he questioned, attempting a joke and earning giggles from you.

his new favorite prize

all good love stories start with the bonding over a wwii book, duh!!

then, you guys started trading books

you gave him one about architecture that annabeth had gifted to you and he gave you one on aerodynamics leo had given to him as a joke

you guys traded books for a few weeks until you came up to him, meeting at the previously declared trading spot, though this time the book was clutched to your chest

"okay okay, so...i- i annotated this one. for, uh, for you," you muttered, holding the book out to him.

jason beamed a soft smile, taking it from your hands like it was the finest gold.

"that was very sweet, y/n," mused jason, which left both of you blushing

you quickly stole his book from him and marched away

jason was eager to read the book, shooing away everyone so he could lay in his cabin the whole day and read what you had to say about the book

naturally, the highlighter and tabs were color coded, a little legend in your handwriting at the start of the book

this was the most jason ever smiled while reading a damn book and it was because of you

he finished the damn thing in one day, refusing to stop until he was done

the very last annotation had jason jumping out of his bed and racing out of his cabin in search of you

there, on the last page, in light blue pen it read, "now, when are you going to catch on that i like you and ask me on a date, jason grace?"

it did it a lightening fast speed, finding you and the words to ask you on a date falling out of his lips

you just smirked up at him, nodding your head in agreement

athena always has a plan, right?

typically, most dates consist of you and jason hanging out in his cabin and reading

sometimes you sit in jason's lap, or you guys are just next to each other, or you guys are other sides of the cabin

it doesn't really matter as long as youre together

when you guys take snack breaks, you explain everything that's happened in your books since the last snack break

jason made you a bookmark, putting his own sketches on there of an owl and an eagle

you called him cheesy but also haven't been seen without it since soooo

you like to steal jason's glasses away, putting them on your face as he tries to take them back

"now im gonna finish my book first! ha!" you cheer, snatching his glasses and taking rapid steps to the other side of the cabin

"get back here!! this is ableist!!" he calls after you, trying his best to find you with his blurry vision

you gently put them back on his face after he catches you in his arms, planting a soft kiss to his lips

"hmmm. you look better as a blurry blob," he smirks, the look on his face giving away that he doesn't mean a word of it

"looks like i'll just have to steal them away again," you tease hands inching closer to the glasses again only for jason to swat you hands away

you guys are a pair of nerds together, but the cutest pair of nerds to like every nerd fr fr

#postcards from covey ౨ৎ #all my love ౨ৎ #pjo #heroes of olympus x reader #hoo #jason grace #jason grace x reader

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ichorai · 8 months

Text

reset me ; wade wilson.

track twelve of BROKEN MACHINE.

pairing ; wade wilson (deadpool) x mutant!reader (gender-neutral)

synopsis ; charles sends you to recruit deadpool into the x-men. expectedly, the bastard tries to weasel away from you—and when that doesn’t work, he resorts to his most lethal method: flirtation. that, and taping a kick me sign on your back.

words ; 1.3k

themes ; comedy, mild fluff and action, mutant au

warnings / includes ; mild injury/violence, sexual jokes and foul language, a lil bit of banter/terrible flirting, reader has the mutant ability to harness energy into ropes, wade steals blind al's crocs, reader's implied previous romantic relationship with wolverine, mentions of the rest of the x-men :)

Wade’s place smelled like greasy pizza, put-out cigarettes, and old socks. The door wasn’t locked—in fact, it was slightly ajar, and you could clearly hear Wade and Al bickering about missing Crocs.

“I swear I put them right here!” she vehemently exclaimed, gesturing to a potted plant.

Wade rolled his eyes. “Right—because you always hang your Crocs on our leafy greens.”

Al shuffled somewhere into the back of the house, complaining loudly to herself.

You took that as your cue to silently step in, standing just behind Wade, noting with mild amusement that he was wearing a pair of white Crocs. The very ones Al was searching for, you presumed.

In the blink of an eye, Wade whirled about on the heel of his squeaky, rubbery footwear and brandished a knife. Its strangely warm blade slotted against your throat just as you defensively raised your hands.

“Watch it, Wade,” you warned, though you were not at all worried. His knife lowered and flipped back into the depths of his fluffy bathrobe when he realized who you were.

“Oh. It’s you,” he said. The discolored flesh of his face twitched with a grin. “Did Mr. Metal Dick send you? The bullwhip substitute to watch over the class?” He snickered at his own joke, recalling your mutant ability to harness energy into the form of ropes.

“Piotr is off on vacation with Kitty,” you replied, propping your hands up on your hips.

Wade tipped his head back and guffawed. “Do you think he stays that way under the sheets?”

With a grimace, you pinched the space between your brows and sighed loudly. “Jesus, Wade—I don’t fucking know. Why don’t you ask him next time you see him?”

“Good idea.” He shuffled off to shuck open a box of day-old pizza on the table. “You want?”

“No thanks.”

“You sure? It’s pepperoni. You know how expensive it is to get pepperoni nowadays, in this economy? I’m offering you gold flakes on bread, here.”

“Mhm, I’ll pass.” After a considerable silence, only filled with Wade’s loud munching, you tested the waters by saying, “Charles actually sent me.”

Wade gestured at a chair and nudged for you to take a seat. “McAvoy or Stewart?”

“What? Charles Xavier, who’s McAvoy and Stewart?” You sank down onto the creaky wooden chair, frowning at the baby powder rimming the backboard. It was probably Al’s. Wouldn’t be surprised if it was Wade, though.

Ignoring your question, Wade tilted his head and asked, “How’s Yukio? And her emo-face Megasonic Nuclear Bomb-Head girlfriend?”

You smiled slightly, remembering how they were pestering Logan, who’d been working on fixing a motorcycle back at the mansion when you left.

“They’re fine. Wolvie, too.”

“No way!” exclaimed Wade. “Logie’s there, too? Jesus—whole damn gang’s there.”

“Except you,” you pointedly said.

Wade paused mid-chew. “Oh. Oh-ho-ho, I know what you’re doing here. Charles wants me to join his rag-tag team of circus freaks.”

“Wade—”

“The answer is no.”

“Come on—”

“And he wants me to be around all those kids? In a school? Has he met me?”

“Believe me, I don’t know what he’s thinking, either,” you told him, scoffing. “You’re the last person I’d expect to be on the team but… I trust Charles. If he wants you in, there must be a reason why.”

Holding his hands out, Wade shook his head. “Listen, I’m flattered, really, but Deadpool works solo. Except for that one time I formed the X-Force. But that was a team of people I hand-picked! The X-Men just doesn’t sound up my alley, y’know?”

You blew out a breath and fixed him with a serious expression. “Some day you’re gonna have to pull your head out of your ass and realize that there are people out there who are willing to be your friends. Your family. Don’t throw it away, Wade.”

A muscle in his jaw ticked as he studied you.

“You’re really bad with rejection, aren’t you?” he finally asked, quirking up a brow—or, at least where his eyebrow used to be—and crossed his arms. The Crocs he’d stolen from Al squeaked as he stood up and gestured to the door. “I’m surprised you didn’t go running back to Charles the moment I said no. I’m beginning to think you have a crush on me, or something. Not that I blame you. My face may be fucked but my dick works better than ever. Just ask Al. She’s blind as a bat, but she hears everything in this damn house.”

Immediately, you grimaced. “Ugh. Don’t be crass.”

“What? I thought you were into broken men. Like to pick up their pieces, don’cha? You and Wolvie had that fling once, no? He told me all about it.”

