#That he's even CAPABLE of a love like this

[miirohs]

world burning [c.l.c]

pairing: Mob Boss!Charles Leclerc x Fem!Reader wc: 1.4k cw: someone is literally shot, charles kisses reader a bit forcefully an: to the anon who said they'd sell me their soul my cashapp is @bestfanficwriterever (jk jk, i hope that anon sees this tho). Real reminder to you all, again, that non of this stuff is to be encouraged irl and this is all meant as a fictional scenario!

“Charlie?”

You could hear him softly cursing in French on the other line, whispering as the bed creaked in the background. It was obvious he had just woken up, and you felt terrible for waking him as well, knowing the day he probably had.

“Qu'est-ce qu'il y a, tu ferais mieux d'avoir une bonne raison de me réveiller (what's the matter, you'd better have a good reason for waking me up)-”

“Charles, I've been arrested, I need someone to come get me.” 

The muttering stopped, grogginess disappearing from his voice almost instantly. “Y/n? Qu'est-ce qui s'est passé bon sang chéri (y/n? what the hell happened darling)?”

“Charles, not now please,” You chastised softly, looking to the door as the guards quietly conversed among themselves outside the room, “I have no idea why this is happening and what they’re gonna do to me.” “How did you even manage to get arrested… Nevermind that, I just hope you haven’t answered anything they've asked of you.” He groaned, heavy thumping over the phone as you looked nervously at the door for any indication they’d been listening to your conversation.

“I’m not that dull,” You said quietly, looking down at your lap, “and it couldn't have been anything i did, all they did was seize the car from me in the lot and bring me here.”

He paused for a moment, silent over the line. You pressed the phone against your ear, straining for any sounds on the other side of the line.

“Stay put. I’m coming to get you.”

A shiver ran down your spine and you fumbled, tripping over your words in a hurry to get them out.

“Char, what are you planning on doing?”

He laughed humorlessly over the phone, the sound of keys jingling and door slamming making you jump back from the phone as if it’d grown a head.

“Exactly what I said I'm going to do, come and pick you up.”

You swallowed the thick ball that’d formed in your throat.

“You know what- never mind, send someone else in your place, maybe Carlos?” You bargained, earning a soft chuckle from him.

“Pas de souci, mon amour. Je ne fais que commencer (no worries, my love. I'm just getting started). They should’ve learned not to fuck with the wrong person. I’ll be there in another 20 minutes, you won’t need to call anyone else.”

You shivered as the line went dead, looking at the now opened door, all the cops watching you with a suspicious look.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

All you could do was shake your head.

Not even a grand total of 15 minutes later, a shouting match erupted, followed by loud bangs.

There was a single person you could think of who was capable of this level of chaos, and you could have swore you’d heard him threatening the cops right now.

“Where is she?”

“Sir-”

“Don’t sir me, where the hell is she? Don’t tell me I have to blow another head off just for you to tell me.”

Everything seemed to fall silent for a couple moments, only a few voices daring to make a sound.

“Char?” You called out, a couple beats of silence weighing you down.

The sound of footsteps only got louder, stopping in front of the room you were in.

Keys jangled, the door slamming open as Charles walked in, a couple of police tailing him timidly to the outside of the door.

There were dark stains on his otherwise clean shirt, an indication of what happened visible in the peeved look on his face. Your eyes slowly trailed to his hand, a gun held tightly in his grip, smoking oh so slightly.

Noticing how your attention had drifted to the weapon, he put it down on the other side of the table as he approached you, shrugging off his jacket as he approached you.

“Tu vas bien maintenant (you're all right now),” He said quietly, running his fingers through your hair as he pulled you to him, “Come on, we’re going home.” 

You clutched his arm as he stood you up, eyes glued to the floor as you walked next to him.

You could hear their disappointed exhales, tinged with a bit of surprise as Charles kept a firm grip on your back, guiding you through the long hall to the main office.

As you continued to walk, he gently stopped you, turning around in the middle of the room as someone called for him.

“Fucks sake,” He sighed, turning around.

“Sir, i believe there has been a mistake-”

“What sort of mistake do you think you’ve made?” He snarled, his hand running down to your hand, lacing his fingers into yours.

“You see, the car we identified was yours and we thought that perhaps she’d stole it-”

“And you didn’t think to call me so I could deal with them myself?” He chuckled humorlessly, pulling you to his side. You held your breath, completely aware of what was about to happen.

“Charles, no-”

He shook his head at you, basically telling you to not interfere. You obliged, eyebrows creasing as you watch the poor man who had tried to explain himself get shoved to his knees.

“First off, you interrupt my very precious time, and then you have the audacity to say that you’ve made a mistake?” He stands back, waving at someone behind him to step forward to his side with a gun. “Do you know who she is?”

The man stumbled over his words, trying to plead for his life, but you already knew it was too late.

“Since you don’t seem to know, let me tell you. She’s the last face you’ll be seeing but since she’s here, I've decided to spare the rest of you for the time being. If I ever hear of anything happening to her again, anyone in this room will not be spared like they were today.” He remarked bemusedly, turning to you with the widest grin you’d ever seen from him.

“Chéri, close your eyes, and cover your ears as well.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. The second you did, there was a bang, followed by a thumping sound.

Something warm was on your face, but you didn’t dare open your eyes, shaky hands coming off your ears to touch your face.

“Don’t.” He was closer than you thought, causing you to jump as he rubbed what you assumed was a handkerchief against your face . “Don’t say anything, don’t look, just follow me.” 

You cracked open an eye, briefly wandering to the pool of blood a couple of feet away from you.

“What did I just tell you?” He remarked, barking at the rest in rapid french as he grabbed your hand and pulled you out the doors of the station.

There was an awkward silence as you lumbered into the passenger side seat, pressing yourself against the seat as he pulled out and onto the road.

“I’m sorry.”

“What are you apologizing for?” He muttered, hand reaching over to squeeze your thigh.

“I thought you’d be upset with me.” You looked down, noticing the dried blood on his hands, not that it made much of a difference to you anymore. Less than two years ago, you would have been horrified at the idea of blood within six feet of you, but you had come to accept it as a part of him you could never erase.

“No-” He punched the brakes, eyes slightly apologetic as you jumped from the sudden shock of stopping.

“No, no, Y/n, look at me,” His hand left your thigh, fingers curling around your chin and pulling your face to his, “You are not responsible for any of that, i gave you the car, remember? You are not to blame yourself because I would gladly do anything for you.”

“Char-” You whined, muffled slightly by the pressure of his fingers against your cheeks.

“I would give you the world to see you happy, so shut up and take it.” He pressed his lips harshly against yours, almost needy in the way he nipped at your bottom. Warmth seemed to stir inside you as he let you go, your own mind racing at a million miles per hour as he returned to the wheel as if nothing had happened.

However, under his breath, he muttered something that even escaped you as your thoughts drifted off elsewhere. “Le monde brûlera, si tu le veux ma chérie, je te le promets (the world will burn, if you want it to my darling, I promise).”

#mafia au #mafia!f1 #f1 mafia au #f1 mafia #mafia fanfic #mob au #formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x female reader #f1 x you #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x you #dark!charles leclerc #mob!au #f1 imagine #f1 fluff #f1 fandom #ferrari f1 #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc imagine #c16 #c16 x reader

[celtic-crossbow]

Blood Ties Chapter 26

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Mainly just pregnancy stuff

A/N: I hope I pulled this off while keeping our archer in character. Be gentle.

gif by @daryl-dixon-daydreams

You knew it was bothering him, it was evident in the way he moved. The jerking slices of the knife as he made bolts while he sat cross legged on the old railing across from you. You were perched on the porch swing—he had all but jumped up and down on it to make sure it would hold you safely—just watching him, guilt flaring to singe the inside of your chest. He wanted to go on the run, get the things that you and the baby needed, but you were scared. Hershel had said the baby could come any day. It was at your insistence that Daryl wasn’t going. You didn’t have to try hard, mind you. He was worried about leaving you as well.

Still, it wasn’t sitting right with him for the others to be risking their necks for his baby.

“Maybe you should go.” You finally said, picking at your thumbnail. You saw his movements come to an abrupt halt before continuing.

“Nah. Ya need me here.” He sniffed, starting up on another piece of wood. He had legitimate bolts with his crossbow, so you could only assume he was just trying to keep his hands busy. He was so undeniably torn and it was showing.

“I think you should. You know what I need. You’ve read the books. Maggie will be there to help with the medical side of things, the list Hershel made.” You sat up straighter, attempting to massage the little foot away from your ribs. Of course, Daryl noticed.

“S’wrong?” He was climbing off the rail and made it over to you in one long stride, giving you a once over before he sat down. He didn’t ask before taking over for you, lightly rubbing over the little form of toes with the smallest, gentlest of smiles. You’d almost consent to constant discomfort if it meant you’d see more of that expression.

“Thumper has a personal vendetta against my ribcage.” Your head found your partner’s shoulder, watching that same laser focus that had moments ago been on the wood he was carving now honed in on you. For a moment, you were just a couple expecting a baby. For a moment, the world hadn’t ended. For a moment, you had managed to find perfect. “I love you.”

Daryl’s hand froze but for a mere heartbeat before his fingertips continued chasing little toes as if he were playing a game with the baby, when in reality he was simply trying to divert the tiny digits away from your ribs. “So ya keep sayin’.”

“So you keep saying. Is that all you’re ever gonna say?” You weren’t angry, not even frustrated. There was merely a soft curiosity that sat in the back of your mind; along with the little voice that assured you Daryl was yours and you were his, even if he could never say the words.

“Dunno.” It always unsettled you when he spoke so quietly, small and fragile as if he feared his words would end in some sort of pain. God, you wanted to bury his father in a gopher hole, maybe even his mother and brother. It was normal for a person to be unsure of feelings, to question and explore before accepting what they were, good or bad. Daryl didn’t have that capability. He questioned. He explored. And then he feared, good or bad. He didn’t think he deserved good and he was so attuned with bad that it’s what came naturally in his own reactions. Perhaps he thought you were trying to fix him, when that couldn’t be further from the truth. You didn’t see anything broken. You saw someone who had never been shown what love was supposed to feel like. He wasn’t broken, he just needed to learn, and Daryl was good at learning. 

Still you persevered, your fingers finding their way into his hair, delicately tracing the scar from Andrea’s bullet. “Do you love me, Daryl?” Maybe narrowing it down to a simple yes or no would make it easier for him. Maybe you were pushing him. You would need time if the answer was no but you would be okay. He cared enough to be with you, to raise Thumper as a family. In the end, that was all you needed.

But then his hand stilled on the center of your swollen belly and he lifted his head to seek out your gaze. Even with all the emotion stirring in those stormy pools of blue, you could easily see the fear, but there was something else. You continued to run your fingers through his hair, the color darkening somewhat as it grew. Even with that comforting gesture, you held his gaze, heard his breath stutter, watched his lips move so, so nimbly without a sound. His free hand came up to brush back your own hair, tenderly tucking it behind your ear. As he leaned toward you, the corners of your mouth lifted into a welcoming smile.

“Y/N, I—”

“We’re heading out!” Glenn called from the doorway before stepping onto the porch. Daryl pulled away fast, his hands on his knees, eyes downcast. 

You were going to absolutely torture Glenn before you murdered him.

“You sure you don’t wanna go, Daryl?” Rick had joined Glenn and was checking his weapons before he finally looked up.

Daryl, though, only had eyes for you; his bowed head angled to see you, questioning. 

You sighed with a smile, giving him a nudge with your elbow. “Go. Try to find those bra pad things. Cloths suck and they hurt my nipples.” There was no deeper shade of red that could color his skin. You laughed, loud and true. “Go. We’ll be fine.” Licking his lips nervously, Daryl nodded and left the swing.

T-Dog held out the archer’s bag and crossbow. “Thought you might change your mind. Went ahead and grabbed these.” He only received a nod. 

The group began to descend the steps, but Daryl paused at the end, looking back to you. He closed the distance in seconds, a finger hooking under your chin to lift your face higher, even though you were already looking at him. “Be back ‘fore dark. Promise.”

That earned him one of your sweetest smiles. “We’ll be waiting.” You patted your belly. The rough hand at your chin, moved to your jaw, his thumb stroking the apple of your cheek. “I love you, Daryl. Be safe.” He hesitated, long enough for something to stir in your chest. Hope? Excitement? Then he merely nodded and was gone.

You and Lori were given the least strenuous tasks. She was not far behind you. A few weeks, her belly almost as prominent as your own. Luckily, you found it helped for folding clothing before stuffing them in the correct bag. Your bare feet were propped up in a chair across from you, your ankles swollen, squeezed by the socks that you had to wear to keep them warm. Your body just ached all over. Thumper Dixon was playing field hockey with your internal organs and the nausea you had definitely not missed was threatening to make a comeback. You just felt awful.

“The last month is the worst.” Lori commented while packing away some of Carl’s clothing. “And it’ll take a while after the baby comes to feel human again.”

“Growing a human fucking sucks.” You groused, one of Daryl’s few shirts lying spread over your torso. “And goddamnit, I have to pee. I always have to pee.”

“Means you’re hydrated at least. Silver linings.” Lori tittered. If anyone had been watching the two of you battling to your feet, it would have been worthy of more than a few chuckles.

“Thanks for going with me. Daryl would have a kitten if I went alone.” When you straightened, there was an immediate feeling of change in your body that had you looking to Lori, eyes wide. “Holy shit, I can breathe but I feel like I’m gonna piss my pants and my hips hurt.”

She smiled and placed her hands over her own round bump. “The baby dropped. You're carrying differently now. I wish we had a mirror.” 

“Carrying differently? What do you—oh.” You immediately noticed when you began to massage the taut skin that the swell sat lower. You suddenly couldn’t remember a word the old man had said. Were you about to go into labor? How would Daryl know? You couldn’t do it without him.

“Easy, Y/N.” At some point, the other woman had crossed the small space and put her hands on your shoulders, your stomachs brushing against one another. “It just means the baby’s getting ready. Though, I think after this run, Daryl should probably consider staying behind on any others.” You nodded, trying to get your breathing under control. In through the nose, out through the mouth. “Let’s go take care of business and then let Hershel do his daily thing, okay?”

You nodded again, a jerky motion while you trembled. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.” You followed behind her, trying to keep your mind on the fact that if you didn’t empty your bladder within the next couple of minutes, you would still be incredibly anxious but you would be so with wet pants. “Maybe the little gremlin can’t reach my ribs now.”

You felt like crap. All day, you felt heavy and sluggish, swollen and nauseous. By late afternoon, you just couldn’t stand it anymore. 

“Carol.” You spoke her name quietly, leaning onto the dusty countertop to pillow your head on your folded arms. You saw the concern on her face when she turned from canned foods with which she was planning small meals. You couldn’t even wave away her worry. “Do you need my help right now? I think I’d really like to lie down.” 

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” She came to place a hand on your back, rubbing softly. It only succeeded in making your yearn for Daryl to be there, easing your fears in his own Daryl way. He would probably already have an aneurysm when someone told him that you’d done work, light as it was. And then you needed to tell him that the baby had indeed dropped. God, even if you didn’t tell him, he’d notice with that keen eye of his. Your stomach had shifted, still round but lower. There was so much pressure on your pelvis that you thought the bones might separate at any moment. Lori had promised that what you were feeling was normal, that it was simply new and you would take a day or two to adjust unless the baby decided to make its debut before you could.

“I just don’t feel well.” You stood straighter, nodding that she could remove her hand and you were fine. “I’d rather have Daryl come back to me feeling like shit and resting than to me feeling like shit and trying to help get things done.”

“I can’t argue with that.” She laughed. 

Carol was about the only other person in the group that Daryl dropped any of his walls around. With Rick, it was all business. There was respect there, but not yet friendship. You could see it though, the subtle changes in your hunter. He was getting comfortable around these people. It was a snail’s pace but if they were anything like you hoped they were, he would be granted their patience. God knew, he had earned it. 

“Come on.” Carol urged. “Let’s get you settled.” 

With each step, you whined, feeling less and less like the woman you had been only months before, like she had been left behind somewhere, starved or trampled by a herd. “I hate this. Is it wrong to hate this?” You grimaced at Carol who only chuckled breathily, her hand resting on your cheek.

“It’s not wrong. This is a lot. Our bodies do a lot.” A couple of soft pats and then she bent down to straighten the bedroll and arrange the blankets. 

You were watching, actually finding yourself excited to be off your feet and deciding that a nap wouldn’t be so horrible when there was a strange feeling low in your belly. It started as a gradual tightening but soon turned into an unyielding cramp, your stomach hard beneath your hands as you grabbed for your sweater. You gasped Carol’s name, could hear her clearly calling for Hershel but you couldn’t seem to respond, swallowed up by every fear that had been looming like a dark shadow for the past few weeks. The pain wasn’t even horrible, not like you had imagined at all. But it was terrifying. The only thing you could think of to do was hold the area that housed your little Thumper and whimper out Daryl’s name.