In truth, Logan had told him little to nothing about his brief relationship with you, but Wade had ruthlessly pestered him anyway.

You stiffened at his words, glowering. “You’re exasperating.”

“And you’re looking awfully lovely today. That frown really accentuates your eyes. Makes you look about a decade older.” Wade leaned his weight onto the table, leering over you, patting your back twice. “I find it very attractive.”

With a flick of your hand, a crimson coil of your harnessed energy shot out and thwacked him in his side, and he hissed out a string of curses, backing away from you. You’d burned right through his fluffy white robe, to his simultaneous dismay and astonishment.

“Jesus!” Wade glanced incredulously from you to the slight, shallow gash that formed by his ribs, already starting to heal itself. “That’s actually—that was so fucking cool. Do it again!”

Clearing your throat, you pushed yourself away and stood up. “Final time I’m asking. Yes or no?”

Wade pretended to give it a long, hard think. “Mmh…” He wrinkled his nose. “No.”

“Fine,” you said, rolling your eyes up to the ceiling. “When Piotr comes back from vacation, he’s going to find you and he’s not gonna go as easy on you as I have.”

“Ooh, ouch. Hope he brings some lube with him.” Wade grinned wolfishly.

Completely fed up with him, you ripped out a wad of paper and a pen from your jacket’s pocket, scribbling down your phone number. You folded it in half before shoving it against his chest.

“I’m not giving up on you. I’m a competitive person, Wade. If Piotr was the one to convince you to join, I just wouldn’t be able to bear it.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re literally obsessed with me, I get it,” he remarked, sparing you a lopsided beam. He made a show of pocketing your number on the side of his robe that wasn’t burnt. “You little minx, you.”

With a final flick of your hand, you lashed out another coil around his foot, and made your way to the door just as he fell back onto the couch with a muffled oomf!

Just as you left, you heard Wade cackling to himself through the door you left partially ajar, just as it was when you came in. You chalked it up to him finding it funny that you managed to trip him over with your powers, and strode away from the shoddy house with your lips twitching upwards.

Wade, however, was laughing because he’d successfully pulled off taping a kick me sign onto your back without you noticing. A low and childish blow, but would certainly make for some fun banter whenever he saw you again—which, he suspected, would be pretty soon.

Plus, Wade thought you were pretty cute when you were riled up.

#wade wilson x reader #deadpool x reader #deadpool fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #deadpool fanfic #deadpool imagines #deadpool drabbles #wade wilson imagines #wade wilson drabbles #wade wilson scenarios #deadpool scenarios #wade wilson fanfiction #marvel drabbles #wade wilson fluff #deadpool fluff #wade wilson x you #deadpool x you

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just-my-latest-hyperfixation · 5 months

Text

Eddie Munson's royal fuck-up

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 11

Prompt: Royalty AU

Rated: G

CW: none

Tags: Rockstar Eddie Munson; Royal Steve Harrington; Meet cute; Flirting; Secret Identity; Sort of angsty/open ending

"So, tommorow…" Chrissy says from behind the folder they've been provided. It looks so posh with its dark green binding, the royal sigil embossed on it in gold print. Eddie hates it. It probably thinks it's so much better than the other folders. "When you're introduced to Prince Steven, you're to address him as Your Royal Highness. After that, you call him Sir."

"What, really? Dude, at least buy me dinner before we start with the kinky shit."

Chrissy shoves his feet off the desk, which almost makes him topple off his chair.

"Can you take this seriously? A royal visit is an important matter. We can certainly use the publicity-"

Eddie's hand crashes down on the desk. "I'm a fucking rockstar, Chris. That ain't enough publicity? This place is my baby, mine. What does that royal asshole know about what it's like to have a rough childhood? He thinks he can come here, give a little speech, smile for the cameras, and suddenly it's all about him?"

"What, now you care?"

He whirls on her, but the look she gives him makes him freeze. Chrissy sighs.

"Eds, you are so busy with the new album and the tour, you haven't even met the new volunteers. I said I'd manage the place, and that's fine. But you must trust me. Just do it for me. Please?"

The skate park has new graffiti, and he hasn't even seen it yet. Eddie exhales his cigarette smoke and watches how it curls up to the sign spelling Hellfire Youth Center.

Maybe Chrissy is right. Maybe he should be here more. Maybe he's been so caught up in the whole fame and fortune thing, he's losing sight of what's important, like-

"Watch out!"

Like guys on skateboards barrelling towards him.

Eddie throws up his hands. The guy tries to swerve, completely tips his precarious balance, and goes flying off the board and right into him. They land on the asphalt with an undignified oomph.

"Shit, sorry," babbles the guy and tries to disentangle his limbs from Eddie’s. "Couldn't brake-"

"S alright," Eddie hears himself say, even though his ass hurts like a bitch from the impact and he can already feel the bruises forming. "You can fall into my arms any time."

Skateboard guy blinks up at him and - fuuuck, he's cute! In a scrungly, beanie-stuffed-over-chestnut-locks, black-rimmed-nerd-glasses kind of way.

For a second, nobody says anything.

"For fuck’s sake," someone swears, and then little Max Mayfield is running towards them, ginger braids jumping with the movement. "I told you to be careful."

"Sorry," cutie with the glasses says again. Eddie has never seen him around. He must be one of the new volunteers Chrissy mentioned. "Guess I'll need to practice some mo- ow, shit!"

His hands fly up to cradle his knee. There's a hole and a rapidly spreading bloodstain in the fabric of his jeans.

"Oh fuck," Eddie says, and whips his bandana from his back pocket to press it to the wound. "Red, why don't you hop inside and get the first aid kit? I'll stay here with …"

He trails off expectantly. Cutie's eyes go wide.

"I, erm … Dustin."

"I'll stay here with Dustin."

Dustin, it turns out, isn't just cute, but also fun to talk to. He doesn’t gush about what a huge fan he is or ask for an autograph once. Eddie never thought he'd appreciate that one day, but it gets really old really quick.

Instead, they jump from one topic to the next, sitting on one of the benches and watching Max go on her board. Dustin has a quick, sharp wit and isn't afraid to counter Eddie’s jabs with his own, delightfully bitchy sense of humor. Damn, to think he almost missed this one. He really needs to be around more.

"I love this place, y’know? You created something great for these kids."

Eddie jerks to attention. The sun has started to dip, casting Dustin’s smile and the hair poking from his beanie in a soft golden light.

"Thanks man," Eddie murmurs, and feels the bitterness boil back up. "Some people seem to think it needs better publicity, though."

Dustin shuffles awkwardly, winces when the movement pulls on the Care Bears bandaids Max has plastered all over his knee.

"You mean the royal visit?"

Eddie huffs.

"Yeah, man. I mean, what are they expecting me to do, bow and grovel while his Royal Doucheness prances all over the place with his perfect hair and fancy suit and thank him for it? It's not like he cares about these kids, it's all just a gig to him."

Dustin draws his bottom lip between his teeth.

"You can't know that. Maybe he does care. Maybe he's-"

Eddie barks a laugh. "Oh, give me a break. All the royals are good at is looking important and spending our tax money. I can fucking do without-"

"Steve? We gotta leave, c'mon."

They both whip around. A fancy black limousine with tinted windows has pulled up in the parking lot behind them. A gruff looking man is holding the back door open and looking at them expectantly.

Dustin sighs and stands.

"Coming, Hop."

"Wait, wait, what?" Eddie babbles as he walks towards the car, shoulders in a sad little hunch. "What's going on? Who's that guy? Why's he calling you-"

And then it clicks.

"Oh fuck," Eddie says.

Dustin … no, Steve … no, Steven - Crown Prince Steven fucking Harrington - gives him a tight smile while the man ushers him into the backseat.

"Thank you for your time, Mr Munson, I'll see you tomorrow. I'll try not to be too much of a douchebag, I promise."

The door clicks shut.

The car glides away.

Eddie buries his face in his palms.

"Jesus fucking Christ. He's the fucking Prince."

Beside him, wheels grate on asphalt as Max brakes.

"Wow," she deadpans. "You're in some deep shit."

Eddie groans.

Tomorrow is gonna be a long-ass fucking day.

Part 2

All my holiday drabbles

#steddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddie brainrot #steddie fanfic #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #steddie ficlet #steddie holiday drabbles #hype's holiday drabbles

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harrywavycurly · 4 months

Text

Trouble Next Door: That Felt Good

Masterlist: Here

TW: One tiny mention of violence(keep your hands to yourself)

Tag List: @sinczir @rach5ive @bruher @kellyxo1 @tiannamortis @forrestfantasy94 @angelina16torres-blog @tlclick73 @gretavankleep37 @melaninjhs @amira0303 @robyn-118 @jaydaaasworld @squidscottjeans @rockstarmunsons @alanamarie @dandelionnfluff @aol19 @eddiesguitarskills @vampdaisy @br66klynbaby @raven-rust @daisyridleyyyy @i-love-ptv @josephquinnsfreckles @mrsjellymunson @hideoutside @eddiemunson-fanfic @paprikaquinn @burns-in-the-sun @cherrycolas-things @exploding-bonbon @krazyk99 @idkbbyx3 @amberpanda99 @munsonmecrazy

A/N: I have more planned for some bonus content but I hope yall enjoy this little look into what happened when Eddie and Steve run into each other✨

“I’ll take two more.” Eddie shouts towards the bartender as he gestures to the empty beer bottles he placed on the bar top. “Thanks Todd.” He adds when the bartender nods and gives him a thumbs up. Eddie lets out a sigh of content as he turns and leans back against the bar so he can scan the crowd that’s chosen to spend their Friday night at the Hideout. He runs a hand through his hair as he spots Dustin and Mike arguing in the corner by the pool tables knowing he’ll have to go break that up eventually if Dustin doesn’t stop poking Mike in the chest with his pool stick.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Eddie turns his head to the side and is instantly met with a pair of brown eyes glaring into his.

“Harrington?” Eddie’s question makes Steve roll his eyes as he crosses his arms over his chest. “What the hell are you doing here? You hate this place.” He asks as Todd places two fresh beers on the bar for Eddie.

“There’s only two bars in this shitty town and one of them is having karaoke night.” Steve answers as he gets Todd’s attention. “Double vodka soda please.” Eddie has to fight back the chuckle that wants to escape him as Steve orders his drink.

“Oh so you decided to spare the people at the Lucky Horse your rendition of Grease Lightning? That’s awfully nice of you Harrington.” Steve just ignores Eddie’s jab as he waits for his drink, he gets comfortable and leans against the bar next to Eddie and he knows to people passing by they’d assume the two men were friends but they’d be extremely wrong.

“Where’s your wife?” Eddie watches Steve’s eyes flicker to the gold band on his ring finger as he brings the full beer bottle to his lips. “I saw the announcement in the paper.” Steve’s voice is cold and sharp as Todd places his drink down next to him.

“She’s at home with Robin and Max having a girl’s night.”

“I knew she was in love with you.” Eddie stands up straight so he can turn and look Steve in the eyes as he takes a sip of his vodka soda. “You can’t tell me I’m wrong now Munson because that ring on your finger proves just how right I was…she never loved me…it was always you.” Eddie swallows hard as he places his beer on the counter and takes a step towards Steve who instinctively stands up so he can at least attempt to match Eddie’s intimidating stance.

“You’re such a dumbass Steve and I almost feel sorry for you…do you wanna know why I almost feel sorry for you?” Steve raises an eyebrow as Eddie just shakes his head and laughs to himself as he looks down at his boots. “She’d still be happily married to you if you wouldn’t have gone and fucked it all up…she was in love with you man and you just couldn’t see it could you? Couldn’t see how she looked at you like you hung the damn moon and all the fucking stars.” Eddie watches Steve’s face drop as his words hits him like a pile of bricks.

“No way…she never…she didn’t look at me like that.” Eddie just laughs and reaches for his beer so he can take a sip of it. “You’re full of shit.” Steve snaps making Eddie glare at him.

“She didn’t love me then at least not in the way you thought she did…she was just my bestfriend back then.” Eddie explains and Steve just stands there and Eddie knows he’s on the verge of losing it so he decides to just take one more small jab at him. “But then again I guess I should thank you or something because while she might’ve just been my bestfriend back then…she’s my wife now and that’s all because of you.” Steve’s eyes go wide at the realization of Eddie’s words sink in, he is the reason you and Eddie ended up together and it’s his own fault that you’re not his anymore.

“Fuck off Munson.” Eddie just smirks as he brings his beer up to his lips. “That ring is tacky by the way…gold isn’t for every-“ Eddie’s eyes go wide as he watches a fist collide with Steve’s cheek before he could finish his sentence.

“God that felt good.” Eddie just looks from Steve who is now slumped over a barstool back to Dustin who is rubbing at his knuckles with a giant grin on his face. “What a fucking asshole…this for me?” He asks as he grabs the full beer on the counter while Eddie tries to make sense out of what just happened.

“Uh yeah…yeah that’s for you.” He answers making Dustin smile as he grabs it and takes a long swig of it. “Let’s uhm maybe not tell my wife about this okay?” Eddie jokes as he and Dustin head towards the pool tables leaving Steve groaning in pain behind them.

“Yeah she’ll kick both of our asses so…you’ve got yourself a deal.” Eddie smiles as Dustin clinks his beer bottle with Eddie’s before going over and grabbing his pool stick so he can finish his game against Mike.

Eddie looks over his shoulder to see if Steve is still sitting there with his face in his hands and to Eddie’s surprise he’s no where to be found. Will comes up and stands next to him bringing him back to the moment at hand, Dustin and Mike’s pool game and the bet they’ve got going that Dustin can beat Mike because he’ll get so annoyed at how Dustin plays that he’ll just give up.

“Was that Steve?” Will asks as Eddie takes a sip of his beer.

“Oh no that was just some loser from highshcool…no one important.” With that Will just nods and Eddie goes back to enjoying his night out, he smiles to himself knowing that when he’s done here he gets to head on home where you’ll be up waiting for him.

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copias-girl · 1 year

Text

Lenten Sacrifice

Antichrist Popia x Catholic Reader

A/N: So Ash Wednesday was on Feb. 22 to mark the start of Lent, and instead of solemnly repenting, I was thinking of this. Since I’m on my way to hell, does anyone wanna tag along? <3

•♥︎𖤐₆⁶₆𖤐♥︎•

You’d just gotten back from Ash Wednesday mass, strolling through the grand halls of the ministry until you reached your beloved’s papal suite.

Upon opening the large door, you were met with the graceful sight of Copia, sitting on the sofa, waiting for you with a predatory glint in those dichromatic eyes. He wore his black ruffled blouse; the fitted leather vest that he wore on top was embroidered ornately in gold.

“Papa.” You greeted the man, a shyness suddenly coming over you.