A bed had been cleared, dusted, and made for you in the downstairs room. As you laid there, resting, and stared at the half empty cup of water on the bedside table, you overheard Beth and Carl animatedly re-telling how two walkers had shuffled by the driveway gate. The children had hid and remained quiet, reporting that no others were seen once those two had moved on. You weren’t naive enough to hope that it didn’t mean more were coming. The group would need to pack up and head out likely within the next day or so. 

“Braxton Hicks.” Hershel had stated matter-of-factly. He had expressed that he was actually surprised you hadn’t experienced them before then, added that maybe you had but they were so mild that you just didn’t notice. You had two more instances over the course of three hours but nothing since then, though your body seemed to be in a constant state of dread, waiting for another to happen; for it to be more than what Hershel had said. You were waiting for something to be wrong.

Beyond the dusty, tattered green curtains, you could see the light fading. Daryl would be back soon. Would he blame you for bringing this on by doing a little work? Would he be angry? He’d be beside himself with worry, that much was a given. Hershel had said you could do small chores, that it was good for you to be moving, but what if Daryl didn’t see it that way? The morning had started so perfectly. The conversation had been left unfinished but it didn’t seem to have been heading anywhere bleak. 

“Ugh.” You didn’t know what was more exhausting, your body or your brain. Each time you closed your eyes, your mind ran rampant with each and every wildly negative scenario it could possibly conjure. You groaned and rolled to your other side despite the effort and apprehensiveness of even moving. Letting your eyes close yet again, you fought against the intrusive thoughts, forcing images of what Thumper might look like instead. A little girl with Daryl’s eyes and your smile. A little boy with unruly light hair like Daryl’s had been, a constant scowl. You laughed softly, wetly, shedding a few tears around your smile. No matter the sex of the baby, you hoped for Daryl’s eyes. They were the one thing to always gave him away, no matter what expression he wore. With a baby that couldn’t communicate needs and wants, you would at least have that in your corner.

At some point, you must have dozed off, opening your eyes to the sound of the old truck Daryl was driving. Looking to the window, you could see the faint light of dusk giving way to the moon. He’d kept his promise, albeit barely. You didn’t care as long as he was back. Shifting and struggling, you finally made it upright just as you heard Glenn’s all too cheerful voice, though you couldn’t make out the words. Rick’s few words trailed right after. Then there was Daryl. He spoke but then there was nothing more than hushed tones. Hershel offering the day's events, most likely. A thud was followed by echoing stomps of boots pounding against the hardwood floors.

“Where is she?” Daryl roared, closer to the door.

“She’s fine, son. She’s resting. This is normal. It just caused a bit of a fright. She just—”

“Where. Is. She?!”

The old man must have nodded or pointed because the next thing you knew, the door was swinging open with Daryl’s silhouette backdropped by the soft candlelight in the other room. His shoulders were heaving in what sounded so close to sobs that you squinted your eyes for a chance to catch his expression before he moved, startling you with how quickly he had one knee on the bed and was leaning in to check you over himself. He was filthy, mostly dirt and grime, but spots of walker blood and a cut across his cheek that was no longer bleeding. 

“What happened?” You asked, reaching for his face but letting your hand hover in fear of hurting him.

“Don’t matter. Ya alright? Baby okay?” He was breathless, either from his haste to get to you or maybe just with worry. He was touching you without hesitance, his hands in a mad rush to feel your face, neck, your belly. You watched his eyes go wide and knew exactly what it meant. “Why’s it look diff’rent?” 

“Thumper dropped.” His eyes were dancing back and forth as he flipped through his mental catalog of reading material and Hershel’s words. Relief was evident in his posture when he recalled what he had been searching for, but he was still tense.

“Hershel said ya was crampin’. The fake shit. Does it hurt now?” You shook your head and watched him finally sink onto his hip beside you, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Shouldn’a gone. Ya didn’t need to be alone through that.” 

“Hey.” You leaned as far as you could, to guide his hand away with one hand while the other used his chin to turn his face toward you. “I wasn’t alone and we’re okay. It’s just my body getting ready.” Daryl’s head tilted, his expression displaying his gratitude for your attempts at consolation but also heavy laden with guilt for leaving you there. “Daryl, you had to go.”

“Didn’t hafta do nothin’. Could’a stayed right here where ya need me to be.” 

He hadn’t asked what you had been doing. Maybe it wasn’t that important to him after all. He seemed to be more concerned with what happened and how you currently felt than anything. You truly needed to start trusting him as you wanted so badly for him to trust you. Your palm left his face and wrapped around the back of his neck, not needing much pressure to pull him to you for your lips to press against his. It was gentle and chaste, his hand leaving your belly to cup your jaw.

“We’re okay and you’re here now.” You soothed, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Just—no more runs until Thumper’s here, okay?”

“No more runs.” He agreed, his eyes closed, forehead against yours. “Ain’t leavin’ ya again.” His hand lowered back to your belly, rubbing back and forth. It was always the most tender thing you’d ever seen from him. You didn’t think him the type but he actually seemed to be calmed by the action. “D’ya need anythin’?”

“Just you.” You let him help you lie back, but he didn’t follow. 

“Need to clean up. I’ll be quick.” He made to stand up but you grabbed his forearm and pulled yourself up again, not stopping once you got there. He gave in to your incessant tugging and wrapped his arms around you. “You’re gonna need to change too now.” You sniffled, trying hard not to cry, but you were just so overwhelmed with relief that he was back in one piece, that nothing bad had truly happened, that he was going to stay. “Don’t cry, woman. M’here.”

“I know. I’m just—I’m happy. I have you and Thumper. And—I don’t deserve you, Daryl Dixon.”

Daryl scoffed, rubbing his cheek against the crown of your head. “Ya deserve way better than me, Sunshine.” He took a deep breath that actually shifted you against his chest and then he was tightening his embrace. “But I love ya. An’ m’here unless ya tell me to get lost.” He pulled away before you could say anything, heading quickly for the door with one last look before he walked out. You were stunned frozen, silent. 

He said it.

He said it and you could feel that he meant it. His actions had always conveyed it, but hearing it from his mouth was everything. 

Thumper rolled and kicked before going still, reacting to all the emotions you were feeding to them through your bond. When you laid down again, it wasn’t hard to fall asleep. No wicked images formed behind your eyes. Just those words replaying in your head, a baby’s tiny hand gripping a large finger. A child’s giggle. And then his voice again.

Your eyes didn’t want to obey when you bid them to open, the mattress dipping beside you, the sheets moving. A warm arm pulled you against an even warmer body, enveloping you in a veil of safety.

Everything would be okay.

Because you loved Daryl.

And Daryl loved you.

#murda writes #daryl dixon #blood ties #daryl dixon x reader #the walking dead #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl x female reader #pregnant!reader #daddy!daryl incoming #daryl #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixon twd #the walking dead daryl dixon #daryl dixon the walking dead

[hazelfoureyes]

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

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

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

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

🎶 minors DNI 🎵

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His room, fucking hell. 

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

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

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

“No things you enjoy?”

“No romantic interests.”

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

You did.

“I do.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No, obviously not!

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

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

Alastor held it up, “Oliver Twist.”

“Never read it.”

You had read it.

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

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

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

Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

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

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

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

“You will.” 

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

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

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

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

You dreamt about home. About red eyes and warmth.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lonely. Pathetic.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nngh no.”

“Theeen, no.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nodded quickly.

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

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

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

Wasn’t that the point?

What was the point?

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

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

You had… Hobbies. You liked swimming. 

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

What were you thinking about this for again?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Stop crying.

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

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

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

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

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

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

 “Good girl.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Home?”

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

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

“I’m not supposed to be here!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You thought for a beat, “It can be.”

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

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

Heaven was just beyond the shining circle.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A warning.

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

You heard the door lock from across the room. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

ᡣ𐭩ˋ°•*⁀➷ masterlist

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

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

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

🏹Alastor stalkers: @celestial-vomit , @amurtan

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

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

@sugurubabe , @zzzykiek , @phamtasic

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

[takami-takami]

Keigo Takami — Nsfw Alphabet

6k. Hawks x Reader. Minors dni.

- ̗۪۪̥̀৩ु˖❥ A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Oh, Keigo is sickly sweet.

All that post-orgasmic fuzziness is getting funneled directly back towards you: the object of his affections. Every chemical that bursts and pops in his brain when he comes inside you is getting channeled right back into plentiful doting, post-sex. 

Keigo's aftercare… It's riddled with indulgent pampering. You know how some dogs bring you their favorite toy to make you happy? Yeah. It's kinda like that. If you had feathers, he'd preen them between his fingertips.

Keigo's the kind of dom who's primary form of aftercare is giving aftercare. He needs to see his hands soothe and treat you like royalty in order to be normal. At his core, Keigo is quite the sensory, visual creature. When he sees your eyes slit shut like a purring cat beneath his touch, that's when he finally allows himself to breathe.

The hero who is so desperate to help and wants to see people smile more than anything, to the point that it disintegrates him, finally being given a healthy outlet for all those urges to protect and provide and keep you safe? Yet it's still a kind of "work" that satisfies his workaholic nature without feeling like work at all? And it simultaneously serves as the purest, most soothing indulgence he's ever had the pleasure to sink his teeth into? 

Oh my god. It makes him normal.

Physical touch is a big one. He's a bit handsy and gets in your personal space, but you don't mind one bit, so it bodes well for the both of you. If you let him pull you into the bath with him after, he likes to wash and run his palms along your body even though you're perfectly capable of doing something like that yourself. His little "let me, babe" is an instruction and a beg all at once. Expect him to get a bit playful with the bubbles, though. 

Part of why Keigo loves baths with you is because of the part where you turn him over, gently preening and pinching the bristles of each feather until his brain melts to goo once more.

You're going straight to bed after. No buts. You deserve some well-earned rest after you did so good for him. Keigo made sure to start buying the softest blankets and pillows he could find after you started getting intimate together. Don't ask him why.

Keigo doesn't shy away from verbal affirmations, either: "Oh, baby, you did so good for me", "you're perfect", "I'm so proud of you." He never did like holding back his true feelings on things, and speaking to you is no different. He is going to let it spill and that's that.

For aftercare that he needs personally, be sure to reflect how much his aftercare helps you and be honest about what you need! Whether they're verbal or not, he's quite skilled at understanding cues. It's good for him to be shown the fruits of his actions for a change, even if he doesn't think he needs it. 

It's good for him as much as you.

- ̗۪۪̥̀৩ु˖❥ B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Keigo never stopped to think about his favorite part of his body. If you asked him, he'd likely cock his head to one side like a doberman puppy given a command they can't exactly interpret on the spot.

He supposes everyone expects him to answer with the word "wings"— even though those closest to his inner circle would balk at such a notion, knowing how complicated that whole situation is. Yes, and no. 

The answer comes easily, after he meets you. Keigo likes the way you look into his eyes. In that way, he learns to love them.

He abhors his hands, but he worships yours. Every bump and ridge, the sharp roundness of each knuckle, the length of each finger. The way you hold him, the way you touch him. He'd shudder in recounting this, if you were to ask him what parts of you he likes best.

He also adores chests. That skin-to-skin contact is soothing; and although he can hear your heartbeat through his feathers already, pressing his ear directly against the source grounds him deeply. It makes him feel ablaze and at peace all at once, the bareness of your skin.

- ̗۪۪̥̀৩ु˖❥ C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

This boy cums a lot. Like… Genetically. He's blessed. Whatever god is out there gave him the right equipment for his breeding kink in a stroke (ha) of good luck.

Keigo cums sticky, excessive, fat ropes— his backshots are insane, his facials outrageous, his creampies coating the sides of his cock white and spilling out of you before he even can pull out because there's just not enough room for all his cum inside you.

Keigo is a gentleman, so he will ask your input respectfully beforehand without letting his desires slip through the cracks when he pants the question, "where do you want me?"

But you both know the truth.

You're perfectly aware there is nowhere else his poor, sad, pathetically needy dick would rather burst and throb than stuffed deep inside you. Balls deep, as flush as your bodies can practically go, subtly grinding against your ass rather than thrusting because he would rather die than pull out even a fraction while he's in the midst of an orgasm this good.

The orgasms he experiences when he's inside you are the closest Keigo will get to religion.

How else is his cock supposed to get milked? Not inside of you? Fuck out of here.

- ̗۪۪̥̀৩ु˖❥ D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He, uh… Likes to be humiliated and talked down to. And stepped on... A lot. More than a lot. It makes his brain go fuzzy with the lack of control. Don't ask him where that kink comes from. Really, don't worry about it!

Keigo is also the type of guy to swear he's not into feet (he's into feet). No, really, he just thinks your boots suit you and he swallows a lot around them because he's just so fascinated with the, uh… The style. Yeah. You can prop your feet up on him like a footrest, if you want. It's intimate, or something— whatever, just do it.

Can he kiss them? Can he unlace your boots? Do you want a foot massage tonight, babe? It's no inconvenience, really, don't worry about it, he insists… Please? Fuck, please, would you let him touch you, your skin is so soft, he promises he's been so good please god just let him feel your soles against his hot, throbbing cock— I mean his hands. When he massages them. As a favor to you. 

Fuck, his dick is hard now. That's your fault. This is all your fault for wearing sleek leather and not ordering him to rut against it like a fucking dog. Leather boots as a "fashion choice" his ass, you're torturing him. You have to be doing this on purpose. That's your fault, not his, but he's sorry anyway if that means you'll punish him by stepping on his dick so gently with your—

- ̗۪۪̥̀৩ु˖❥ E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Virgin loser.

But no, seriously, Keigo has had neither the time nor the cognitive space to stop and consider his own sexuality, let alone experiment with it. It's not like he would have trusted anyone enough to do so with, anyway. Fat fucking chance.

As far as whether he knows what he's doing, he starts off tentative and curious, absorbing the information of your body and voice like a damn sponge. When he tests the waters, so to speak, he starts slowly and observes any miniscule quirk of your muscles, every hitched breath in response to the stimuli he offers.

Keigo is a quick learner and a perfectionist. Don't expect him to take the backseat for long.

- ̗۪۪̥̀৩ु˖❥ F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Missionary.

Undoubtedly, missionary. He's romantic, like that.

What more could a man want? Your ankles hooked across the small of his back, his right hand entwined with yours while his left kneads every inch of your body, focusing on petting your sex whenever he wants to hear your voice whine for him. 

Keigo gets the perfect view like this. He can absorb all you have and breathe it into his lungs and swallow it while he gulps down your image like a sacreligious idol. Like an angel. Like worship.

The connection of it all maddens him. He adores the way he can press your thighs up and into a mating press if he so pleases, deep enough to stuff your guts full of him and make you sob gooey tears with how good it feels. It allows him unbridled access to your thighs, your chest, your hands, your mouth (which he plays with unashamedly like his favorite toy. Fingers, tongue, lips.)

God help him, Keigo loves missionary.

- ̗۪۪̥̀৩ु˖❥ G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

As serious as Keigo wants to take the love you share, for every intimate night you make love and absolutely nothing else, there's another day he makes you laugh so hard your chest aches like a bruise in bed.

Keigo can be a brat. A little shit, a pain in the ass. This is no secret. Still, every joke and nibble and tackle and moan is utterly saturated. It's sticky. It's lovesick.

He likes to banter in battle, and that switch doesn't turn off when the conflict is between the sheets. There are nights he simply allows himself to be your pillow princess, laid back and spoiled in the fluff of your bed like it's made of heated cashmere; and there are other nights you grant Keigo the holy sacrament of servicing you while you simply lounge and watch him do what he does best. 

Those nights, not many words are exchanged. There's no need to say them.

You get each other.

Even so, you cannot count the amount of times you've choked "shut the fuck up" through laughter over the years, when sex looks more like tussling than worship. It's stress relief as much as it is bonding, play as much as it is intimacy. Still, Keigo keeps a good balance of humor and seriousness.

Can't have all work and no play, can he? He never was a dull boy.

- ̗۪۪̥̀৩ु˖❥ H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Keigo has trimmed hair that is still blonde, but slightly darker than the hair on his head. It's well-kept. 

He keeps his chest bare, unfortunately, to look photogenic for his modeling gigs and such. But after many nights spent begging and pleading on your knees, Keigo sort of considers keeping the happy trail. After the night you traced your tongue down the trail toward his cock, promising he'll get this kind of treatment if he keeps it, Keigo never shaves it again.

Oh, Keigo's happy trail… It crawls up his navel and stops just short of his belly button; dark and noticeable, but a little sparse, kind of like the scruff on his chin. It makes him look more rugged while simultaneously making him appear prettier somehow, because Keigo is nothing if not unfairly contradictory and magnificent in everything. Asshole. 

You suppose anything would look good with those abs as a backdrop, though.

- ̗۪۪̥̀৩ु˖❥ I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect?

Keigo never knew intimacy before he met you. It sounds like hyperbole, the word never; but whether people believe him or not, it doesn't erase the decades of longing for no one and nothing in particular, a parasocial ghost that both plagued him and kept him trudging forward. 

Keigo builds community for others, working to connect their hearts… Why wasn't he invited, again? Oh well, that doesn't matter to him. That's not why he does the work he does. His own happiness is never why Keigo does fucking anything. 