Copia remained silent, instead just rising to his feet and adjusting his gloves while he pierced you with his sharp gaze.

You swallowed nervously, intimidated by the man you called your lover. You found yourself taking a small step backwards as your Papa slowly stalked towards you, only halting his steps once he was right in front of you.

He looked you over, huffing out an amused little scoff at the ashes on your forehead.

“No kiss for Papa?” Copia prompted you, and you immediately closed the gap between you, reaching up to rest your hands on his shoulders as you eagerly kissed him.

Copia’s arms were snaking around your waist as he forcefully deepened the kiss, letting out an obscene moan that you hungrily swallowed.

He loved the way your kisses would sting at his lips and tongue after you’d taken holy communion. His cock hardened at the way your fingertips would burn his skin after you’d dipped them in holy water.

It was gravely unconventional, a good little Catholic girl like you dating the Antichrist. Copia’s congregation found it strange, and if your mother ever found out, surely she’d be planning your funeral. But love doesn’t discriminate; and you truly did love each other.

Suddenly, your Papa pulled away, panting as a glistening saliva string still connected you. Lust swirled heavily in Copia’s eyes as he studied you while he caught his breath. These singeing, after-mass kisses never failed to rile him up, the bit of pain mixing with the pleasure to create something even more maddening. Your Papa was such a dirty old man, relishing in the taboo aspect of your relationship; getting a thrill out of the fact that he was corrupting such an innocent little thing like you. Reveling in the fact that he, the Antichrist, had taken your precious virginity and continued to ravish you every day that you visited him at his unholy ministry. Copia delighted in the thought that your family and your church would be absolutely appalled to find out that you were dating a man who was a whole lifetime older than you; and the Antichrist nonetheless. He was everything you had been warned about, and yet you took a big bite out of the forbidden fruit, the decadent juices dripping down your chin.

“Tell Papa, Dolcezza, what did you give up?” Copia asked.

“Wh-what?” You squeaked, a hot blush painting your cheeks as you gazed up at him.

“What did you give up, hm? Cioccolato?” He smirked condescendingly.

“Y-yes…” You cast your gaze down in chagrin, feeling silly.

“Ahh, you give up cioccolato for your god like a good little girl, yet you come here and suck the Antichrist’s cock every day.” Copia chuckled, causing your cheeks to burn in shame.

“I-!” You tried to protest, but your voice died in your throat as you realized you had no rebuttal.

“I wonder what your god would think about that, eh?” Copia growled, eyes glinting with dangerous mischief.

Before you could muster up a reply, the man turned on his heel, plucking something off the table, tearing the wrapper, and holding it up to you.

Your eyes widened as you stared at it. Damn it, pink chocolate. Your favourite.

Your uncertain eyes nervously flicked up to your Papa’s.

“Go ahead, little one. Take a bite.” Copia’s voice was eerily calm, almost verging on passive aggressive. When you made no move to obey him, the man clenched his jaw.

“Dolcezza, do you love Papa?” He asked, feigning hurt.

“Of course I do, Papa!” You cried, desperately reaching for him, upset that he’d think any differently.

“Then take a bite, Topolina mia.” He insisted. “Be a good girl and break your Lenten sacrifice for me, si?” A smirk was playing on Copia’s painted features as he taunted you.

Conflicted and guilt-ridden, your wide doe eyes stared into his half-lidded ones until you eventually nodded hesitantly. A small, barely-there little nod.

Eyes glimmering with delight, your Papa held the pink chocolate bar up to your lips once more, satisfied when you timidly leaned in and took a bite.

“Ah, what a good girl for Papa.” The man purred, discarding the chocolate onto the coffee table. He didn’t ask you to eat more, didn’t demand you to finish the entire bar, he just wanted you to take one bite. And somehow, that was even more despicable, because he made you eat just enough to have you breaking your sacrifice for him.

But who were you fooling? You’d do anything for your Papa, anything at all. He had bewitched you, and you were his willing victim.

What you didn’t know, however, was that Copia felt the exact same way about you. You were pretty clueless to the fact that you had the mighty Antichrist under your spell, all wrapped around your little finger.

Copia leaned in and gave you a kiss, humming at the taste of the creamy ruby chocolate on your sweet lips as you needily kissed him back.

“Such a naughty little thing, you are. Playing both sides likes this.” He teased you as you squeaked out pitiful protests, trying to tell him that no, you were good, you were a good Catholic girl. But how could you be, when you were with this man? You felt oh so dizzy; dizzy from his sinful kisses and dizzy from trying to justify your actions.

You gently bit Copia’s lip as he deepened the kiss, your tongues swirling together passionately as you helplessly melted into him, running your fingers through his luscious grey hair. You whimpered into his mouth when you felt his long, thick, hard cock straining against the corset of his pants and grinding into you; all while his gloved hands wandered lower, reaching under your short, frilly dress and grabbing two handfuls of your ass.

Before you knew it, you were being dragged into the Antichrist’s luxurious bedroom and forced into your knees.

“Fucking tease.” Copia growled, unlacing his pants with skilled gloved fingers. He pulled his heavy cock out, already reddened and weeping considerably as he ordered you to open your pretty mouth.

He didn’t give you any warning before he shoved his length past your lips, grabbing a fistful of your hair and beginning to fuck your face at a brutal pace.

You moaned in surprise, gagging on his cock as tears immediately began welling in your eyes. You did your best to take all of his impressive length, choking and coughing when the sensitive head of his cock hit the back of your throat over and over again. Your sounds were music to Copia’s ears, only spurring him on further.

“Do you go to confession after sucking Papa’s cock, Dolcezza?” Copia chuckled cruelly. “Do you get on your knees and pray for forgiveness? I only- fuck- I only want you to get on your knees for me.” He hissed, gazing at the ashy cross on your forehead as he continued to thrust roughly into your mouth.

You squealed out a humiliated moan around his cock, tears spilling onto your flushed cheeks as you stared up at him with bleary eyes, bracing your hands on his muscular thighs.

“You belong to Papa, little one. No other god, just me.” Copia snarled.

“You understand, si?” Using his grip on your hair, he pulled you off his cock so you could answer, satisfied when you only nodded rapidly while coughing and gasping for air. Barely giving you a break, Copia forced his cock back into your mouth as soon as he got your affirmation. Your Papa could be so merciless sometimes, but that was just one of the many exciting things you loved about him.

Gripping the sides of your head and continuing to fuck your throat, Copia growled out obscene moans, panting heavily. Shoving his length as far in as it would go, he held you there for a few moments, gurgling and sputtering around his girth while your nose pressed into his happy trail.

“That’s it, Dolce. My sweet girl.” The man shuddered breathlessly, seeing stars from the way your tight throat spasmed with each dry heave.

You suctioned your mouth around him, wanting to give your Papa as much pleasure as you could. He let out a loud, broken moan at that, beginning to thrust roughly once again.

“You suck my cock so well, oh- my good little slut!” He moaned, hips beginning to stutter as he neared his end.

You were fully crying on his cock now as you took everything he was giving you, his addictive praise causing your heart to flutter.

“Fuck! Oh, this sinful little mouth of yours! Dolce, I’m-!”

With a loud groan, Copia pulled out of your mouth and blew his load all over your face. Thick white ropes of hot, sticky cum painted you; dripping down your flushed, tear stained cheeks, your swollen lips, and even on the cross on your forehead. His big cock twitched as he came; and the man never failed to astonish you with how much he could give you, just cumming and cumming and cumming until he was finally spent.