It's for the greater good. And Keigo is worse than everyone else, isn't he? It makes sense why he wouldn't be invited. He never stopped to question that.

You don't touch him like he's dirty, though. The first time your palm slid up his throat, he stiffened and trembled like a twig that might have snapped beneath your boot; but when you hush him this softly, he's a stray kitten in your maws, plucked and wrapped for the first time in fleece and warmth and love. For as feral as the world made him, Keigo is at his core quite a domestic thing. You put him back in place when you make love to him.

In turn, Keigo offers himself to you. It's not much, but it's yours if you'll have it, he says. The louder he gets when you fuck him, the more you realize he's opening up his lungs like buds awake from frost. 

You know from experience what that's like. He opens you up, too.

- ̗۪۪̥̀৩ु˖❥ J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Keigo had to go through a bit of a journey to arrive where he's at. 

Namely, over the course of his sad little life, he underwent three categorical phases. Do not mind the tiered nature of the following sections. This shift was, in actuality, torturously gradual; like having one's body dragged forward by its ankles, finally accepting you have no say in where it's headed after a few desperate claws at denial.

Jerking off was a chore, a half-assed attempt at wringing the frustration of a long day out of his body and letting it wash down the drain on Sunday nights— every other time of the week was booked to the nines with hero work. Ten minutes for yanking it, tops. If Keigo timed his sessions with a stopwatch, he'd fall just short of the millisecond every time. Score. Efficiency. Plop down in bed and go straight to sleep after so you don't have to think about how lonely that whole experience just made you feel.

Enter, scene: you. After meeting you, masturbation just wasn't the same. It frustrated him that he even had to use the same word to describe it, because as far as Keigo was concerned, this was not the same activity in the slightest. Those were the golden years, when jerking off felt less like "rubbing one out" and more like "this is how it feels to drown in liquid gold. This is how it feels to have your cause of death be every neuron in your brain spontaneously combusting in a fit of pleasure. This is how it feels to be in love." The first time he allowed himself to touch his cock to the thought of you, Keigo swore he saw god; and when he finished an hour later, the back of his hand was chewed to whimpering bits. Yeah, those were the golden years.

And here we are, back to square one. After you finally get together, Keigo is back to square one. What do you mean he has to use his own hand when he's on missions away from you? What do you mean he can't cum inside you? This sucks. This blows. It's not the same, and for all his patience and respectability, the lack of passion when he touches himself kills Keigo with sexual frustration. The only thing it accomplishes is planting a pathetic whimper of "fuck, I miss them" in his head while he pants post-orgasm in a shitty motel bed alone at two in the damn morning. You do get a really cute text message after every time; something chaste like "missing you tonight <3." It's so obvious. You simply have to laugh.

- ̗۪۪̥̀৩ु˖❥ K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Breeding, obviously. 

Dumbification, both ways. Thinking is overrated! And honestly, he deserves a bit of a break from all the whirring that goes on in his overheated, overworked, cognitive machine of a brain. Something about the responsibility for guiding his partner through it when he's the one who doms is special to him, too.

Oral fixation, because he's the cutest little biter. He chews. Keigo also gets lost with his mouth latched onto your chest, flicking his eyes upward periodically when he has the mental faculties to think for half a second (which is not all that often, when his mouth is full, his lips are pursed, and his tongue is lapping its fill.) He also adores giving head!

Subspace, too— Keigo is a fiend for subspace, either guiding you through it or getting lost in it, himself.

Huge fan of edging and overstim. Keigo is not a physical sadist at all, he never wants to make you cry out of pain; but tears of frustration are not just "on the table," they're a goddamn feature. He is such a pain in the ass. You can't blame him for being insufferable, for stopping just short of your orgasm when you want to cum and forcing more out of you when you think it's too much. He's just having so much fun!

Keigo is the kind of guy to edge you when you say you're close and click his teeth dramatically before he goes, "ahhh, shucks, baby. What was that? Did you ask for something? I didn't hear you that time. Ask nicer." 

He tilts his chin to the side and taps his ear with two stiff fingers when he leans in, invading your space as he mockingly orders: "Say it louder for me." 

And after you throw your little fit about how mean he's being, how he’s such a bully, Keigo finally feels emboldened to move onto the next phase. He makes you feel good until you're sobbing, expertly dragging climax after climax out of your body until you're so overstimulated you can barely speak and are lacking more than a few electrolytes. In which case, Keigo will make a point to laugh at your complaints. He'll say, "aww, I thought you liked coming? Aren't I being nice? Don't pout, I'm just giving you what you asked for!"

This is not so much a kink, but he likes the title daddy because of the trust, affection, and protective responsibility being 'daddy' implies. Assuming responsibility during sex feels like home to him; because for the first time in his life, he has a healthy outlet for those urges and instincts that have caused him so much trouble. He admits in canon to being desperate to be of use and help, after all— oh, and along that same vein, he loves to service top.

Keigo thinks the title "sir" is really cute too! But mostly, he treasures the nicknames and pet names you come up with for him. His names of "Keigo Takami" or "Hawks" have never felt stable for him growing up. So nicknames are nice, for a change.

And he has a mommy kink because of his mommy issues. You'll actually have to be very gentle about this because he absolutely does not recognize where it comes from at all.

- ̗۪۪̥̀৩ु˖❥ L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

In bed. Anywhere in his home, really— surfaces, the floor, cabinets somehow— but he especially prefers to take you in bed. It's not a nest thing, trust me (it totally is).

The way Keigo's quirk works isn't an actual animal quirk, so he's not literally a bird and his bed is not literally a nest. But he does possess a number of birdlike oddities, and this is one of them! 

He also just feels safe, secure, and at ease in his home (not the one from the commission, his actual home). Given his whole thing about his little roosting place in canon, it makes sense that the bedroom holds special significance to Keigo in particular.

Keigo bought you some blankets. He really, really hopes you like them. 

- ̗۪۪̥̀৩ु˖❥ M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Service. Pleasure and sensation is fantastic for him, he thrives in it, but eroticism is cognitive for him as well (or, ya know, lack of cognitive during dumbification). Don't get him wrong, a simple "woah!" and a popped half-chub from seeing you shirtless is still something that definitely happens, but he can be a complex man, too. He promises.

Most of all, Keigo is an observant sponge. He likes to watch, to study, to learn, to analyze, to perfect— like a cat confined in an enclosure given toys and apt time to chase and solve as a form of enrichment.

Sex is special and a bonding activity, but as much as he's a sucker for the plain old basics— the romantic part of it all— it's no surprise that Keigo gains a great deal of satisfaction from gently mapping the parts of your psyche that make you tick. And obviously, as Keigo is one for outcomes, just mapping you out isn't enough for him. 

He should be able to play with the fruits of his labor, too, no? The satisfying pop of your last brain cell has something of a Pavlovian effect for him. That's when the real fun of it begins. 

- ̗۪۪̥̀৩ु˖❥ N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Any heavy impact play. This is an absolute no from him. He doesn't want to do it with tools like flogs, whips, etc; but it's especially worse when it's his own hands. He can't exactly pinpoint why, though (poor birdie has a thing about his hands being dirty). For that matter, he dodges anything that would bring you more physical pain than, say, a firm tap. Keigo does enough of that at his job, he doesn't want to hurt his baby, too. 

A couple love taps on the cheek or thigh are the most you'll get, but the way he does it is more than enough to get your brain fuzzy. He's a biter and scratches a bit, though! So if you're into pain, this is where you'll find common ground.

Never call him filthy or dirty, or ever imply he is either of those things, even as a joke or to tease him. 

He's not a fan of choking, but specifically when he's the one doing it. Again, it reminds him of his job. He's okay being choked himself, though, since he believes he's perfectly capable of handling himself (and he's used to putting his life on the line, anyways).

- ̗۪۪̥̀৩ु˖❥ O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Most are familiar with the "Keigo-drowns-between-your-thighs-and-dies-happy" headcanon at this point, but the classics are classics for a reason. 

He prefers giving over receiving. It's not even close, honestly. Your orgasms against his tongue satisfy him more than his own— not that he won't be touching himself while he goes down on you. Because he absolutely will.

Rough day? He'll eat it from the back to cheer himself up. 

Good day? He tops it off with you on top of his face, of course.

Mediocre day? Fuck it, he's on his knees and his mouth is on you before his keys hit the table, anyways.

One of your fondest memories you recount to him endlessly (to his embarrassed chagrin) is a night you two were roleplaying in bed. The slippery fucker thought he was slick, tied to the bedpost as he attempted to— in character and in scene— subtly propose you sit on his face as a "punishment" in that pathetic little oh no, whatever will I do type of voice. 

His face flushed scarlet when you burst into laughter over him, breaking character and nearly busting a lung in the process. 

Oral? As punishment? For Keigo? Did he actually think you were going to buy that? Oh my god. You never let him live it down.

- ̗۪۪̥̀৩ु˖❥ P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Depends on his mood and yours. Oftentimes, you find yourselves synced and on similar wavelengths; but other times, as all couples inevitably see, there's a bit of a mismatch between sharp and smooth desires. On those nights, Keigo takes the liberty of defaulting to softness. 

He easily slows his pace when you tell him you want it syrupy and molten, regardless of how pent up he is. But more interestingly, Keigo is able to see when your "give it to me rough" doesn't reach your eyes. 

When you ask for rough sex with your hands clutching his tee shirt and a shaky look in your eye, that's when Keigo rolls up his sleeve and kisses you softly. If you pitch a fit, he'll shush it away. Both wrists are kissed, and both thighs are placed reverently on his shoulders. 

"Why are you doing that," you ask.

"Because I like you a whole lot, dummy," he answers, pecking a kiss on your tummy. "Let me show you how much?"

- ̗۪۪̥̀৩ु˖❥ Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

When it comes down to it, Keigo is a hero. His career comes first, so quickies are a delightful inevitability in this line of work. Given his particular gift for espionage and the equipment he carries to boot (feathers, baby), the chances of anyone catching him in the act are slim enough to slide under the door to the broom closet he's fucking your brains out in.

But make no mistake, just because Keigo can break you down quickly doesn't mean he prefers it. He'd much rather take you in his bed achingly, ironically slow for a man so beloved for his speed. He'd rather be meticulous with you, but he can't always get what he wants exactly when he wants it. Self control is unfortunately a thing he has to consider, he'd sigh.

He's still going down on you during quickies, though. No way in hell he'd deny himself that.

- ̗۪۪̥̀৩ु˖❥ R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Keigo is quite careful with you. He cradles you in his maws like fresh fruit fit to burst— sinking his canines just enough to pierce your skin and sample your juices, but never using enough pressure to cause you any tangible damage. He wouldn't want to hurt his baby, even if part of him does want to deconstruct you a little; just not in a destructive sense. His preferred method of breaking down is to coax out your moans the way a gardener coaxes the sprout of his very own harvest.

That being said, once Keigo becomes comfortable enough with you to let the guard dog in his heart rest in your lap, he is open to a surprising amount, sexually speaking. Whatever it is, he's clever enough to find a way to make it sexy— and if a certain kink or position doesn't work out as planned, he's grounded enough to remain confident you can both get a laugh out of it together, at least. 

You just get each other like that, you and him; and fuck, if that isn't the hottest thing in the world to him. 

He feels safe enough with you to treat your bed like a playground and a temple all at once. Keigo stops and considers his new life one night as he takes the BDSM test with you, sitting cross-legged on the floor with a mouth still spilling crumbs from that night's takeout. His chest hurts from laughing, his heart is fuller than his stomach; and for the first time in his life, another person feels like home to him.

- ̗۪۪̥̀৩ु˖❥ S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Multiple. Many. Numerous.

This is Keigo's forte, his wheelhouse, his territory. You're out of your mind if you think you can outlast this man, but it's cute of you to try.

Your attempts to keep your sorry little mind held together by willpower and duct tape for just a little while longer are absolutely adorable to him. He'll use that against you, too.

- ̗۪۪̥̀৩ु˖❥ T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Keigo doesn't own any toys— well, he didn't, before he met you. A few painful months after he realized it was actually you that made his heart beat, he buys a fleshlight to kind of, sort of, maybe pretend it's you. 

Disrespectful, yeah. He knows. But it's better than the alternative. He can't afford to get you mixed up into his life; and if fucking a chunk of silicone every couple of nights to unscramble the plague of you from his head and make it normal (it makes it worse) is the sacrifice Keigo has to make, then call him Japan's number one martyr, because he's going to wring his money's worth out of the damn thing (and his cock).

Once Keigo gets over that thinly-veiled form of self-sabotage, he buys a couple of toys to use on you, instead.

- ̗۪۪̥̀৩ु˖❥ U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Life's unfair, sweetheart.

That's what Keigo tells you, smile wide and gloved hands clasped behind his back as he encircles your bed.

He adores his handiwork, tied up, gagged, and stuffed in every orifice. He's not a sadist, he swears! He just wants to… Overwhelm you a little. It's fun! And it's not Keigo's fault, really, that he likes to play with his food.

Honestly, he's doing you a favor by teasing you to bits! You like it, don't you? All pouts and "please"s, but the moment he takes away that stimulation you nearly throw a fit (how adorable. Keigo adores his little brat.)

The only comfort granted to you is the sound of his voice, all buttery rich and familiar; but even that notion carries a caveat. The words he decides to spill aren't exactly fair. Condescending bits of praise he knows will get you to whimper for him just right, questions he knows you can't answer properly in this state…

Point is, Keigo will use every resource available to be unfair to you because he's the worst combination of perfectionist and pain in the fucking ass. If he doesn't edge you up to the damn millisecond before an orgasm, Keigo won't consider it a job well done; and a job insufficiently done is not a job done at all. He'll have to give it another go until he does it right. 

… And another, and another, for good measure.

- ̗۪۪̥̀৩ु˖❥ V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Keigo is loud. 

He's embarrassingly, heart-wrenchingly loud. The oh-god-did-I-leave-the-window-open kind of loud, especially when he subs. He's such a fucking baby about it; like he's crying for attention, for you. Poor thing. Whimpering, moaning, sniffling for attention like a puppy with its tail between its legs peeking from between a dog crate's bars.

Keigo never was one to hold himself back or keep his mouth shut— he's not the shy type, exactly— and you look like the type of person to be into that kind of shit, anyway, he'd attest later with an infuriating smile. 

Is he wrong? He rarely is. Bastard.

But regardless, Keigo tends to run his mouth. His voice is his most precious weapon to use against you when he's on top, too— sharper than any feather he's ever grown, that's for damn sure. His dirty talk reveals his silver tongue and charisma more than anything.

Keigo is a switch, but he enjoys the luxury of changing your mood quite quickly with his voice alone. He doesn't have to try hard at all to get you into subspace or domspace, really. All it takes is a "make me" to get you to be mean to him, a "please" to get you to pamper him, a "watch it" to get you to shrink, a "poor baby" to get you to melt.

He's not the only one that's well-trained, it seems.

- ̗۪۪̥̀৩ु˖❥ W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

His wings puff up a little when he cums. Like a Ghibli character, yeah.

When he's babbling while he gets a good lay, dick wet and balls deep into a real good fuck, Keigo's wings shudder from the shoulderblades to the wingtips. They flap a few times for good measure, uncontrolled with arousal. It's not like he couldn't suppress the instinct to do so. It's just that he knows it drives you wild to see him as authentic and raw as he wishes he could be. 

It's a little unconscious, but moving his wings during sex also entices your hands to play with them a little. You always did like to fidget, and what better way to peacock in front of his precious partner than to flap their favorite fidget toy within arm's reach? 

It's mutually beneficial, thank you very much. You get a little something to grip on to while he blows your back out, and Keigo gets to blow his load while you tug at an erogenous zone arguably more sensitive than his cock. 

It's a win-win.

- ̗۪۪̥̀৩ु˖❥ X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

The wishful thinking answer is that he is big but not like, ouch big, about 6 inches or so. HOWEVER, realistically, this is not the case. There is evidence to consider.

His pants are very baggy. This raises questions. Nobody wears pants that baggy at the crotch all the fucking time unless they are packing. He also carries a certain energy with him. BDE or whatever. So this bumps him up to about 6.5-7 inches as an estimate. But honestly, it's difficult to say! Because Keigo is also not particularly tall or anything.

It curves a bit upward when he's rock hard and it slaps against his stomach when he's on his back. Mostly smooth save for a few prominent veins. Nothing crazy, but enough to be visually appealing or trace if you want to. His dick is ever so slightly darker than the rest of him and a bit flushed, especially at the tip. The head is proportional/average and swells darker when he's hard or edged.

Huge breeder balls. They're sensitive, too. And he gives insane cumshots. Like, he cums a lot. A lot. His backshots are out of this world. Fat, sticky ropes. A gift for his breeding kink, truly. 

He has a very, very pretty dick. Like the kind you'd look at and go "wow, congrats man" and give him a firm handshake. The kind of dick you stick a little blue award ribbon that says "best in show" on and pop a confetti popper.

- ̗۪۪̥̀৩ु˖❥ Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Not very high at all, interestingly. It's pretty par for the course, for a man his age; if not a bit dampered at times by his constant business and overworked nature.