You must have looked a mess, with cum and drool shining on your flushed and swollen lips, your thick lashes wet with crystalline teardrops. Copia smirked at the sight of you, smearing his unholy cum into the ash on your forehead.

“You pervert.” You pouted as he destroyed your holy marking. “And you got cum on my church dress too.”

Your Papa grabbed your upper arm and hauled you to your feet. “Oh? My little cockslut is worried about her church dress, eh? Her slutty little church dress?” He cooed, stroking a gentle finger across your cheek. “Look how fucking short it is. I’m surprised they even let you into that place wearing this.” He growled, causing you to shiver.

“I-it’s not slutty, you’re just a dirty old man who sees it that way.” You sniffed pitifully, egging him on.

“You call your Papa a dirty old man?” Copia echoed in exaggerated disbelief. “Is that what you think of me, Dolcezza?”

You only nodded, still pouting cutely as you licked some cum off your face, wiping away the rest with your sleeve.

“Well, what does that say about you, eh? You’re a little Catholic girl who loves fucking dirty old men.” Your eyes widened as he turned your quip around on you like a goddamn Uno reverse card. “You’re supposed to be a good little virgin, yet you spread your legs for a dirty old man every day and let him do what he pleases with you.”

“Papa!” You whined, clutching the fabric of his sleeves as you shamefully buried your face in his chest. You loved teasing each other; you loved it when Copia put you in your place. The shame only made your pussy wetter.

Copia didn’t waste any time in shoving you down onto his plush bed, planting a firm hand on your upper back and pushing you into the comforter when you tried to get up. He lifted your dress up over your ass, unceremoniously tearing your sinfully small panties down and off your legs. With a hand on each side of your ass, he stared directly at your pussy, which was dripping with an embarrassingly large amount of slick.

“Principessa, tu sei così bagnata.” Copia gasped, exaggerating his shock just to tease you. “Tell me, Dolce, if you are such a good little Catholic girl, why is your pussy so wet, eh?”

You now willingly buried your face in the bed to hide your shame. “P-Papa please…” You whimpered.

“What would your priest say, hm? If he could see you right now? Soaking wet and begging for the Antichrist’s cock like a whore.” Copia growled, cracking a sharp slap onto your ass and causing you to cry out.

You felt ashamed; what would your priest think? He would obviously be horrified and oh so disappointed in you.

“Does he know you’ve even let me sodomize you?” Copia taunted you with a condescending smirk. “Have you told him that during confession, Tesoro? That I’ve taken your virginity everywhere?”

“N-no!” You squealed, closing your eyes, pussy involuntarily clenching around nothing. You hoped that the wicked man didn’t see, but of course he did; nothing ever slipped by him.

“Ahh, do you like the thought of that, Principessa? Perhaps you should tell him what a naughty little thing you are. How you’ve given yourself to the very beast you were warned against.” Copia purred into your ear, voice dripping with lust. It always seemed as though his accent got thicker when he was aroused.

His fingertips trailed along your glistening slit, teasing just the opening of your pussy and pulling a high pitched gasp from you as he gathered your sticky juices. He pulled his hand away, licking his painted lips and watching as it webbed between his gloved fingers. He flipped you onto your back with one hand while he sucked your wetness off his digits, his intense eyes boring into yours as he did so. You cried helplessly at the sight, feeling an indescribable ache in your core.

After licking every last drop of your arousal off his gloves, your Papa forced your legs apart and, without warning, shoved his face between your thighs, his tongue immediately licking a hot stripe up your pussy and swirling around your clit before giving it a hard suck.

You screamed out at the intense pleasure, your fingers tangling in his soft hair, trying to somehow ground yourself. Copia’s grip tightened on your hips as your thighs closed around your head, grinding right onto his face. Your Papa never failed to make you feel like you were free-falling in the best way possible.

“So pink and tight. So wet for me.” He murmured before licking into you feverishly, slurping up your sweet nectar like a starving man. Your little mewls, yelps, and moans only spurred him on until you were writhing and whining in a pleasure-crazed frenzy.

Copia stopped just short of you cumming, leaving you desperately pleading for more. But within a second, he was ripping your dress off, roughly slinging your legs over his shoulders, and stuffing his thick cock inside your tight heat. He didn’t give you any time to adjust to his size, immediately beginning to fuck into you in an almost animalistic manner, hard and fast and merciless.

“Oh! Papa!” You felt like the wind was behind knocked out of your lungs with each of his deep thrusts, causing your eyes to roll back as he stretched you and filled you up so perfectly.

In this position, Copia’s big cock reached so deeply inside you that you swore you could feel him in your stomach. He precisely hit every pleasure spot inside you, the head of his cock slamming against your cervix as he muttered out strings of Italian curses.

You were utterly in awe as you gazed up at the man; his mouth hanging open, a few locks of grey hair falling into his face, and panting heavily as he used you as his fuckdoll.

“Take it! Take it! That’s it, Dolce, take my cock!” Copia growled, his gifted eye gleaming dangerously. It almost frightened you, the way it would practically glow in situations like this; but that little bit of fear only served to make you wetter. The grip he had on your hips was sure to leave bruises as he relentlessly fucked into you over and over again, showing you no mercy as tears rolled down your hot cheeks.

“Are you- fuck- are you my good little Catholic cumslut?” Your Papa moaned, trailing a finger across your lower lip.

“Yes, Papa! Aah-! Yesyesyes!” You gasped, lovingly nipping at his finger when it dipped into your mouth.

“That’s right. That’s fucking right, Dolce.” Copia snarled, his hand then trailing down to pinch at your nipples, causing you to arch your back off the bed, your legs tightening around the man.

You wept with pleasure, incoherently babbling and squeaking as you reached up to thread your fingers through Copia’s hair once more, pulling him down into a desperate kiss, all teeth and tongues and broken moans. Every time you were intimate with him, you were absolutely astonished at how hard this old man could fuck you. His thrusts were brutally relentless, taking your breath away; and before you knew it, you were about to tip over the edge.

“P-Papa, I’m-! Y-you’re gonna make me-” Your little voice almost sounded alarmed, helpless, as if you didn’t know what to do.

“Cum for Papa, little one, cum all over my fucking cock.” He hissed, sucking a dark hickey into your neck as his fingers found your clit, rubbing tight circles over the sensitive little bud.

With a piercingly high pitched moan, your orgasm came crashing over you like a ton of bricks. You wailed your Papa’s name over and over again, pussy fluttering and spasming around his thick length as your grip tightened almost painfully in his hair.

You convulsed under him, nearly feeling your soul leave your body as you just kept cumming and cumming; your pleasure so intense that you even squirted for him.

“Goddammit!” Copia cursed as he pulled out, giving himself a couple quick strokes before he was spilling his hot cum all over your pussy, grinding the sensitive head of his cock right into your clit, causing your eyes to cross and roll back as you moaned desperately.

It was all too much, the sight of your Papa shuddering and gasping as he stared at his seed painting your pussy and mixing with your own juices that were oozing out of you. You whined and mewled from oversensitivity, your legs falling open as your body went completely limp. Copia collapsed on top of you once he was finished, letting out a heavy sigh and wrapping his arms around you. Feeling his full weight on top of you was so comforting, especially as the post-orgasmic euphoria washed over the both of you like gentle ocean waves.

When you’d finally regained most of your senses, you were giving the man a gentle shove, and he rolled off you with a groan.

“Stay here.” You pecked his lips, limping into the living room, completely bare and dripping with your mixed cum.