When Keigo gets into it, he gets into it, sure, but his drive isn't really on the higher side. It's more of an "on" and "off" switch that he has a pretty solid handle on. His cool head up top tends to trump the hot one between his legs. 

Well. You kind of throw a monkey wrench in that whole system, but that's okay. No, really, it's cool. He still is able to begrudgingly do the same old routine, this time through gritted teeth and with a head nearly thunked against the wall in agonized frustration.

When you send him racy pics before his afternoon patrol, it technically is possible for him to will his boner down and think of something else. And that is what he ultimately decides to do— just with a little footnote tucked away for later. 

He'll get you back. He always does.

- ̗۪۪̥̀৩ु˖❥ Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Eepy. Falls asleep on top of you, cradled like a teddy bear. Zzzzz.

#✒ writing #smut #🌶 spice #hawks x reader #keigo takami x reader #mha smut #bnha smut #minors dni

[d1xonss]

H EY could you possibly write a fic where the readers been on some heat the whole day just overall pissed, then there’s a fight outbreak in Alexandria and everyone crowding around & people calling Daryl so he comes, just to realise it’s his girl and he has to restrain her, pulling her away so she doesn’t continue beating the shit out of whoever and she’s MAD so he has to calm her down and gets her to just talk to him so he can help her. Just a thought yk 😛

Sticks and Stones

✧ Pairing : Daryl Dixon x Reader

✧ Era : Season 5

✧ Pronouns : she/her

✧ Genre : Fluff

✧ Word Count : 3k

AN ~ I like this idea a lot! Just the thought of Daryl helping her clean up and take care of her after something like this just makes me melt. ps- Sorry for the inactiveness lately, April has already been such a crazy month for me and I've sadly had little to no time to write. But I'll definitely start getting back on track soon. Hope you enjoy!

The weather was hot, sticky, and humid. Your hair was a frizzy mess, sticking up everywhere as you worked in the miserable weather. You were sweating in places you didn’t even think were possible to sweat from. Bottom line was, you were miserable.

The bad mood that was embedded in you only seemed to grow as the day dragged on longer and longer. It was bad enough that your group joined this new community in the first place, having to live with all of these complete strangers after everything you had been through with your family. But what seemed to make it even worse, was this community had some high expectations upon your arrival. The leader, Deanna, made it very clear that she wanted each and every one of you working like dogs in order to do your part just like everyone else.

Meanwhile her sons were sitting in their air conditioned houses without lifting a damn finger.

Though you didn’t mind putting in the work, in fact, that was all you did your whole life. You were never handed a damn thing, needing to learn to find your own way in life and work for everything you got instead of being spoiled rotten. But again, you didn���t mind. The only thing that bugged you was that there were clearly a few favorites that got special treatment. Though you weren’t just talking about Deanna’s sons.

For the past couple of days you had been scheduled to work with a small group of others that you tried to play nice with. And for the most part, they all seemed friendly enough, willing to pitch in and do the part they were told to complete. Everyone…except for this one bitch who seemed to love getting a rise out of you.

You didn’t know her name, you couldn’t be bothered to learn it. But that didn’t mean the urge for punching her in her stupid, fake ass face wasn’t growing the longer you were in the same vicinity. She didn’t do a damn thing other than tell every other person what to do. And she always seemed to make it her mission to get under your skin at least once a day to really add to your sour mood, really wanting to see how far she could push you. But you, of course, always did nothing. It’s not because you weren’t capable of defending yourself, but you knew even one screw up could get you, and possibly the rest of your family kicked out of here.

You didn’t want to take that chance. After all, this whole opportunity and hard work was the chance to prove that you were all worthy to stay within the thick, sturdy walls they had built. You didn’t want to screw it up for yourself, but you especially didn’t want to screw it up for anyone else. Which is why you kept to yourself for the most part, only smiling politely to the ones who showed you even an ounce of kindness as they passed by with a friendly greeting. Other than that your eyes just stayed down, in hopes that somehow the day would go by faster that way.

You and a few others were currently in the large garden that was placed practically directly in the middle of the community, instructed to pick the fruits and vegetables that were ripe enough to bring back to the pantry. The job was simple enough, knowing that when this last basket of yours was full, you would take everything back, wash them off, and place them in the right sections before finally heading back to your new home. You could practically hear the cool shower calling your name from all the way over here.

Though subconsciously, your gaze traveled up a few different times to keep an eye out for Daryl, seeing if he was maybe passing the area. You didn’t necessarily know the job he was given for the day, but what you did know was that it was hot as fuck outside. And seeing Daryl with his arms exposed, the signature leather vest, and sweat glistening off of him…the sight would surely make your day ten times better than how it was going.

But everytime you did a subtle scan, he was nowhere to be found, and you couldn’t help but sigh a bit dramatically as all you wanted was to take him home and use that last bit of energy you had left.

“Hey!”

You were snapped out of your lustful daze suddenly when you heard a familiar voice from the other end of the space, seeing the one blonde bitch who wouldn’t get off your back, her face scowling into a glare.

You raised your arms up from your slightly crouched position, “What?”

“I can see you slacking off from all the way over here, get back to work!” she called with her hands sassily on her hips.

You sent her a bitter smile before ducking your head back down in attempts to pull yourself together, “Oh, I’ll get back to work.” you spoke under your breath, “Work on shoving this foot up your ass.” you grumbled as you began picking a few more ripe strawberries.

A few minutes of peace passed, moving down the line as you scanned for any more things that were ready to be picked off the vine. Your small basket sat by your feet as it was nearly filled to the brim with the amount of fruit you collected over the past hour or so. That is…until it wasn’t.

Out of the corner of your eye you could see someone’s shadow coming from your left as whoever it was seemed to just be passing by. But the sound of their foot coming in contact with the wooden basket right beside you is what caused your gaze to snap up, already knowing who the hell it was. Her blonde hair blowing behind her as she didn’t even stop to look at the mess she made was kind of a dead giveaway.

You shot up to your feet as annoyance began to quickly overtake you, causing you to open your mouth before you even got a chance to think twice. “What the fuck?” you called after her.

She turned around on instinct, as if she was expecting you to say something, a small smirk on her face as she shrugged. “What?”

You pressed your lips together as your annoyance grew, stepping up closer to her so you could keep the conversation quiet, “What the hell is your problem? You don’t think I can tell you’re doing this shit on purpose?”

“Oh I know you can.” she said with a bitchy tilt of her head, her arms coming to cross over her chest, “I’m just wondering when the fuck you’re going to get a clue.”

“Well, why don’t you just spell it out for me, because I’m getting pretty tired of dealing with the same bullshit from you.” you stated bluntly.

She scoffed, “You and your grubby little group don’t belong here.” she spat harshly, “None of you are what we need for this community, in fact, you’re only tearing us down. I don’t even know why Deanna let you people in here in the first place.”

Her words caused your eyebrows to fly up in utter surprise. You expected her to attack you, shoot insults directed toward you. But you never expected in a million years that she would have the audacity to go after your family the way she did with little to no reason at all. 

And in the end, that’s what pushed you over the edge as you laughed at her, not needing to come up with a single response as you had a few other things in mind.

Daryl was on the other end of the community, patrolling around the streets when he heard the sudden commotion. At first he couldn’t quite pinpoint what was going down, only seeing a swarm of people flooding toward one area where lots of shouts and panicked voices were coming from. Curiosity eventually got the better of him as his brows furrowed in confusion, his pace picking up as he approached the gardens, opening the white gates to step inside.

His eyes squinted as he could tell there was some sort of fight breaking out, the people surrounding them either cheering them on, or trying to rip them apart. He leaned from side to side, trying to see who was in the middle of it all as he silently prayed he was wrong about what he originally assumed. But then there was a small parting in the crowd, allowing him to catch a glimpse in between them, and his face dropped.

Some random guy was holding you back as you attempted to hit the blonde girl at the other end of the circle they created, clawing out of his grip every so often to get another swing in while she cried. Daryl then didn’t waste another second, harshly shoving his way through the crowd to get to you in attempts to stop you from doing anymore damage. It was almost like he couldn’t get to you fast enough, either that, or you were just quick when it came to nearly tearing her head off.

“Hey!” he shouted once he was close enough, pulling you out of the man’s grasp in attempts to hold you back himself, “Stop!”

You hardly even heard his voice, your ears ringing as you continued to try and pry his hands off of you, desperately trying to swing again as the woman sobbed. Her nose bloody and a bruise forming on her right cheek. She clearly couldn’t fight for shit considering she had such a big mouth.

Daryl groaned as he yanked you back harshly, “Damnit (Y/N), I said stop!” he shouted once more, his voice enough to silence everyone in an instant.

The familiar voice then finally registered with you as well, whipping your head around quickly to see him, smoke nearly coming out of his ears. Your face softened as you instantly came to the realization of the damage you just caused, the potential outcome of your actions suddenly terrifying you.

Your head shook slightly as you tried to speak, “I-”

“Get back to the house.”

His tone was firm, but somehow still held a bit of gentleness. You sighed as you took yourself out of his hold, not needing to be told twice as you slowly began to walk out of the crowded area. Now seeing the amount of people that witnessed your meltdown, you suddenly wanted to crawl into a hole and die, feeling all their watchful eyes on you as Daryl quickly ushered you the rest of the way out. The last thing you barely caught a glimpse of, was a few others crowding around the blonde as she continued to cry her eyes out with her beaten face.

There wasn’t a single word spoken between the two of you. Just silence. And it was killing you.

He didn’t utter a word, only gesturing you into the bathroom for you to sit at the edge of the tub, before pulling out a first aid kid from the closet. Your brows furrowed in confusion as she hadn’t laid a hand on you, but then your eyes traveled down to your own hands, seeing how cut up and bloody they were. The pain hadn’t even registered to you, you hardly felt the sting at all as if your adrenaline was still pumping fast through your system.

Daryl wordlessly kneeled down in front of you, taking your hands with such softness in his touch as he cleaned you up with precision. You could tell he was trying to be as careful as he could, despite the fact that he was probably upset. Hell, the whole group would probably be upset with you for a while, over something that you could now never take back. Something that you could never undo. All because you couldn’t keep your head on straight.

You were forced to think about it even more as the silence only lingered, playing the imagines back over and over again in your mind. You wanted to say it was worth it, to see her actually get somewhat of a taste of her own bitter medicine, knowing now she would probably never fuck with you again. But the fate of the future, what would come next, still weighed heavily on you as it was clearly unknown.

You then sighed softly as you looked down at him, “I…I’m sorry.” your voice spoke barely above a whisper.

He nodded as he kept his eyes down, finishing up your left hand as he wrapped it in some bandages, “I know ya are.”

“You don’t know the things she was saying…what she’s been doing ever since we fucking got here. God…I know I shouldn’t have taken it that far, but that bitch got what she deserves, trust me.” you spoke bitterly, trying to convince yourself more than you were trying to convince him.

Daryl’s eyes then glanced up to you, a small smile on his lips as he nodded again, “I know.”

Your brows furrowed in both confusion and surprise, “You’re…you’re not mad?”

“Why would I be mad?” he asked, his voice a lot more gentle than it was before. But then again you could only assume it was all just the heat of the moment.

You shook your head softly, “I don’t know…” you muttered, glancing down to your hands as you slightly examined them, mostly to avoid his eyes as you knew he would be able to see right through you.

And he did. His brows furrowed as a few seconds of silence passed before he spoke again, “Yeah ya do. You just don’t wanna say it.”

A heavy sigh passed through your lips as you looked back up at him, “I just…I know that doing that was a big mistake.”

His eyes softened as he heard the timidness in your tone, “Everyone makes mistakes, sweetheart.” he said as he raised his hand to tuck some hair behind your ear, “It’s alright.”

“No…that’s not what I mean.” you said with a shake of your head, “I…I fucked up…I fucked up everything. Once Deanna finds out what happened, once she finds out that we can’t work with her people, she’ll kick us out. And then we’ll be back on the road without any food, or water, or anything. We barely made it last time, I-”

“Hey.” Daryl interrupted you softly, raising his hands to gently grip your forearms, “What are ya talkin about? None of that’s gonna happen.”

“But she’s already weary of us, we’re the big, scary outside people. The second she realizes that we won’t be able to fit in here, there’s no way she’ll let us stay.”

The man in front of you couldn’t help but smirk, which at first confused you, but then you found yourself rolling your eyes. “The big, scary outside people?” he repeated with a light chuckle.

You gave him a pointed look, “This is serious.”

“I know, I know.” he assured, “But I also know you’ve been bustin yer ass damn near everyday tryin to prove that you can be trusted here. That we can be trusted here. So…I think right now, you just need to take a second and breathe…okay?”

You stared at him for a moment before swallowing a bit thickly and nodding your head, taking a deep breath in attempts to calm your nerves. It felt like your brain was scattered all over the place and you knew he was right in saying that you just needed to fucking chill out for a second. You still had your worries about the outcome, but for some reason the longer you looked at the man sitting in front of you, the more those thoughts started to disappear.

After a few moments of silence, you felt him gently squeeze your arms again as he hadn’t taken his eyes off of you, “Ya got pretty worked up back there, killer. And I don’t think this stress and worryin is helpin. We’re here for a reason…to have a fighting chance. And you just gotta trust that over time, everythin’s just gonna work itself out…no matter what.”

He was so confident in his words, it made you want to feel confident too. It made you want to believe that this would all pass, and you didn’t completely screw up this opportunity like you assumed. Though there was still something else on your mind.

“But what about the fight? I mean…I messed her up pretty bad.” 

He simply shrugged, “Good.”

Your eyebrows raised in slight shock, “What?”

“That bitch got what was coming to her. Truth is, ever since ya told me about what’s been goin on, I’ve been dyin for ya to knock some damn sense into her. If anything, I wanted to cheer you on.” he winked.

You couldn’t help but laugh, “Well, you always have been my biggest supporter…” you trailed off as you looked down toward your hands again, “And the best doctor around.”

He hummed with a small smile before grasping your hands gently, raising them up to his mouth to leave a few kisses on the back of your bandaged knuckles as if to seal the healing process.

You smiled a little to yourself at his actions, “So…you really think we’ll be okay?”

“We’ll be just fine.” he muttered as he placed one final kiss on your skin, “It’ll breeze over, people will move on. Cause I think they all kinda know she was the problem to begin with.”

“God, I hope so.” you scoffed, “And even though I kinda lost it…it felt good.” you admitted almost a bit sheepishly.

He chuckled as he pulled at your hands a little, helping you stand back up to your feet as he did, “Looked pretty good too.” he confirmed as he held you close, placing a kiss on top of your head. “I think you could use some kinda award for doin that.”

You smirked as you looked up at him, “Well…I could use a massage.”

He smiled right back at you as he nodded, “Done.”

~ Thanks for reading!

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon the walking dead #daryl dixon x oc #daryl dixon twd #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x original character #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x reader #the walking dead #the walking dead imagine #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead daryl #twd daryl dixon #daryl twd #twd daryl #twd fanfiction #twd #norman reedus #norman reedus fanfiction #norman reedus x reader

[bigfatbimbo]

I am haunted by visions of Vox with a capable assistant who doms him after hours. The role reversal of guy thinking he can fuck his secretary but she turns the tables and fucks him has me sweating

I got inspired by a turn of phrase that would might have been popular a little bit before Vox’s time “his girl, Friday”

Basically a “girl Friday” was a term used for a woman in the office who acted as a jack of all trades and was good at doing a bunch of different jobs. This person was usually very capable and the office’s go-to-girl for anything and everything

So I keep imagining Vox with this hyper-competent assistant. He hires her and after becoming familiar with the company, she manages to handle things before he even asks her to do them. He decides to try and rattle her a bit with impossible tasks to knock her down a peg, but she takes that as a challenge and somehow completes them with a smarmy “will that be all,sir”

Game on. He keeps challenging her and asking for crazier shit just to prove that she can be shaken. She doesn’t even flinch, it’s a little intimidating and bruises his ego

Eventually he’s working late (which means she’s working late because somehow their work ethics are equally insane) and he starts being all snide and pissy and she just puts him in his place, insulting his behavior and his temper and physically backs him into his desk before telling him that he needs to be taught proper manners

And from then on, by day she’s Vox’s right hand who never leaves his side. But by night she bends her boss over his desk or presses him into his office chair, making him whimper and moan as she teaches him a lesson and berates him

So yeah, boss tries to dominate assistant but she effortlessly reverses their roles and makes him cry “Yes, ma’am!”

People think he’s tapping his assistant but whenever comments are made they share a look and Vox just thinks “they can’t ever know that I call you Mommy”

So the other day, I posted about wanting to do a human Vox au but lacking ideas, and one of the comments was involving an assistant x boss type deal. I don’t know if this ask is unrelated or directly caused by that post, but it gives me lots of ideas for a more specific au involving human Vox.

Anyways, since it wasn’t specified, i’ll keep the alive or dead details pretty vague. When I tell you this idea has been rotting in my brain all day, I fucking mean it.

Like this is genuinely about to get me out of writers block oh my fucking god. “His girl, friday” is a term i’ve never heard before but it’s so fitting with this. I love the go-getter incredibly efficient reader so much.

And god, it would bother Vox to an ungodly point. Because being in close quarters a lot, you being his assistant, of course he picks up on your efficiency. It makes him a little insecure because you honestly get things done quicker than he could.

So after throwing everything he can at you to knock you overboard your parade of orderliness, and you doing it all absolutely flawlessly, he can’t help but throw one of his tantrums.

Coming to him at the the end of the day, explaining you did everything he’d asked, and went beyond, closed multiple business deals for him, and got the inside information on upcoming possible marketing events. He should be happy, this objectively helps his business. But instead, he sits at his desk, watching you from across the room, before absolutely exploding.

I mean, you do his jobs better than he does. And he goes on a huge rant about how he doesn’t believe this, and how you must have absolutely no life, and basically degrading and insulting you for doing your job correctly.

And then yes, you yell at him, practically daring him to fire you. He won’t, you’re too much of an asset. You’re basically untouchable. So with that, you yell back, but unlike Vox who erupted with rage, you keep yourself as level headed as possible while talking sternly. Make even talking to him condescending as of talking to a child, explaining how it’s absolutely unbelievable he’s throwing a fit over good work ethic, and how he’d have to be out of his mind to pout about something so beneficial for Voxtech.

Going on and on about how his competitive, aggressive, targeting work behavior is unacceptable and pathetic… and now you have him back up against his desk, his sneer turning into a look of astonishment.

And then his eyes dart down, heat rising to his cheeks, and you notice the bulge in his pants. At first, you go silent, but then tease him with “You want me to take care of that too? Or will you yell at me for being too good at my job.”

Well, then he’s mad again. Probably definitely a struggle for power the first time you fuck. Yes, he tries to dom you, and fails because jesus, he really was pathetic. But you have him lied back in his chair, pinning his wrists down to either side of him, while you ride his dick into overstimulation. But he’s trying to keep quiet so no one else is the office hears his whimpers and whines.

But when he gets too loud, simply remind him that you’ll have to stop and he responds with a watery, whimper of “Y-yes ma’am.”

Now, fridays are dedicated to his girl, friday. Coincidentally, you’re both working late on those days, and even more coincidentally, you have business in his office.

That business being bending Vox over his desk until he has to cover his pathetic sobs with his hand so a janitor doesn’t hear him crying for his mommy.

Anyways, I’m almost done. I think this specifically appeals to me in a human Vox au sense because i’m hell, a work place of hell wouldn’t be particularly normalized, but it’s hell so it’s absolutely not frowned upon. He’d probably get teased about it at best, and literally a high five for tapping that. But in a human au, the stakes are much higher because there’s an actual sense of ethics and morals in business.

Also in the fifties, do you even know how taboo it would be for a boss to not only be sleeping with his assistant, but getting dominated by her every night???? I dunno.

Oh and the toxic masculinity of it all because it’s the 1950s and without being exposed to the normalization of kinks in hell, it would be so hard to break this brat down. Obviously not impossible, it’s Vox. But so much more irritating.

However, i’m hesitant to actually do a human au literally because of the silly picture I always put at the beginning. Because like I have such a specific image of what he looks like in my head (the @//notherpuppet human design) but… I don’t want to have to DM an artist and be like “Hey! love the art, can I use it for my dom reader power dynamic assistant x boss Vox x reader human au fic 😁😁😁🙏🙏” LIKE GANG I CANNOT.

Anyways, this wasn’t proofread, rant over, bimbo out.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel smut #dom reader #vox x reader #inbox open #sub vox

[darby-rowe]

keep thinking about university coryo and reader who are both very very smart, so they fucking love it when the other becomes pussy/cock drunk because it's the only time they're dumb as hell

i imagine it happens a lot whenever they're studying or something, basically situations where they're supposed to be using their brains and being productive...but they get distracted so easily, and they think it's funny to keep talking because they know damn well the other person is too wrecked to respond properly:

reader smirking down at coryo while she rides him because his eyes are completely glazed over and he can barely speak without stuttering...

coryo making snide comments to reader while he fucks her because she can't focus or answer any of his questions...

shit like "aren't there any thoughts in that pretty head of yours?" and "look at you, top student and can't even keep your eyes open" gets thrown around a lot

are you seeing my vision????

i see you… i hear you… and i love you

18+ | nsfw | mdni

cw fem!reader

thinking about a fwb situation with extremely smart and capable coriolanus snow that starts out as a harmless rivalry then snowballs into something so much more (and sexier).

and i’m thinking like you’re the best pussy this man has ever had the pleasure of fucking. so when you’re riding him, his perfectly groomed hair all messy from being too fucked out, the rings on his fingers pressing into the flesh of your hips… fuck, it feels so fucking good: the feeling of his cock throbbing inside you and to be in control.

“what’s that?” you ask mockingly, voice out of breath from working your hips. “can’t hear you. you’re not making sense, coryo. i — fuck — asked you a question,”

then reversing the roles, where coryo is piston-fucking his cock inside you, pinning down your arms as he uses you to get himself off and to dumb you down. your pretty eyes have already become so glassy, no thoughts in your head except his rock-hard cock and how it’s hitting that spot inside you so damn good.

“aw, little bunny can’t talk?” he taunts, grabbing your jaw and digging his fingertips into your face. “no thoughts inside that pretty head of yours? mmm, top student and you can barely form a thought, huh?”

#☽｡⋆ dally’s asks; #♡; dally writes! #oh today was such a busy day at work and i fucking needed this #gonna file through a few more asks tonight :) #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow fanfiction #tbosas

[adelheidvonschicksal]

Megumi falling in love for the first time?

Attempts at Friendship are Unappreciated

Synopsis: Megumi doesn’t have a need for friends, let alone a lover. But upon getting his first crush, he learns some new things about himself, like maybe he cares more than he thinks.

pairing: Megumi Fushiguro x GN!Reader

content warning: SFW, potential friends to lovers, Megumi sorting out his feelings sort of stuff because cynical, overthinker Megumi is my favorite Megumi.

If you were to ask Megumi, he didn’t have any need for friends. And he has been asked before by people like Gojo and his sister. The answer was always the same. He prefers being alone. People were too complicated. Too selfish. Too good. Too everything, really. And he was, well, himself.

Even after arriving at Jujutsu High, it’s still unnerving to him to have someone talk to him so earnestly, like his eyes weren’t permanently fixed with irritation, like he wasn’t constantly avoiding others, like he didn’t wear indifference like a new fur coat in the height of winter.

Itadori was an unexpected exception. An outburst of emotion intravenously linked him to the other boy, the golden strings of their destinies twined and knotted together on Fate’s spinning wheel.

You, on the other hand, have no reason to befriend him. He’s never had anything to offer others in return for their company, which never bothered him until he met you.

Megumi questioned what it was about you that allows you to get so close. So, he lets you talk, chattering his ear off in the covered walkway hosting the vending machines.

He studies you inch by inch, searching for something in the bright expression on your face and the crinkle of your eyes when you smile; he still doesn’t know exactly what he’s looking for. Your motive – the reason for wanting to talk to someone like him?

“What’s your favorite color?” you ask.

“I don’t have one.”

It may sound like a rude dismissal of your question but it's the truth, the painfully boring truth. He’s never put much thought into trivial things like that. The fact settles heavily in his stomach and rings hollow in his chest like when his sister said he’d never learn to make friends if he didn’t put himself out there.

Back then, Megumi pretended not to have heard her. In truth, it bothered him when she said it, only for the feeling to quickly fade away before he even left school that day. That strange void he felt back then always seems to resurface at the worst of times.

“Would you say that you like black or silver better? How about blue?”

Megumi looks down and plays with the tab on his orange juice can, avoiding the thing about you that makes him want to hear you talk. Megumi has no need for friends. Attempts at friendship aren’t appreciated.

“They’re all fine,” he grumbles out. It’s the maximum he allows.

Megumi doesn’t have a type. It’s another one of those trivial things he’s never bothered to think about until his head was literally cracked through the pavement.

He knows all about types though, and he knows as much as he cares about romance from the bad to the good. Sweaty palms, blushing faces, pounding hearts were all reoccuring themes in his books.

Megumi never thought he’d have romantic feelings for anyone, no matter how fleeting. He reckons he isn’t capable of it. He just isn’t wired that way.

It’s comforting in a sense. It means he didn’t have to worry about attachments. Sure, he loves his sister, and Gojo, well, he cares for his benefactor, but he’s never considered the older man someone he felt okay investing all his feelings into. People his own age were complicated enough; adults were worse, his father was worse; the little he remembers anyway.

When he thinks about the way he met Gojo who too conveniently saved him from the Zen’in clan in exchange for becoming his student, it’s hard for him to let his trust flow purely even after all this time; even when Gojo took it upon himself to do Megumi favors like putting Itadori's room right next door (another thing Megumi didn't appreciate).

Megumi blames his long-seated resentment for the reason his heart starts to work overtime the day you present friendship bracelets to everyone. They’re fancy; many steps above the cheap kind that you’d find at some discount convenience store with plastic alphabets and random beads and symbols. He assumes a couple of the pieces might be real.

Kugisaki’s is green, shining on her wrist like emeralds. Megumi thinks it suits someone like Kugisaki, who would undoubtedly love to be covered in jewels. Itadori has a similar one, rotating with a pattern of red and opaque white pieces.

Standing in that hall, drowning out the conversation between Kugisaki and Itadori about who has the prettier bracelet, Megumi realizes he’s next.

It starts when you step in front of him; there’s a cautious tone to your voice when you say his name because you already know: attempts at friendship aren’t appreciated.

It's with a roll of anxiousness, the one that always comes with the mystery of whether his exchange with someone will be positive or negative and the skeptic thought in his head that reminds him most people always want something in return, that makes him throw up a wall.

“These probably aren’t your thing but I made one for you too,” you preface. “I hope you like it. I wasn’t really sure what to put on it so I made some guesses.”

You’re right. Friendship bracelets aren’t his thing; needing a token like a bracelet to prove your relationship to someone is asinine. It’s against what is supposed to make a friendship special. Strong friendships should need no words, right?

Most importantly, he doesn’t need it, and there’s no reason for you to give him one.

“You keep it,” he starts. However, it’s already too late as you grab his arm and slide the trinket over his hand.

“I don’t—” he starts again; there’s a bit of surprise in the way you look at him, the way everyone stops and looks at him actually. This quickly becomes one of those times where it’d be easier to go with the flow than to fight the current. “Fine.” He clears his throat. “Only because you already made it,” he explains more fully, stifling the embarrassment that wants to bubble from his chest with so much attention.

Like before, he finds himself too focused on watching you, the way your eyes soften from surprise and rejection to shining stars. He thinks this must be how the protagonists in those books feel when heat creeps up their neck. Those books also left him sorely unprepared that it would go past neck to his face and ears.

He breaks away from the situation, finding a way to retreat into the background to shield himself from the gooey feeling permeating the air. He drops his gaze to his arm, focusing on the bracelet with his name accompanied by a repetition of blue and silver, connecting the two—four—of you together.

Megumi fixes his sleeve over the bracelet, but he can’t hide how painfully aware he is of the charms rolling against his skin.

It was both a pleasant feeling and completely alien.

It broke.

Megumi was a bit reckless against a low-level curse, and it broke. He didn’t even realize it until after the battle was over and one of the silver charms were rolling under his foot.

It shouldn’t have been a big deal. It was bound to happen eventually considering this line of work. Yet, he still picked up the few pieces he could separate from the gravel, and the entire ride home his wrist feels unreasonably bare.

Thinking about how he messed up makes him annoyed at himself, especially when he wonders what you’d think if you noticed he wasn’t wearing it. You’d probably think he tossed it somewhere; that he didn’t like it. He liked it. The same way he likes to listen to you talk on car rides home after missions or when you ask him to hang out with you and the others or when you read all the books he recommends with the protagonists that are quickly becoming too relatable with every skipped heartbeat and tongue-tied word. He’s frustrated to acknowledge why that’s the case.

It’s only been three months since the start of the school year, he thinks. It took only three months for his thoughts to start drifting to his classmates, with you almost always center stage in them.

When he arrives back at the school, he finds your room and knocks on your door. He shows you what little remains of the gift you gave him, as if he needs to immediately absolve himself of any wrongdoing.

“Do you want me to make you another one?” you ask cautiously.

Megumi can guess why you’re hesitant considering he only accepted your gift because of peer pressure. He still believes gifts like this are silly and unnecessary.

But…

“If you wouldn’t mind.”

He wants it.

So, he goes into your room where he watches you begin the process of making him another bracelet. You ask him which accessories he would prefer, and like always he doesn’t have much preference other than what you think is best. As long as it isn’t too silly, of course.

He gives his undivided attention to how your fingertips pour over your work kit and the many square boxes filled with different miniature shapes before you carefully pick out one with a little dog face.

“I think this one is good,” you whisper to yourself before continuing your search for another complementing bead.

You smile as you work. It’s nice. Cute even as you bite down on your lip in concentration; and right now, he isn’t quite sure what to do with that information other than note the way it makes his palms feel clammy especially when he notices your eyes lift back up to his.

Megumi notices a lot about you actually. He notices how you always go out your way to get his, well, everyone’s opinion on everything. He notices that whenever you share your snacks with everyone that you always save ginger for him. He notices how your gaze lingers on him when you ask if everyone is in one piece after difficult missions. He also notices how your finger stops over a silver square, one with a little black heart carved in each side. He wonders, perhaps too hopefully, if the charm is just one you think he’d like or if it means more than that.

“Why do you always keep trying to talk to me?” he asks, fighting the urge to beg you to stop getting stuck in his mind so much.

Your head snaps up from what you’re doing.

“What do you mean? We’re teammates,” you answer simply.

“Aren’t missions enough? We don’t need to interact aside from that.”

You pinch your eyebrows at him, and there’s a frown on your face. “Sure we do.”

“There’s no reason.”

It’s not like he ever saved your life, not like Itadori. It’s not like he has a somewhat familial relationship with you, like Gojo. You’re not his sibling or his parent; he’s not the friendlist either so there’s no reason to try to get closer any more than necessary, and there’s no reason for him to be feeling so nervous right now.

“How about because I like talking to you? I think you’re pretty funny, and you’re a kind person.” You shake your head, laughing. “I don’t know. I just like being friends with you.”

Megumi doesn’t know what he was expecting. Some deep explanation why you keep trying to get close to him? Some selfish excuse from you that he could use to warrant pushing you away. A reason to justify why he likes you so much? A reason to hope you like him just as much?

Maybe.

There doesn’t need to be some special reason for you wanting to be his friend, which means he doesn’t really need a reason either.

“I see.”

“Finished,” you say, holding out his newly made bracelet to him. “I poured some of my cursed energy into it, so it won’t break so easily next time.”

Megumi feels calm once again when he feels the weight and roll of the beads on his skin again; the aura of your curse energy humming through it makes the connection back to you much more noticeable.

“What about me?” you ask, drawing his attention. “Do you like being friends with me?”

Megumi can’t answer that, not because he doesn’t have an answer, but because he feels like his tongue weighs more than lead as you lean closer into him.

His eyes find your lips, soft and parted. This is the first time he’s gotten the urge to kiss someone. It makes his stomach whirlwind, and he quickly finds a way to answer you without having to look at you as he picks at one of the charms.

“Can I make you one?”

The next morning, Megumi decides to go out with you and the others for breakfast, which in hindsight was a mistake as Itadori points out the new accesory you’re wearing on your wrist.

“Hey, you got one too now.”

You smile, holding it up proudly. “Megumi made it for me!”

“Megumi?!” Itadori blurts out.

“Made it for you?” Nobara asks with raised eyebrows and a hand on her hip.

“He did a really good job.”

It’s like the time before when you first gave them their gifts, and everyone is looking at him again. “I didn’t do anything special; a monkey could do it,” he mumbles out.

Itadori is the first to crack a laugh followed by Kugisaki. Then, the two of them start muttering and teasing him in unison.

“He’s so modest,” Itadori points out.

“Loverboy,” Kugisaki whispers.

“Can we call you Megumi too?” Itadori asks.

Megumi doesn’t have the patience to consider whether the other boy is being genuine or not as he grits his teeth and growls out a quick “shut up” before konking Itadori on the head to prove his point. It’s enough to make them leave him alone for now as Itadori accidentally trips into Kugisaki from the force.

“That was completely unnecessary, Fushiguro,” Kugisaki grumbles as she pushes Itadori off and stands back to her feet.

Megumi sighs.

This is why he doesn’t want friends.

“Did you just sigh at me!”

“If that’s what you heard,” he tells her.

“You better sleep with both eyes open!”

“I’ll be sure to do that.”

Yet if it’s those two then he guesses having friends isn’t completely unbareable.

Suddenly, Megumi loses focus at the timbre of your laugh.

“You guys are starting early today.”

You’re still laughing at them, harder now actually, and it’s precious. He throws his gaze to the wall as if he’s ignoring Kugisaki and not trying to hide the heat blooming on his cheeks when you glance at him, making him aware that he’s the reason for your laughter.