When you returned, you found your Papa shirtless as he lay against the headboard, his blouse and vest discarded onto the floor, the corset of his rat-bitten pants still undone.

Your gaze swept over his beautiful form; his tousled grey hair, the 666 marking on his chest, the delicious little happy trail peeking out from his pants.

“Che ti preso?” He enquired curiously, but a mischievous smirk spread across his face as soon as you held up the chocolate bar and hopped back on the bed.

You bent down, kissing along his happy trail, his tummy, up his chest. You swiped your tongue over the mark on his chest, causing the man to exhale shakily.

Snuggling into Copia’s side and hooking your leg over his, you took a bite of the creamy chocolate, holding the bar up to his lips so he could have some too.

“I love you, you devil.” You giggled, placing gentle kisses along his jawline.

“Mm, ti amo così tanto, my little angel. Più di tutto in nel mondo.” Papa hummed dreamily, putting an arm around you and holding you oh so close as he gazed at you wondrously, his mismatched eyes sparkling with nothing but love.

Who knew the Antichrist was such a hopeless romantic? You sighed happily as the man leaned in to capture your lips in a kiss, simply unable to get enough of you.

The two of you remained in bed for the rest of the evening, sharing pink chocolate kisses and relishing in your sweet forbidden love.

𐕣𖤐 end <3 𖤐𐕣

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crazy-ache · 1 month

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Hello😙 Im here to request 17

(Wouldn’t mind if it gets smutty) (tag me if you’re already writing it)

17...to distract

Get it off me.

The singular thought pounded with every beat of her heart, reverberating under the walls of her skin. Get it off me. Elain repeated the command in her mind over and over again, loud enough that it drowned out his unexpected words from her memory. “This was a mistake,” he had told her before winnowing away into the shadows, as he always did.

As she raced up the stairs of the river house, away from the humiliation she had endured down below on the Solstice night, all she could feel was Azriel’s damn rose necklace choking her neck. She pumped her legs faster and faster in hopes of outrunning the tears pricking at her eyes and the sob building up in her chest; she needed to get to her room before the emotions escaped her, before anyone else could find her.

Her chest heaved—a warning of the inevitable. A tidal wave was inside her with nowhere to crash. Elain’s hand clutched the final wooden bannister, her feet shakily meeting the landing. Her room was just to the right of the stairs. All she had to do was make one more turn.

Except he was there. As if he had been waiting.

The awareness of his presence was instantaneous. Her momentum halted and with a slow turn of her head to the left, she saw Lucien standing outside his door in the hallway, his red hair nearly molten by the window’s soft moonlight. Of course he was here, as he had spent the night after the Solstice celebrations. Even in the darkness, she could see the gold of his mechanical eye, the sharp line of his jaw. Lucien said nothing as he studied her, which told her the truth she should have known—he knew exactly what had occured with the Shadowsinger just a floor below.

She took in his unreadable expression that cautiously appraised her. But did he really know?

That it was his fault she needed to distract herself with the Shadowsinger in the first place? That his very presence demanded to feed the primal beast that laid dormant inside her core, only awoken by the call of her mate.

To be wanted, to be liked, to be kissed, even temporarily...it was just to satiate the desire.

And so his rejection had stung, a sharp slap to the face, still burning as she beheld her mate at the end of the hallway. Her mate. Undoubtedly the reason underscored in Azriel’s declaration of his so-called mistake. And now the reason she was left once again with nothing but that near damning wanting that threatened to eat her alive.

The thought alone released the waiting tidal wave inside her chest. Elain grasped at the necklace, her other hand attempting to cover the sob wrenched from her throat. And finally, those words echoing inside found her voice. “Get—it—off—me!” She gasped, desperate to find enough air to fill her lungs before another cry shook her body.

For whatever it was worth, Lucien abided her command. He reached her in three long strides, where he stood behind her, two strong hands taking her by the shoulders. “Breathe,” he whispered, his grip and words steadying her trembles. “Breathe, Elain.”

There was a resounding beat of a drum. Lucien’s heartbeat.

With a soft touch, he pushed her thick hair to the side, his warm hands grazing the nape of her neck as he undid the necklace clasp with careful precision. It was barely there, but his hands gave her the urge to confess everything to him—that Azriel’s hands hadn’t come close to the way he felt. That Azriel’s scarred touch was a salve to the burn that the mating bond left her. And Lucien’s touch was the flame itself.

The cold chain left her skin and she could finally breathe, a sharp gasp filling her chest. She felt Lucien turn her, forcing her feet to move, until she faced him directly. Their faces were only inches apart and it was perhaps the closest they had ever stood.

She wanted to find the same anger mirrored on his face. She wanted to witness his hurt and confusion and jealousy she had assumed he would harbor against her. But it wasn’t there. Only something softer and kinder laid behind his gaze in comfort.

"It will pass," Lucien whispered, his eyes finding hers. Kinder than she deserved. "You will be alright."

Something about his words unleashed her. Elain could not hold herself up anymore, could not repress what was building up inside her. She threw her arms around his neck in an embrace, the tears sliding from her shut eyes. He tensed momentarily before snaking his arms around her waist, firm but gentle.

Elain could not stop.

Without an ounce of control, she dragged her nose along the column of his neck, inhaling his scent deeply, her fingers digging into his back. She didn't know what she was doing but she needed to fill her lungs with him. The scent alone made her head feel like a drunken haze. The only thing she recognized in that moment was the nervous flutter of his heartbeat in the pulse of his neck.

At her realization of what she had just done, Elain shuddered.

"It's only natural," Lucien blurted out.

”There is nothing natural about this," Elain hissed, stepping angrily back, away from his warm body, her skin crying out at the loss. "There is nothing natural about wanting you when I do not know you. There is nothing natural about dreaming of you constantly,”

But Lucien did not mirror her. Did not back down. In fact, he stepped closer. "Then look me in the eyes and tell me the truth—does this feel wrong?” He ran his knuckles across her cheek, and where their flesh met sang for mercy.

He was right and she knew. Gods, did she know it.

"I can't do this anymore," Elain breathed, glancing between the necklace and her mate. Lucien's face splintered into a frown.

And she hated that look on his face so much, Elain could do nothing but surge forward, her lips finding his own. She wasn't ready for this but she needed the distraction, needed to feed the starving, longing, yearning burn coiling at her core. She couldn't keep fighting. Not tonight.

When they kissed, it was fire meeting fire. When he touched her, he could have burned the entire city down with his heat. And when Elain's tongue crashed into his, there was only one certainty—this wouldn't be the end.

@bettdraws so sorry there is no smut but I gave u angst

Kiss prompts.

#OOPS NO SMUT #IM SORRY #MAYBE I WILL POST A SECOND PART TOMORRW #I took this one too seriously lmaooooo #elucien #elucien fanfic #elain x lucien #ask game #kiss prompts

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thebigoblin · 2 months

Text

dumb & dumber

tags: Established Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Failwolf Derek Hale, Failhuman Stiles Stilinski, is that a tag? it should be actually, Implied Sexual Content, Possessive Derek Hale, Attempt at Humor, Failwolf Betas, they're all just dumb tbh

"You know, you're kind of the worst," he says this with a pout on his face, the television in front of him blinking back his own face at him. He sorta looks cute with a pout. Huh.

Beside him, the couch dips with the weight of his boyfriend. An arm snakes up along the back of the couch, and he moves forward before that arm and his shoulders can make contact. The huff he gets at his pettiness has him scoffing right back.

"You're being petty."

"And you're an asshole. What's new?"

Another huff. A sigh. He stares forward, resolute.

"Stiles, please." Nope. He is not giving in. He deserves to be upset! "Baby," and oh no.

Stiles turns towards his left, and sees the forlorn look on Derek's face. His eyes are searching Stiles', likely trying to impart how unhappy he is, and how much he wants Stiles' forgiveness.

Stiles might have turned around to actually have a conversation, but hey, he's still got the upper hand here. When Derek reaches out to hold his hand, Stiles takes his wayward limbs towards himself and crosses his arms. Derek isn't happy, his nostrils flaring, but hey, Stiles isn't happy, either.

"Why are you so angry at me?"

Stiles instantly points a finger at his dumb boyfriend, wagging it at that dumb gorgeous face to punctuate his point, "Oh ho ho, don't you play the dumb boyfriend card with me! I wish I could tell Lydia she's right and that all men, no matter the age, suck at being a good boyfriend. But welp! I can't, can I? Because even now, after months of us having been together, I cannot tell people I have a boyfriend! Nobody in the fucking pack knows who you are to me, and you know what Erica has been planning, huh? Huh?"

Derek blinks his dumb, gorgeous eyes at him. He has been staring at these eyes for counting on four months now, but he still can't pinpoint what colors they are. Are they blue? Green? Hazel with gold flecks in them?

Fuck. He is getting distracted. He once again wags his finger at Derek's face, who, this time around, wraps his big, rough arms around it and pulls Stiles forward until Stiles stumbles right onto Derek's lap, and really, why is the universe so unfair? Why is Derek in a barely there wife-beater and grey sweats?

"You know what I am to you, Stiles."

Stiles resolutely stares at Derek's chest. His hands are gripped tight in Derek's, but Derek lets one of his hands go free to grab at his chin, forcing him to look up at the eyes that reflect the early morning sun in a deep, beautiful forest.

"Baby, I am yours."

"But not to the world. To them, you're a single, hot, in much need of a date Alpha werewolf. You're not mine in their eyes, Der."

His heart doesn't waver at the truth, but his chemosignals must change because Derek leans down to rub their noses together, dragging his down to Stiles' neck, scenting him.

Claiming him, in a way.

"If Erica is planning a date for me, she's not competent as a wolf. I might not have told them we are dating, but you smelling much more like us should be a clue."

Stiles noses his way down from Derek's nose to his neck, bites at the junction between it and shoulders just to be a little shit. Derek arches under him, and it has Derek's dick, from under the damned grey sweats, rubbing a delicious friction against Stiles' ass.

"We smell good, huh, Alpha?" He could say more, but Derek is already panting like he cannot take it any more, and hey, that is lips on his own and he can't really speak now, can he?

Derek kisses him with passion, pushes him down back on the couch so he is on top of Stiles.

"Erica needs to learn how to use her fucking nose. You smell like mine," Derek's growl has Stiles instantly wanting to take off his clothes and present to him, down on all fours and ready to blackout in bliss for hours, but.

Stiles pushes at Derek's chest so there's space between them, and asks, a bit breathless, "Why haven't we just told them?"

"You're a fucking tease. I'm going to ruin you once this conversation is over, understand?"

Stiles stares back, wide-eyed, pupils evidently dark. Licks his lips. Nods.

Derek grabs his hair and wrenches him in for a deep kiss before letting go, putting space between them.

They don't speak for a few minutes, trying to get back to some semblance of control. Once they are, Derek speaks.

"I haven't told anyone... because I forgot."

If this weren't Derek, and he wasn't Stiles, he would have been offended. Because what the fuck? But he is Stiles, and this is Derek, so.

"You figured everyone would use their super-sniffers?" Derek nods. "Except you also forgot not everyone is a werewolf, and that even those with super-sniffers are idiots. They would first figure out how to stop a bus with failing brakes from crashing by jumping in front of it rather than using their wolf strength to well, pull the bus Superman style."

"Yes, I'm aware my pack is brave but stupid. Especially because their leader is here with me."

"Hey!"

"Then why didn't you tell them?"

Stiles opens his mouth. Closes it. Scratches his head, his hair. Eyes fixed on the TV again, he mumbles, "I thought you didn't want to."

Derek takes his hand and points it at himself with a raised eyebrow. "Me? The one who has been scenting you extensively and making you wear butt-plugs? Me?"

His cheeks color with embarrassment. "Alright! We are both idiots. Got it."

"Truly made for each other." Derek again uses Stiles' hand to pull him forward, right until Stiles stis on Derek's lap. Again. Except this time Derek is already working to make Stiles' jeans dissappear. "Now, tell me about this date Erica has planned for me while you warm my cock with your pretty hole, okay, baby?"

"Yes, Alpha." Oh, coming to the Loft in a fit of anger/sadness was the best course of action today.

And Stiles is definitely going to pilfer that fancy-pants restaurant Erica has reserved for Derek's blind date with one of her college friends for a date for them.

And then he's going to be fucking annoying about calling Derek his, just like he is sure Derek is going to be insufferable about making it clear that Stiles is his in return.

#sterek #derek hale #stiles stilinski #teen wolf #sterek fics #sh.writesonmain #wrote this on monday and cleaned this up today #fun fact: did this while waiting for my turn during the recording of group presentations hehe #this week is so hectic #so glad this is the 2nd last week of sem!!!

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annab-nana · 4 months

Note

Kisses Meant To Distract The Other Person From Whatever They Were Intently Doing with Steve Harrington where ready was so focused on decorating for the holidays and completely ignoring Steve!

he is such an attention whore and needs it constantly and will get it by any means necessary hahah

warnings: not proofread, use of pet names (baby), christmas

❀ masterlist ❀

steve was never not in the christmas spirit. he loved everything about it. the gift giving. the time spent with family and friends. the food. all of it, but right now, all he wanted was you and your attention.

unfortunately for him, your attention was on decorating the house for christmas.

"turn it a bit toward me," you told him, watching his hand reach for the star to maneuver it to your liking. "oop, a tad too far." steve fixed it instantly, moving it mere micrometers before he heard your confirmation to stop. "that's good i think. come look at it and tell me if it looks good."

"i'm sure it looks wonderful, baby," steve informed you while stepping down the ladder. he couldn't even catch your eye when he walked over to you. that damn gold star had every bit of your focus. he never thought he'd be jealous of a christmas tree topper before yet here he was, wishing for its glory.

he rolled his eyes at himself before slipping an arm around your shoulders and gazing at the tree. this might be the best christmas tree steve's ever laid eyes on and he told you as much, "y/n, this looks amazing."

but your face didn't seem satisfied.

you leaned your head against steve's shoulder and continued to stare at the tree. "i feel like i'm forgetting something, but i don't know what."

"i think you've got it all," steve shared before his lips pressed a kiss to the top of your head and he pulled you into him with his other arm.

"no, i-" steve's lips moved down and caught your own, stopping the words you were speaking. "steve," you called between kisses.

"hmm?" he hummed absentmindedly.

"we're not done yet," you reminded him, though his lips were definitely putting a pause on your holiday decorating.

"stockings are hung," he started before placing his lips on top of yours again. "christmas tree is up." another kiss. "wreath is up." this time, he kissed your gasping mouth.

"that's it!"

steve pulled away, confused. "what's it?"

"the wreath. i never put it up because you called me in here to help you untangle the lights for the tree, so i never went back out there. that's what i was forgetting," you explained and took a step back to go put it up, but steve's hands on your wrists kept you with him.