Megumi shoves his hands in his pockets and rolls his thumb over the bracelet and the heart you left behind there.

Friendship is something he’s coming around to. Having a crush for the first time, well, he still needs work on figuring that out. 

#megumi fluff #megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader

[ancuninfiles]

Comfort pt.2

Screenshots by @astarionposting

Words 4.9K - M/F - Astarion X F! Tav - 18+

Once again, a big ole thanks to @gelican-gelicant Gelican AO3 for beta-reading tf out of this bitch. Shoutout, check 'em out.

Summary: Taking place the morning after their first night together, Tav and Astarion explore one another further before leaving their tented refuge to greet their campmates.

Tags: smut and fluff, oral sex (male receiving), Tav is autism-coded, p in v sex, creampie, cumplay, porn with plot, jealous Astarion (of Gale)

(Read chapter 1 first)

Read on AO3 (recommended)

In the early hours of the morning, the sounds of birds singing and the Chionthar babbling filled the camp. The sky was amber, and dew formed in small droplets on each blade of grass.

The light scattered through the fabric walls of Astarion's burgundy tent, causing the light within to emanate brilliant hues of vermillion. 

Within the ruby veil lay Astarion and Tav, their arms and legs interlocking like a fleshy chain as they faced one another. The tent was tepid and humid with breath. 

Tav was the first to open her eyes. She blinked into lucidity and witnessed the trancing elf before her. He looked like a deva, his skin was so fair that it seemed to glow under the red ambience. 

Tav unlaced an arm from him, instead reaching out to caress his cheek with the backs of her fingers, and his eyes fluttered open. He watched her as she felt the skin on his cheek, then closed his eyes and leaned into her touch. 

Less than a day ago, he had woken up within the walls of Cazador’s kennels, and upon opening his eyes in the morning, he half expected to find himself there again, the last twenty-four hours having been an impossible dream. 

Astarion's skin felt soft under the pad of Tav’s thumb as she admiringly took in his plush lips, and the way his eyes gleamed a gorgeous shade of crimson. 

As Astarion lay peacefully under her gaze, Tav noted that he was cute - unbelievably so, even more than any cat, which his attitude was reminiscent of.

Tav looked Astarion up and down, her image of him unrestricted by the blankets which had come off at some point during the night, leaving them laying in complete nudity, dovetailing calves and feet.

Tav’s eyes danced lower to Astarion’s waist, then paused to rest on his fully erect length. Despite her limited knowledge of the vampyr, the sight of his morning wood still came as somewhat of a surprise - antithetical to what she knew of the classic vampire’s low blood levels, and weak heartbeat. Perhaps it was her blood that rushed through him now?

Astarion watched raptly as Tav’s face changed shades, as her gaze focused on his hardening cock. Surely, as a wood elf, she wouldn’t be faxed by his sunrise salute?

Tav's eyes were wide as they trailed back up to Astarion's face. "I can help you with that."

Astarion smiled. “Oh, don’t you worry. It’ll solve itself eventually.” Tav’s offer only made his girth grow larger, but he knew what it meant to be expected to fulfill someone’s sexual desires out of obligation - and it was not a pressure he felt capable of burdening others with.

“I want to help you, Astarion.” She wore a serious expression. “It would be an honour.”

Tav’s blood rushed to his cheeks and his length. ‘An honour? Gods. This little druid speaks to me as if I am some sort of deity.’ 

He was desperate to hold his composure, but his cock throbbed with want, and, Tav’s earnest stare only further challenged his resolve.

At this moment, he wanted nothing but to lose himself in Tav all over again. To disappear into transient bliss, for however long his body would let him.

Tav unbound their bodies sensually, shimmying herself lower until her head was level with his chest, her left hand resting on his right arm. “Do you want me to taste you, my love?” Her eyes sought his, pleading.

A tight need within his lower abdomen abruptly overcame Astarion. ‘Taste you?’ This couldn’t be. Surely he had died and was being pursued by some ethereal nymph of Mount Celestia. He couldn’t recall the last time someone had offered to taste him; within Cazador’s clutch, it simply did not happen. He was granted eternal life specifically to serve his vampire lord by delivering victims, and most of the time that included fucking them or being fucked by them, and in neither scenario, was he ever a truly willing participant, nor were his needs ever the ones being catered to. 

His cock twitched, a bead of precum beginning to leak from its tip. He choked back a whimper, screwing up his face in repressed pleasure as Tav gazed into his eyes, slowly wriggling herself lower and lower. Expressing his current desire felt like an impossible climb to the summit of a mountain blanketed in ice and snow.

Tav bore witness as Astarion melted into a puddle of yearning, starkly unlike how he had been the previous night - so forthcoming, and vocal. Could it be that he simply wanted it so bad that he didn’t know how to express it? 

Doubt clouded her face then, and she hesitated before continuing, wondering at the cause of his reticence. Does he think he’ll hurt me? Or is he simply lost for words?

Tav paused her descent to say, “It’s not out of worry that I wish to taste you, but out of affection. I’ve spent a mere day in your presence and, despite our tragedy . . . find comfort in it. You make me feel safe, and I want to be connected with you. I want to know you, and to be known by you. I can tell you this most assuredly.” Tav spoke confidently. “But I wish for you to assure me. Please, Astarion. Tell me what you truly desire.”

“You - you want to?” Astarion gazed down at her as his eyebrows canted upwards in a deep, worrisome frown. He reached a trembling hand down to gently cup her cheek with his palm, his thumb tracing her cheekbone fondly. 

“Mhm,” she nodded, smiling endearingly. 

As a result of Tav’s speech, Astarion gathered the resolve to confess his wants, which were warping into needs as his cock began to throb painfully with passion.

Astarion choked out a moan as he began to speak. “I want to fuck your pretty mouth,” he groaned needily.

“Mmm, I can’t wait to taste your cum.” 

Astarion groaned through gritted teeth at Tav’s lewd words.

Tav languidly ran her left hand down his torso, stopping at his pelvis, gently nudging him onto his back before climbing atop his legs, positioning her face over his swollen member. Her right hand came up to grasp the base of his shaft and her tongue grazed his slit. 

Astarion groaned loudly enough that if anyone had been by the fire, they surely would have heard him. He reached his right hand up to fist her hair. It took everything within him not to shove his cock to the very depths of her wanting mouth and have her drooling and gagging until her face went red. 

She placed her lips around his tip and swirled her tongue, wanting to take her time tasting every inch of his beautiful cock. He tasted delicious. His flavour was lascivious and salty. She wanted more of his cock in her mouth and she wasn’t sure if she would be able to continue her teasing for much longer.

Tav lowered her head down onto his length. His cock made contact with her tongue, cheeks, lips, and the roof of her mouth. 

The sensory overload of the scene made her head go numb, from the feeling of his hand in her hair while she sucked on him, to her overwhelming desire to feel her lips at the base of his shaft until his cum leaked down her throat,  his hands roughly pushing and tugging on her scalp all the while.

Tav groaned into his cock wantonly, the soft vibrations of her voice eliciting another shiver from Astarion, his twitching cock leaking more precum into her warm mouth.

The flavour of him was enchanting. She needed to feel his cock fully inside her throat and she needed it now. 

Tav sunk her head deeply onto his shaft, obtaining a whimper from Astarion that was music to her ears. His cock was so deep inside her throat that she couldn’t breathe, and she steadied herself so that she could spend some time down there. With his cock deep enough in her throat to restrict her breathing, she positioned herself to continue more advantageously. She stuck her tongue out above her bottom lip, and it tasted the bottom of his hardened length, wiggling her wet muscle back and forth. 

It was only when she truly needed a breath that she came up, and even still, her mouth never left his cock. She opted to breathe from her nose, which had become slightly stuffy due to her ministrations. It mattered not to her, though. She thought only of the flavour of his hot liquid and the feeling of his hard cock against every fleshy surface in her wet mouth.

Tav began bobbing her head, sucking on him fervently and using her right hand to stroke what she could not easily fit in her mouth. She pumped his cock as more precum seeped out of his hardness, and she lapped up all of his flavours eagerly, moaning deeply onto him.

Astarion groaned through gritted teeth and grasped her hair. He wasn’t going to last much longer. Astarion suddenly craved Tav’s supple wet pussy, and the very idea of cumming inside of it threatened to send him over the edge.

He quickly tore Tav off his cock by her hair, her lips coming up with a pop. Her jaw was slack and her mouth was covered in spend and drool, a string of saliva connecting her mouth to his length. Her eyes were half-lidded and she gazed up at him lustfully.

“Fuck, Tav. I want to cum in your pussy so badly.” He moaned desperately, thrusting his hips upwards.

“Mmm, I would love that, baby,” Tav purred.

Tav ardently climbed up to Astarion with his hand in her hair, searching for his lips with hers. Their lips brushed intimately. She stuck her tongue out to lick his lip playfully, causing him to grip her hair more tightly, smashing their lips together. His tongue sought hers with desperation as he groaned wildly into her mouth, her hips grinding frantically against his.

Tav could feel his wet, hard length bouncing on her bum. Though her core was still sore, a reminder of their previous night together, the thought of him using her further, filling her still-coated walls with even more of his seed, turned her brain into a puddle of desirous soup. 

Astarion pulled Tav from his mouth by her hair and she groaned in pleasure through her teeth. Letting go of her hair, he then slithered both of his hands down to her hips. Tav sat up and placed her hands on his toned, freckled chest, lifting her pelvis cooperatively as Astarion used his right hand to align his large member with her dripping core, while his other gripped her hips bruisingly. 

Tav sank onto his cock, taking him in fully, in one smooth motion. She revelled in the feeling of her pussy -  so perfectly sore and wet with his seed, filled with his thickness until her cervix kissed his tip. Her cunt fluttered as she reached a hand to her clit, rubbing circles on her nub and grinding on his large and punishing cock. 

Astarion groaned at the feeling. Her depths were wet and warm. He wanted to feel her release squeezing on him; no, he needed it. He grabbed both of her hips and held her to hover over him so that he could thrust up into her.

He began spearing her over and over. His pace was violent, matching that of her fingers swirling on her clit. Astarion let out a choked groan and Tav screamed in pleasure. 

Tav’s nipples were hard and her tits were bouncing vigorously with each thrust. Salaciously wet sounds as well as Tav’s screams reverberated throughout the entire camp. Their bodies glistened with sweat and Tav’s face was a deep pink. Her hair bounced and her brows were knit upwards. Her mouth hung open and her eyes were half-closed, gleaming burgeoningly at Astarion.

His face mimicked hers in admiration. They were panting and groaning wildly with absolutely no concern for the ears of their companions. 

Tav began to tighten around him. “Astarion!” she screamed his name with great abandon. 

Her walls contracted around him, squeezing him and coaxing out his impending orgasm.

He continued fucking her through her climax. She removed her fingers from her clit as the quivering of her pussy began to slow. She threw her head back and closed her eyes, resting a hand on Astarion’s thigh and arching her spine.

Astarion snuck his hand to her swollen and sensitive bud. Having had enough, she yelped and stooped forward. Astarion took pride in her response, and he groaned in mischievous laughter. He released her clit and she craned her neck next to his head. 

Her neck was conveniently close to his mouth. Astarion, past the point of check-ins, plunged his fangs into her thoughtlessly as his cogitations grew muddy, the thought process of each moment felt more akin to a feral animal, rather than a person.

Tav squealed and sobbed. She couldn’t believe how amazing it felt to have sex with a vampire. She was finding it hard to imagine fucking without being bitten. The feeling of blood flowing out of her elevated the entire experience; becoming woozy and fuck drunk with a throbbing numbness in her throat. 

The taste of Tav’s sweet blood was sending him over the edge. His breath became uneven and his thrusts became unpredictable, as an unbearable and acute tension coiled in his groin. 

He stuffed his entire cock into Tav and pulled her hips onto his length roughly. His mind was submerged into a pool of red, carnal pleasure. And then, release. Astarion’s cum shot in thick, hot ropes into  Tav’s sore and swollen hole.

Her pussy was flooded with inconceivable amounts of the gorgeous vampire’s seed. She whined at the thought of it as well as the feeling of his mouth sucking and licking at her neck. 

He fucked his cum into her hole with an aggressive thrust which caused it to spurt out in all directions and drip down onto her clit. 

Astarion unlatched his teeth and cleaned Tav’s bloodied throat with his tongue. He kissed and sucked at her flesh, lapping up every drop.

He grabbed her ass harshly and then smacked it, leaving a red handprint. Tav writhed and whined on top of him, insatiably grinding her hips onto the tip of his cock. 

Bodies still connected, Astarion wrapped his arms around her in a hug and then rolled her beneath him. He pulled his arms out from under her back and placed his palms to the floor of his tent on either side of her, lifting himself up.

Tav’s knees were hiked up and her arms rested beside her head. She looked wrecked. Her hair was all over the place, her thighs were covered in cum, her lips were red and swollen, and her neck had four bloody puncture marks on one side, now crusted with drying blood.

He pulled out of her with a groan and their juices started pooling out of her and onto the bedroll. He lowered himself onto his elbows and smooched her tired and hot lips. She sleepily reciprocated the kiss and then smiled, sighing deeply.

He lifted his body from her before sitting on his heels. He ran his hands down her legs and squeezed her warm feet. “Thank you, darling. You’ve been divine.” He smiled genuinely, glancing downwards. 

“Hmm, you more,” she hummed. “I’m so exhausted, I just need a minute.” 

“Take your time - I’ll help clean you up, but we should ideally bathe in the river.” 

It pained him to admit that they had to leave their little escape. He was ecstatic about his newfound freedom, but perturbed about the tadpoles.

He wanted to hide away from his problems with Tav for as long as they could manage. He reached two digits to gather up his dripping seed from the curve of her ass and plunged them inside of her.

Tav groaned and wiggled her hips seductively.

“Mmm, baby. You spoil me, but I need to pee, and our campmates are probably waiting for us,” she breathed.

Astarion curled his fingers and pressed his thumb to her clit. Tav whined and he pulled out. 

“Ah, yes, of course. The campmates.” He frowned. 

He grabbed a nearby cloth and poured a splash of water on it with a glass bottle. He wiped Tav down thoughtfully before moving on to himself. 

“Thanks, Astarion.” She purred his name and rolled over onto her side before getting up to stand. She went to open the tent flap, and Astarion eyed her in shock. 

Is she about to just walk out of the tent naked? 

She hunched out of Astarion’s tent and shielded her eyes from the sun with her hand. Her stance exuded confidence and power. Before her naked form sat the cleric and the wizard, who was fixing breakfast at the fire. 

“Ah, good morning! What’s for breakfast?”

The cleric glanced at her, her eyes scrunched from the sunlight, and she sat atop her knees which pointed toward the fire. 

“Well, you certainly look comfortable,” Shadowheart observed.

The wizard was attentively working with a cookpot. “Good morn-” he began. He then cocked his head back and bore witness to Tav’s bare skin for only a quick moment before darting his face away in shock, unable to finish his sentence. Gale’s face turned beet-red as he forced his wide eyes to stare back at his cookpot where the food had begun to burn.

Tav, however, seemed to not notice his intense reaction to seeing her nude body. “The food is burning, I think.”

And indeed it was. 

“Right, yes! Sorry about that. It’ll be done soon, so if you want to get ready to eat, that would be splendid!” He spoke louder than he intended to without taking his eyes off the food, stirring it to cook it more evenly and not burn it further.

“Yes! I am starving. Be right back,” she said giddily. She pranced to the woods to pee and collect her clothes. She held them under her arm as she walked to the beach. Tav dropped her clothes on the shore and then quickly walked into the water, trailing bubbles behind her. 

She was waist-deep when she sunk herself fully into the water, arms first. Her bum peaked out of the water as she made her way under. She swam underwater into the calm patch of the river and then busted through the surface with a gasp.

All the while, Astarion got his clothes on and gathered his things for the day. Normally, he would have scrubbed himself raw after bedding someone, but he wasn’t as anxious to get clean after sex with Tav. In stark contrast to his “partners” before, if you could even call them that, Tav didn’t make him feel dirty - she made him feel wanted and special. 

Astarion threw on some camp clothes for the time being and then made his way out of his tent.  

“Ah, number two.” Shadowheart looked amused as ever. She sat on her bottom with her palms in the earth behind her, seeming very relaxed. 

Gale was plating their food onto four plates.

“None for me, thanks.” 

“Alright, and are you as naked as our other friend?” Gale avoided looking back at Astarion.

“No, no. I’m not as comfortable in the nude around strangers as our dear Tav.” 

Gale finally glanced back at Astarion. “So, have you two known each other for a while then, previously to this? That’s not the impression I got when I first met you.” Gale looked back at the food, and he made sure it was distributed evenly across 3 plates.

Astarion clicked his tongue. “Oh, no. We just met yesterday, same as you.” This wizard is being awfully nosey, Astarion thought. He held his tongue for now, and strode to the water to join Tav. 

He shed his layers, folding his clothes on a rock. He brought a towel and placed it beside where his clothes were. Astarion hesitantly waded into the water, fearing that the tadpole did not also protect him from running water as it had protected him from the sun. It was the first time his skin had touched river water since he was turned, but it wasn’t painful. He took small and careful strides into the body of water until his chest was fully submerged.

The water was warm. But not as warm as Tav, he reflected. Then, a small seed of stress was planted in his stomach. Where is Tav? 

He looked around, searching and shielding his eyes from the sun with his hand. Tav was up the river, holding a medium-sized fish in her hand and squatting atop some rocks by more shallow water. Her hair was wet and her toes scrunched and held onto the rock like a monkey. She carefully stood up and strode across the river rocks. 

She is truly, and very unapologetically, odd. he pondered, causing him to giggle. 

She nudely stalked the side of the river, fish in hand. Tav was trekking back to camp again with no concept of modesty. Hilariously ludicrous.

Tav walked back to the fire where Gale and Shadowheart were eating. She held out the fish to Gale, who was scarfing down his breakfast.

Gale peered up to Tav and immediately started a coughing fit as he choked on his food. He looked away and started thumping his chest with his fist.

Tav shrugged and then offered the fish to Shadowheart. 

“He’s the cook, and I’m eating, so you can just put it in that basket.” Shadowheart chuckled inwardly.

“Fine but it will have to be cooked soon or else it will go off.” She tossed the flopping fish into the basket and then stalked back to the beach to put her clothes on. 

When she got there, Astarion was drying off his hair with a towel and he was wearing nothing but his bottoms. 

“Hey! Do you feel fresh?” She smiled with her eyes.

“Yes, and did you get all cleaned up as well?” He smirked and pulled his shirt over his head. 

“Hmm - yeah, but I think I need to take a potion. I really enjoyed myself with you, but I am so sore,” she stated as she started putting her garments on, one by one.

Astarion recalled feeling the same way before. Torturous. “You can help yourself to any of the health potions in my pack if you wish.”

“Aw, really? Thanks! You’re the best!” she bubbled excitedly as she pulled her shirt over her torso.

They journeyed back to the fire together. When they arrived, Gale was organizing the camp supplies and Shadowheart had left for her tent. 

“We’re back, wearing clothes!” Astarion chanted sarcastically.

“Oh, wonderful,” he huffed, rolling his eyes. “Here, Tav, your breakfast.”

“Oh! Thanks so much!” She walked over to grab her plate of food and then went to sit on the ground across from him. Astarion was still patting and fussing with his hair behind her. She stared eagerly scarfing down her food. 

“Mm, sho good.” She covered her full mouth as she spoke.

“Thank you - I aim to please,” Gale said dryly. “So, you two caused quite the ruckus last night and, ahem,” he said, clearing his throat, “this morning.”

Tav swallowed her food and then wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She placed her plate down beside her and then got onto her hands and knees. 

Gale watched her as she slowly crawled towards him. His eyes were wide and he leaned back onto his palms. His body tensed as she crept her hands on either side of his lap.

Astarion looked up and watched Tav inquisitively with his brows canted downwards. He was holding the towel in his hand, frozen and staring at the druid.

Gale looked stiff and uncomfortable, but his face was blushing red. Tav’s face was inches from his chest when she inhaled his aura deeply, taking in his scent.

She sat back on her heels and pushed her hair behind her ears. “You can join us tonight, if you want,” she said, sounding sure of herself.

“What?!” Both men yelped in sync.

Astarion’s undead heart stopped momentarily. He knew that he had no ownership of Tav, but the thought of her fucking someone else sent his mind into chaos, his whole body tensed up.

Gale’s length started straining in his pants as he blushed with a dumbfounded expression. 

Tav looked back at Astarion, puzzled. “Oh, I’m sorry. I just thought -” She hung her head, trying to decide what to say next. “I thought everyone would be happy.”

She stood up and glared at Astarion. Her face was going red, and her eyes were glossy. She clenched her fists and took a power stance, similar to the one she had done earlier. 

The sky was grey and cloudy, and the wind smelt metallic.

Tav burst into tears and stormed away into her empty tent, sobbing while she walked.

Astarion and Gale shared a glance before Astarion huffed and then followed Tav. 

When he got to Tav’s tent, she was curled in the fetal position, sniffing with tear-wetted cheeks. She was rocking herself back and forth and gripping at her legs so intensely that it was leaving red marks that would surely bruise.

“Tav, I -” Astarion stood in the entryway of her tent, holding the flap up. “What’s just happened? Can we talk about it?”

“Mhm.” She sniffled and hugged her legs tighter.

Astarion felt a few drops of rain on his back before climbing into Tav’s tent. He sat cross-legged across from her, his hands folded neatly in his lap. “Okay, I’m listening.”

Tav took a deep breath and then slid her feet to uncollapse her legs. She instead grasped her hands together under her thighs.

“I’m not used to this. Being a leader, and these different customs. Where I’m from, love is shared freely; one would be bullied if they ever expressed feelings of jealousy or possessiveness.” She grasped her scalp with both hands and hung her head down. 

“I see.” Astarion glanced away in thought. “Well, I’m certainly not jealous of Gale.” 

“Oh, well, that’s good - but you looked hurt,” Tav sobbed.

The rain started to trickle down on the tent walls. Tav tugged her thighs and gazed up at the roof of her tent. 

“I’m - fine.” Astarion strained his words. He knew he didn’t own her, and that they had just met, but it was in the nature of a vampire to be possessive. He felt stupid having not guessed that the wood elf would be promiscuous and it tore at him, profoundly. He knew that there was nothing inherently wrong with promiscuity, but the idea of claiming Tav as his own personal pet made his thoughts twist. 

He crawled over to Tav, and she rested the backs of her knees. He climbed onto her, and kissed her deeply, nudging her body down with the force of his lips. 

In Tav’s tent, there were no blankets or pillows; they had all been sequestered into Astarion’s tent. So Tav lay back on the hard ground, and shifted uncomfortably. 

Astarion was perceptive of this through their kiss, so he broke the kiss, scooped her and rolled onto his back so that she could, at least, rest on him.

He was so tender and soft. Tav snuggled her head down to his chest and she closed her eyes. She sighed and nestled into his pectorals. 

Astarion gently caressed her head, petting down her hair. 

In one ear, she heard the peaceful pattering of raindrops above her. In the other ear, Astarion’s heartbeat. 

Astarion pondered the idea of sharing Tav with Gale. Could he even get her off? Probably not. If she did fuck Gale, maybe she would realize how unsatisfying of a lover he surely is. She would never want to do it again and then I could keep her all to myself.

But then he pictured Gale’s cock inside her, where he had been just this morning. Certainly, the wizard would not be missed if his blood were to be shed. Astarion fantasized about murdering Gale. It might just be worth it if he can claim Tav.

But what must he do to truly claim her? After all, he’s already bitten her, fucked her, kissed her, held her - what more could she want? What did Gale have that he didn’t? 

The neediness of having to feed.  He thought. Gale won’t take anything from her as I do, well, except for maybe her time that would be wasted while he fails to make her so much as whimper. Pathetic.

Astarion’s head flooded with ideas of who Gale was, and it made him chuckle under his breath, rousing Tav slightly with the vibration of his chest. 

Tav huffed and then snuggled into him tighter. 

The large part of the day still lay ahead of them, as well as a multitude of unknowns - the solution to their tadpole’ed predicament, the events of the day, where they would camp next - but of one thing, Astarion was certain. 

He added one more simple plan to his short list, then; to make Tav, the promiscuous wood-elf, solely and utterly his. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Notes: autism be damned, that woman can catch a fish

#astarion x tav #astarion fanfic #astarion smut #astarion ancunin #astarion x original female character #astarion #astarion fluff #astarion x reader #astarion x female tav #astarion headcanons

[girlkisser13]

dating jason grace would include

• ugh, the chivalry radiating off this man is CRAZYY.

• jason is the epitome of a gentleman fr!! he’ll do little things like holding open doors for you (even if it means waiting a few extra moments), offering his sweater when you're cold without hesitation, or fixing up a plate for you during dinner, he's always trying to make life a little easier for you. <33

• if you so much as utter a complaint about your feet aching or your shoes being too uncomfortable, he's already kneeling down, his broad back facing you with his hands gesturing for you to climb on for a piggy-back ride. he’ll be running around camp like a lunatic, carrying you on his back or in his arms, but he doesn't care because he always puts your comfort and safety first!!

• his protective nature extends to the battlefield as well. even though he knows you're more than capable of defending yourself, he fights alongside you, ready to shield you from ANY harm.

• whenever you talk to jason, he always has a way of letting you know that he's listening to your every word. even if he's occupied with something else, he'll make a point to let you know that he is paying attention to you. he'll immediately direct his gaze towards you, and abandon whatever task he was previously engaged in, leaning in closer to you the longer you speak.

• even if you try to cut your story short or apologize for repeating yourself, jason will NEVER rush you or make you feel uncomfortable. instead, he'll hold you close with his arms wrapped tightly around your waist, encouraging you to keep talking and sharing your thoughts. because jason doesn't mind hearing the same stories over and over again, as long as they're coming from you. <33

• you know that one tiktok trend where one person tries to switch foods/drinks with their partner? yeah if you ask him he will not hesitate to switch with you. he also shares his food with you with no complaints.

• but he also knows you well enough to get you something to eat even if you say you don’t want anything or that say that you’re not hungry.

• jason never fails to express his love for you verbally every day, but he also has a way of communicating it without speaking a word. he'll naturally reaches for your hand under the table, stealing quick kisses on your shoulder when no one is watching. even the way he touches you lingers, like he doesn't want to let go.

• jason lovess resting his forehead against yours. it just brings him a sense of comfort and solace, really just your presence itself makes him feel safe. <33

• he most definitely places kisses on your hand. i'm talking regency era jane austen style kisses to your fingertips or palm, looking away with a visible blush.

• i feel like he radiates a mixture of golden retriever boyfriend and orange cat boyfriend.

• he is pretty romantic and enjoys meticulously planning dates for you both, such as movie dates, picnics, hiking, and more.

• one of his love languages is acts of service. whether it's helping you with chores, surprising you with breakfast in bed, or offering a shoulder to lean on when you’re having a bad day, he's always there to support them in any way he can.

• he’s 100% a morning person (due to his militaristic upbringing at camp jupiter). if you’re also a morning person, the two of you enjoy going on morning jogs together. if you’re not a morning person, he’ll spend hours admiring you when you’re sleeping (not in a creepy or weird way lmao).

• he’s a big reader but sticks with audiobooks (due to his dyslexia) and will read every single book that you read so that he can talk with you about them.

#pjo #pjo tv show #pjo hoo toa #pjo fandom #hoo #percy jackon and the olympians #heroes of olympus #jason grace x reader #jason grace

[fallenneziah]

Hello I saw your Alpha Ghost x Omega reader fics and I was wondering what if reader was an alpha and Ghost was the Omega

(If you can make reader a timber wolf and make it fluff no smut)

Aw, I love making these things. You'll get all the fluff.

Alpha!Reader x Omega!Ghost

Omega!Ghost who actually was very sheltered about telling people he was an Omega. He didn't tell anyone for a long time and went through years just to try and hide it.

Omega!Ghost who after being captured and held by Roba couldn't help seeing his body as nothing but an object, wanting to hide it more.

The generational shame that came with being an Omega and wanting to hide himself continued for many years that he was like this.

Alpha!Reader whose distinct senses and abilities made them a prime recruit for the military. Joining without incident and pushing through rank.

Omega!Ghost whose been used to hiding so long the feelings he's attempted to keep dormant deep down bubble back up slowly when he sees you.

Your capable, your strong, your scent hits his nose and it's like his knees are weak and he can't get enough.

Alpha!Reader who sees the big lieutenant and it's honestly scary to see him looming and watching you. He's an alpha probably, making sure you don't cause shit for the others.

Alpha!Reader and omega!Ghost don't get too close yet, Ghosts intense heat blockers keep most of his identity a mystery. If anyone got so close as to figure it out that was an accomplishment.

Alpha!reader who starts trying to prove themselves for the alpha watching every day.

Price can only laugh, looking over at Ghost whose watching behind the mask with the lovesick eyes of a puppy finding a new owner. "Do they know?"

"No."

Price looks back at you, flexing your hardest and trying your best to impress. "Didn't think so."

Omega!Ghost who is relishing the attention. He knows you're showing off for him, and whether he will admit it or not, he likes it. He enjoys watching you flex your muscles and show off the wolfish side of yourself.

This gander goes on for a while between the two. Ghost watches as he feels that Omega inside him purrs and leaps. Like a cat awake from a nap ready to stretch its back legs and take off.

Alpha!reader who's tired, a day of showing off to the man who won't even speak to you. They head back to their common area and whose there?

Omega!Ghost whose finding that his omega is much more prone to cuddling than he remembered. Snuggled up in a blanket watching whatever was on tv.

"Sir, lieutenant." You attempted to greet casually as you sat down. The taste of peppermint and lemon citrus. The scent makes your stomach twist and your head whip around.

Omega!Ghost who could care less hunkered in his blanket like a turtle poking his head from his shell while your instincts stir and confusion sets in.

Ghost is very used to your scent because he smelled it first. But as you smell this new smell you realize it's coming from him.

Alpha!reader who realizes the man you've wanted to impress all this time has been an omega. Which, honestly? Not a bad thing. Not at all.

Omega!Ghost smells your growing scent, looking over at you. Your scent swarms the room like a thick cloud. And you look over at him. His pupils expand and close, as if trying to resist relaxing into the presence.

Alpha!Reader who lets the scent fill the air and swarm his nose. You smell of woods, fresh dirt and the familiar smell of a mutt wet from the river.

"You think this is that easy?" He asks curiously as he flips through his book.

You watch his fluid motions, seeing the way his fingers grasp so gently at the pages. You look at his face, seeing his beautiful lashes casting over his brown eyes.

"I didn't realize I'd have to be chasing you.."

"Does that turn you off??" He asks, and looks to you briefly.

Your canines show behind a smile. You reach your hand over and rub his thigh, feeling the muscle tense under the subtle touch. "No, no it doesn't at all." You reply, moving boldly closer to him.

Omega!Ghost usually didn't let people into his space, but hell, you'd worked your ass off for it. "Mm." He replied and you snuggled up to him, your hand drifting around his lap to capture his waist. When that didn't make him move, you nuzzled his scent glands, shifting his mask and giving them an experimental lick.

Ghost jumped, his cheeks going bright red. "That's enough you- mutt."

"Ouch, Ghost... You like it."

Alpha!Reader who proceeds to gently groom Ghost. Ghost hadn't ever been groomed before. Maybe the occasions head scratches from Price but this was... So much different.

Omega!Ghost who can't help whining for your attention and affections. His resolve is slowly crumbling beneath him as your smell is the tip of the treat. He's held it off as long as he could, now he just needs the experience he's missed out on from people he can trust.

Alpha!Reader doesn't pull his mask up too high, but enough to lick and kiss around his neck and shoulders. There was no intention of lust behind them, merely to help his shoulders relax with warm, sweet lips tending to them.

Omega!Ghost who sinks into it, nuzzling against you. Every instinct in his body he'd pushed down for years over years pooling out in an instant. His trust issues scream at him, and he partly pulls away. "Keep your hands where I can see them... Mutt." He mumbled, attempting to make it clear where his line drew.

Alpha!Reader who fits him in their arms, nuzzling him. As any wolf would, you continued to groom him. "I wouldn't do anything you wouldn't want." Ghost is completely lax. Whatever you did... Fuck you did it right.

Something felt so... New. It felt like your arms were a barrier between him and everything else. Your arms kept him safe, your scent, your presence, this was safety.

Alpha!reader who watches his eyes so effortlessly flutter closed. They nudge his cheek and press a quick kiss to the mask, feeling their heart jump for joy.

"We'll take it slow ... But I think I've found what makes you tick." You chuckle, seeing him fully blissed out, getting a mere taste of what true safety feels like. After years of hiding, worrying and screaming. You've given him just a smidge of what he could have with you.

Safety and companionship.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #cod mw2 #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #call of duty #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #alpha reader #omega simon riley #alpha!reader

[getvalentined]

Thinking about Vincent's involvement in the Queen's Blood storyline and how it's the perfect explanation for everything going south with the game in fairly recent history even though the game has canonically been around for decades. It's genuinely so clever, I'm in love.

So, for anyone who hasn't done the full questline, Vincent is the highest ranking Queen's Blood player in the entire game prior to facing off against the Shadowblood Queen herself and the completion of the questline. (After this, ranks are adjusted worldwide because of game mechanics; Nanaki is rank 10 in the QB Arena at Gold Saucer.)

A lot of people have poked fun at this, like Vincent apparently learned the game really fast and was just naturally really good at it—but no, actually, Vincent played the game before. He's this good because he was champion level back in the 70s, back when he was human.

We know this to be the case because when you match against Lidrehl, he says "the Emerald Witch sleeps in Nibelheim with a monster of chaos, and that is where it will remain." This means that Vincent already had the card when Hojo killed him. It's not clear how the Emerald Witch came into his possession, but you don't make his rank without being a very active player, so it's clear that he was very prolific in the scene back then!