"after the wreath is up, will we be done decorating?" steve questioned, a pout he probably wasn't aware of on his face.

your heart squeezed at it and you realized then what you'd been doing, more so who you'd been unintentionally ignoring. taking another step closer to steve, you brought your hands to his face and made sure your full attention was on him.

"yes, i just have to hang the wreath on the nail that is already in the door and then i'll come back in here and be all yours. sound like a plan?"

his smile was enough to keep you warm all christmas season. he surged forward and pecked your lips once more. "sounds like a perfect plan."

remember to support writers & reblog :)

turn on notifications for @annab-library to be notified when i post something new or join the tag list here!

tag list: @fiction-is-life @bradleybeachbabe @marjorie189 @jellyfishbeansontoast

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington blurbs #blurbs #marjorie189 #❀ marjorie ❀#winter wonderland sleepover ✧*:･ﾟ

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hiraethwa · 2 months

Text

one summer day

06 saturn ii. where ushijima’s words take you by surprise.

<< 05 saturn i. | >> 07 sun and moon. | << the collection >>

pairing: ushijima wakatoshi x reader a/n: i am back from my trip now, i will be posting more regularly again, thank you for staying! i loved reading the tags on your reblogs of one summer day, they make my heart go WAHHH! my inbox is always open if you want to chat <3 - ave word count: 1.5k warnings: angst, childhood trauma, parental neglect/verbal abuse, past death of a family member

april, second year

“you don’t have to be the person in your house with me.”

since he stayed with you that night, there has been a medley of conflicting feelings swirling in you. you had felt embarrassed in the morning, but also relieved for his presence. and this burning shame in your chest whenever you see him and his eyes seem to ask, are you alright?

you could tell he wants to ask so many questions, but he is holding himself back, waiting for you to tell him yourself. worst of all, you wanted to tell him, consequences be damned. but you were afraid he would see you differently. you don’t think you could bear the person who’s seen you at your worst decide you were not worth his time. but if you wait any longer, perhaps he would decide that anyway.

“what i mean is, you can be yourself around me, always.” you know that. deep down, you feel it.

“ushijima–” you start, staring down at your shoes, thinking about how to explain that day to him without trauma dumping on him.

he corrects you, “wakatoshi”

your cheeks color, testing the way his name rolls off your tongue, “wakatoshi… i owe you an explanation…”

you decide it is easier to start from the day everything changed. so you tell him what you haven’t been able to tell any of your friends since that day eight years ago. about your sister, akiko’s death anniversary. that she passed away in an accident, and that it was your fault for leaving her outside the house when your mother tasked you to look after her. that even though eight year old you went in to get some water for the both of you playing outside, it was still your fault. that she had ran out after a stray cat and did not see the car coming. that it was your fault.

“am i a terrible person?”

and then you hold your breath, knowing there is a possibility that he would have that accusing look in his warm brown eyes. beautiful with tiny flecks of greens and golds. you think those are your favorite features of him. and fuck, it would hurt like hell if that is the way he looks at you from now on. but you had taken a leap of faith, all you can do is hope for the best. hope that the feeling in your gut is not wrong.

“and your parents, why weren’t they around?” for their daughter’s death anniversary goes unspoken. of all the questions he could have asked, he sure did pick the most difficult one, you thought.

“let’s just say we all cope in our own ways. akiko’s death… it changed our family for the worse. my father threw himself into work to forget about it… my mother… her grief made her meaner, colder, it changed her.”

he gives you a concerned look, causing you to hurriedly explain that your mother is not abusive. “she’s just different than the mother i had when akiko was still here. she cared less about us, her words became sharp, like knives designed to hurt, especially when it comes to me, but she never laid a hand on us. i think her grief morphed into anger, and she never stopped blaming me for that day.”

“it isn’t your fault, you know that, right?” he grabs your wrist, turning you around to look at him.

your next words comes out in a whisper. “i know, but if i hadn’t left her, akiko would still be here. if i had done what i was supposed to, my parents wouldn’t have lost their daughter, and we could have been happy,” your voice cracks.

“you were a child. it wasn’t your fault. do you understand?” his strong grip on your shoulders forces you to look into his eyes. there was no judgement in them. no accusing look, no blame, only resolution. and they made you feel safe. “you cannot be blamed for your parent’s decisions, and it was their responsibility to look after their children’s well-being, not an eight year old child. your only duty was to grow up.”

an unidentifiable feeling overwhelms you, welling up tears in your eyes. what is it about me and crying in front of ushijima? you had been fine, just fine before he came along and messed up your coping system. every year before this on that day, you wouldn’t even cry, believing that all your tears had been spent when you were eight. that all you could do is feel empty and sad and self-destructive on that day while lying in your bed, staring at the ceiling until the sun comes up.

oh gods, you were eight, and you had believed that it was your fault your family lost a sister, a daughter, and your mother let you believe it. she never let you forget it. all the hurtful words hurled at you. all the pain you swallowed and carefully locked away in a box.

your home stopped being a home that day.

home should feel safe. home should be a place you long to be after a long day, not somewhere you dreaded. home should feel like a warm blanket on cold winter days, not a house that is a place to eat and sleep. home should feel safe. but it doesn’t.

you had known it for a long time. but you had been running away, refusing to face the fact. that maybe if you pretended hard enough, it would all go away. all this heartbreak that you had hidden away would vanish.

“i don’t think my mother fully forgave me for it. i don’t think she forgave herself either.” but you were only a child. and all you wanted was her love, and approval, and support, and presence in your life.

you look up at the stars shining in the dark sky, wondering if your sister is one of the millions smiling down at you from a far away distance. “she would have been in junior high if she was still here.” you smile sadly at the stars, thinking of the life that she could have had ahead of her. all taken away in one unfortunate moment.

“your sister would want you to be happy, to live for yourself. i think she would find solace in that.”

you turn sharply to look at ushijima. “i–i have been doing my best to survive.”

his voice turns gentle, “but not truly living.”

“have you spoken to anyone about this?” he inquires, though you think he knows the answer.

you clench your fists, looking away, a rising feeling in your chest that you identify as discomfort. oh, he is safe, but he is not afraid to tell you the truth, no matter how much it hurts. “you’re the first.”

no one would understand anyway. not your parents, if they even cared enough to listen to you. not your brother, who had pushed you to open up, he lost his sister that night too.

“then you no longer carry the burden by your lonesome. live, y/n, for you and your sister.”

live. he says it like it is so easy. as if living in that house doesn’t make you gasp for breath. if only your house did not also feel like your prison. if only being alive when your sister no longer breathes does not feel like a sin. as if everyday does not feel like being trapped in the past.

and then with excruciating realization, you admit it. “i don’t know how.”

the recognition leaves your head spinning, and you seek the comfort that you had felt in his arms. looping your arms around his torso, you bury your head into his chest. how do i do this how do i do this how do–

“you take it day by day. one foot in front of you at a time. and you keep looking forward.” he tilts your chin up, searching your eyes. “i will be right next to you.” he promises.

“don’t say things you don’t mean.” please don’t make promises you can’t keep.

“y/n, i only say things i mean.” you hope he sees the gratitude in your eyes. you really hope he means it. because you think you can make it, with him by your side. when you’re with ushijima, you can truly breathe. with him by your side, you can see a glimpse of your future tonight. maybe not tomorrow, not a month from now, but one day, you could be happy.

akiko, did you send him to me? thank you. i love you. i miss you. i miss you so much. but i think i need to learn to let you go now.

reblogs and comments are appreciated!

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