And back then, it was just a game. No mysterious deaths or disappearances. The myth of the Shadowblood Queen and the Emerald Witch was still there, as Lidrehl developed the game based on the story, but everything was fine.

This is definitely because Vincent was active in the scene, and he had the Emerald Witch. The Rebirth Ultimania implies that the Shadowblood Queen is a piece of Jenova (which I thought was pretty obvious since she calls Cloud a "puppet" and he's also apparently the only one capable of facing her head-on), and the Emerald Witch is the soul of a Cetra that serves as the silent warden to her imprisonment within the game. (Imprisoning monsters in cards is not new to the series, either, since FF8 literally allowed players to turn monsters into cards rather than fighting them.) Vincent being so active in the circuit allowed him to spread the Emerald Witch's influence through the scene and kept the Shadowblood Queen quiet, reminded her to keep her head down, kept her from trying anything at risk of being spiritually shitmixed again.

But then Hojo killed Vincent, and the Cetra warden Emerald Witch was in his deck, and that deck was tucked away with his things in Nibelheim. And so she spent thirty years unable to perform her ongoing duty to assure the safety of the planet. This time allowed Jenova the Shadowblood Queen to regain the power and confidence to manifest and start wreaking havoc again, finally building up enough strength to directly possess her current holder—during the period that Sephiroth is calling for Reunion, which presumably helped to really draw her back to full consciousness.

There's a whole detailed storyline here that makes perfect sense, with Vincent's murder literally being the catalyst leading to the resurrection of the Shadowblood Queen, and Hojo never having a clue what he'd done.

This is super interesting to me not only because it actually showed some of the more far-reaching consequences of Vincent's death, but also because it indicates that Hojo has unwittingly been Jenova's most loyal emissary for decades. He gave her his wife, his son, himself—and the first murder he ever committed served to imprison the only power holding a piece of her thought lost to history at bay, allowing her to manifest decades later with her own will and personality completely intact, something that she can't do through Sephiroth.

As it turns out, Hojo and Vincent have been opposing forces in supporting fate's "chosen ones," the forces around them capable of choosing the final fate of the planet, for much longer than either of them ever thought.

Still not a huge fan of the card game itself, but I adore the way it's been woven into the story, and strengthened it as a result.

#vincent valentine #professor hojo #queen's blood #final fantasy 7 rebirth #ff7 rebirth #ff7rb #ff7 rebirth spoilers #fandom ramble

[rayshippouuchiha]

Tasea!

Okay so I just stumbled upon your Tasea au and it's living rent free in my mind.

Skull and Tsuna just living their best life while Hibari and Reborn are chewing glass is my favorite thing ever

Consider this:

Both Skull and Tsuna become ridiculous strong throughout this trip.

They don't even notice it.

It starts with casual convos about how they use flames, then experiments, light spars etc.

Turns out not being in mortal peril 24/7 does wonders for some people.

So from time to time, videos of them come to light, Tsunas twink ass obliterating someone in an arm wrestling match. Skull killing it in some weightlifting challenge or doing some insane acrobatics.

Videos of them sparring without flames in open parks or maybe being stumbled upon in abandoned warehouses.

Everyone who isn't Reborn or Hibari can actually see how good this is for them.

Gokudera keeps a collection of "Decimo being Amazing" pictures and videos he finds. That's his best friend after all!

Maybe Reborn would feel slightly jealous that even his teacher position was usurped, but he's kinda busy picking which leash he's going to put on Skull the moment he catches him.

Hibari is listening to Olivia Rodriguez during his speedrun of becoming the world most feared Hitman (only possible because Reborn is busy picking which tracker to put under Skulls skin once he finds him) in search of Tsuna

Sometimes, he picks a random grunt to ask for relationship advice.

I also like to think that as time goes on, a whole countersquad starts to form.

Like they notice that maybe they have some things to talk out, and that's why they keep searching, but they aren't per se helping Hibari or Reborn either.

But yeah anyway I love this au

I need a 100 chapter fic injected i to my veins pronto, but als I don't have that kind of talent... R.I.P

See, the thing is, it's not that Tsuna and Skull become ridiculously strong during their little vacation.

They're both already monstrously strong in their own right.

It's just that, for the first time since they were each dragged into this lifestyle kicking and screaming, they're spending time with someone who A.) learns in a similar fashion and B.) also understands what it's like to be given no choice about this entire thing.

So, for the first time, they're both ,,, comfortable.

Tsuna can ask questions without having to worry about dodging bullets or having to scream to be heard. Skull can impart his hard and bloodily won knowledge on someone without having to hear any "well actually" type bullshit because the way he uses his Flames is technically "wrong".

So of course that means they both start rapidly progressing.

Skull is able to describe things to Tsuna in terms that he understands and can actually visualize. Tsuna is so genuinely open to whatever it is that Skull's doing that Skull no longer feels the need to really hide.

Tsuna gets his hand-to-hand and acrobatic skills refined. Skull starts really opening up about what he's capable of.

They both refine how they look at and utilize their Flames.

They both stop caring about what everyone else is going to say/do.

On the opposite side of the situation, Reborn is ready to chew glass, Hibari is actively forcing other people to chew glass, and if Kusababe has to deal with Kyo-san turning to him one more time asking about why "the little animal fled" he's going to look into taking a vacation of his own.

The others, having now seen countless videos and photos of Skull and Tsuna taking the world by storm together, are starting to reevaluate what they think/know of the situation.

#RayRambles #KHR #Katekyo Hitman Reborn #Tsuna And Skull's Excellent Adventure AU

[heliza24]

A few Armand thoughts that currently have me in a chokehold:

1. The building in Dubai only “groans” when Armand is around, and specifically when Armand is mad. Some of my favorite times I’ve noticed it include when Louis tells him to go take care of Daniel’s room in ep 1, after Daniel slaps Louis in episode 5, when Daniel tries to put Dr Fareed “on the record” in episode 6, and when he declares “this session is over” after Daniel starts pressing Louis about the rats in episode 7.

2. This, along with the fact that Armand is literally controlling the windows and balcony doors with his iPad, really adds to the feeling that he’s holding both Louis and Daniel hostage in a trap of his own design. When he mentions the interior designer that pitied Louis and his separation from the natural world and added the tree to compensate? That was definitely Armand’s idea, to make the captivity a little more bearable.

3. I’ve always wondered why I find the Beethoven Sonata 14 to be such effective scoring at the end of episode 7. There are a lot of contributing factors I think— it’s dramatic, it’s recognizable and therefore builds suspense, it’s used in the beginning and end of the episode as bookends. But it feels so *right*— even though I LOVE all of Daniel Hart’s original score. But here’s the thing. Armand controls the diegetic music being played in the penthouse. That’s established in ep 2 when he turns it on before Daniel and Louis have dinner. And when the sonata is first playing at the beginning of episode 7, Daniel and Louis are back in the dining room (being served by Armand/Rashid). So we can assume that the music is diegetic in that scene, and that Armand is controlling it. When it comes back in the moment of conflict and reveal at the end of the episode 7, the music is nondiagetic. It’s not playing literally in the room for the characters, but is part of the score. But we’ve already established that Armand is controlling it. It’s like his control has suddenly spread to the entire narrative that we’re witnessing. He’s in control of the whole show.

4. This is kind of a separate thought and more oriented towards season 2, but Armand is always styled— costume but also especially hair— to match whoever he’s romancing at the time.

I kind of assume the Dubai aesthetic is what he has chosen, and Louis is more matching him (see above points for my reasoning on that I guess).

But when Louis meets him in Paris, he’s perfectly positioned aesthetically to be attractive to Louis (especially coming off his experience with Lestat). He looks mature, capable of leading the coven. He’s suave, with his well fitted suits and slicked back hair.

In the 18th century flashbacks (god I can’t believe we are getting to go back to the 18th century, my favorite of all historical eras) he is matching Lestat like, down to the color palette.

But in San Francisco (and forgive the bad quality screen grab for these, I don’t think we have any high quality stills of this yet) his hair is light and curly, and he looks a fully 5-10 years younger than the Paris or Dubai scenes.

Because he’s matching a 20-something Daniel.

*proceeds to internally combust*

#interview with the vampire #iwtv #interview with the vampire amc #armand #my meta #devils minion

[rafeandonlyrafe]

in the middle

words: 1.4k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, barry x rafe x reader, threesome, thruple, bi!rafe, bi!barry, male on male action, established relationship, female receiving oral, unprotected sex, p in v sex, cum eating oops, male receiving oral

it's rare for rafe and barry to be getting along for as long as they have. they both are in love you and are infatuated with each other, but their strong personalities easily clash. it leads to many arguments with you in the middle, but not for the past couple days.

you're in the middle of something else now, snuggled into rafes side as you look up to him, a bit of stubble growing on his chin as his chest moves up and down, deep, relaxed breaths as he sleeps.

barry is latched onto your back, arm around your waist, face pressed between your shoulders.

you let out a soft happy hum, leaning forward to press your lips against rafes bare chest, pressing your hand over barrys. he spreads his fingers to allow you to slip yours in between, pushing even closer to you.

“what time is it?” barry mumbles, his voice heating your back, making you giggle as the vibrations of his words tickle your skin.

“shh.” rafe grunts out. 

“it's like 10.” you glance at the clock. truly, it's minutes away from being 11am, but you don't want to admit that to the boys. you've been awake for about an hour now, just enjoying being happily slotted between them.

“we should get up.” barry says, straightening up to press kisses against your shoulder.

“we shouldn't.” you turn your head and move onto your back, connecting your lips with his in a hot kiss, tongues quickly appearing to fight for dominance.

“want you.” you whisper to barry. “please.”

“hey.” rafe is more awake now, tugging on your hip to face him too. “don't leave me out.”

you smile and kiss rafe, tugging on barrys hand until he gets the hint and leans over your body, the three of your mouths pressing together in a mess of lips, tongue and teeth. you pull back to watch barry and rafe kiss, fascination in your eyes. you'll never get sick of seeing them like this.

“what do you want princess?” barry asks, turning to look down at you. “i think my dick is still recovering from last night.’

“eat me out?” you flutter your eyelashes at them, hoping it's convincing. “together?”

“god, you're lucky you're cute.” rafe kisses your cheek as they both move down the bed in beautiful synchronicity.

you only managed to pull on a pair of underwear last night, and not even your own as you're in one of barrys boxers.

he smiles softly seeing you in his clothes, noticing that he somehow pulled on rafes underwear while rafe put his sweatpants back on to sleep, his dick pressing against the gray fabric.

it's always a mess of bodies whenever rafe and barry are getting you along, battling which one gets to fuck you first or shoving the others head down onto their cock.

you smile gently down at them, the warm sunlight coming in from the windows and illuminating the room as you lift your hips and allow barrys capable hands to tug them down your legs, flinging them away.

“be nice, boys.” you say, barry nodding while rafe just smirks at you, leaning in first to press a wet kiss to your clit.

barry mumbles something about him being unfair before also bending down, getting comfortable next to rafe as they both take turns licking over your cunt.

“ahhh.” you moan out, head leaning back against the pillows as your eyes slide closed. rafe takes your thigh and pushes your legs wider apart, giving them more access.

“tastes so good baby.” rafe says, sliding his tongue lower to your entrance. rafe realizes it still tastes of barry as he licks into you where barry was thrusting all night long, leaving rafe to cum down your throat.

“oh, fuck!” you squeal out when barrys mouth also latches onto you, sucking your clit into his mouth as rafe begins to thrust his tongue in and out.

he reaches down with his free hand to pull his cock out, pressing it against barrys side until he finally lowers a hand, wrapping it around his length and giving it a tug.

“come on, let's make princess come first.” barry says.

“yeah.” rafe gasps out, moving to give barry a kiss, tongues darting out to lick over your clit as well as into the others mouth.

barry keeps his hand around rafes dick, but absentmindedly strokes it, slow enough to not get him off.

“f-fingers.” you whine. “fingers or fuck me, please.”

rafe presses his finger against your entrance, teasingly circling around until you cry out and he pushes inside.

rafe wastes no time setting a quick rhythm with his hand, a wet squelching sound emitting every time he pushes in, a mess of your slick and barrys cum that hadn't dripped out of you in the night.

“c-close.” you warn. your clit is still pretty sensitive from last night, recalling when barry slapped it several times after you came without permission.

“cum for us, baby.” rafe says, his tongue stroking through your folds while barry is fixed on your clit, eyes closed in concentration as he sucks until he feels your hips press up, cumming with a loud moan as rafes fingers plunge inside of you.

you reach down and push their heads away as your legs shake. barry smirks at the way your high steadily works through your entire body, turning to kiss rafe as you recover. 

it ends up being more of licking your slick off each other's mouths and chin as rafe pulls his fingers out of you and pushes them between the kiss, tasting you even more.

you regain enough energy to sit up. “gimme attention too.” you complain.

“oh come on, baby.” rafe laughs, pulling away with a soft smile on his face. “you know we spoil you.”

it's true, while the boys will join you together in bed, they never have each other without you, while you spend time with each of them one on one. they drop whatever they're doing for you, even if it's just to help you choose what dress to wear or reaching something from a top shelf.

“let me and barry spoil you.” you look down at rafes crotch, his sweatpants pushed around his thighs, barrys hand still stroking slowly.

“im close already.��� rafe says. his morning wood always makes him quick to burst, and having your taste on his tongue and moans in his ear only pushes him closer.

you nod, rafe turning to sit up on the bed, tugging his pants the rest of the way off before spreading his thighs and flopping back against the pillows, letting you and barry kiss over his cock now, sharing his cock much the way he was just sharing your pussy.

“want him to cum inside me, mkay barry?” you tell him, who quickly nods.

you still work your mouths on rafe for a bit longer, tongues running up and down his length, each sucking a ball into your mouth, noses pressing together as you gently suck.

“god.” rafe groans. “seriously, im not gonna last.”

you move quickly to sit up, moving to press your wet cunt against rafes abs. you take his cock into your hand while barry suckles at the head of his dick.

you wait until the exact moment rafe swells in your hand before you move, hovering your pussy over his cock only long enough for barry to move out of the way as you sink down with a moan, rafe reaching down to grip your ass as he cums, hips pressing up to fill your cunt.

barry is quick to bring his mouth to your pussy, tongue swiping over your stretched entrance and rafes cock as you pull yourself off, letting barry clean anything that leaks out, pressing a few kisses to your cunt then rafes softening cock before your legs give out, flopping onto the bed next to rafe.

“your turn, bears.” you look at barry, spreading your legs. “wanna cum in me too?”

“i was serious.” barry says with a slight cringe, cupping his crotch over his- rafes- boxers. “im still recovering from last night.”

“aww.” you giggle, schooching over so there's space between you and rafe. “you need some cuddles then.”

barry rolls his eyes, but lays in-between the two of you as you both cuddle into him, rafe reaching over barry to grab your waist as you both snicker at the tough guy in between the two of you reduced to being in a big cuddle pile.

“i hate the both of you.” barry says.

you shake your head, knowing he's not serious. “love you too barry.” you press a kiss against his lips, then rafes.

you look at them expectantly. they both sigh before giving each other a quick peck on the lips as you grin at them.

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[justlemmeadoreyou]

harry with a very pregnant y/n-headcanons

-> Harry is the ultimate doting husband when Y/N is pregnant. "Let me get that for you, love," he murmurs, jumping up to fetch her whatever she needs before she can even ask. Y/N tries to protest that she's perfectly capable, but Harry insists on waiting on her hand and foot.

-> He constantly showers her with thoughtful gifts - fresh flower bouquets, her favorite snacks and treats, cozy new maternity outfits. "These are for my two favorite people," Harry says softly, cupping her bump as he presents the offerings. Anything to make his wife feel cherished and appreciated.

-> Harry can't get enough of cradling Y/N's bump and talking or singing softly to their unborn baby. He lies with his head in her lap for hours, utterly enamored as he watches her belly ripple with kicks. "Strong one, just like your mum," he chuckles.

-> Harry is in a perpetual state of awe and wonder throughout y/n's pregnancy. He spends hours just watching her, mesmerized by the way her body is changing and nurturing their child. "You're so incredible, you know that?" he murmurs, reverently tracing the outline of her growing belly.

-> When Y/N is feeling achy and sore, Harry draws her a steamy bath filled with fragrant rose petals and flickering candles. "This is your night to relax, my love," he murmurs, gently massaging her feet and lower back after she soaks.

-> Since Y/N tires easily, Harry cheerfully takes over all the cooking duties. "What's my pregnant queen craving tonight?" he asks with a wink, happily whipping up even the most bizarre food combinations her hormones demand.

-> When y/n's ankles start swelling, Harry insists on giving her regular foot massages. He's gentle and attentive, working out the tension in her muscles with skilled, nimble fingers. "Just relax, love. Let me take care of you," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to her ankle.

-> With nesting instincts in full force, Y/N can't stop buying things for the baby. Harry comes home to find she's purchased hundreds of newborn onesies. "Erm…I may have gone a bit overboard," she admits sheepishly.

-> He sneaks out to buy an entire nursery's worth of plush stuffed animals after seeing how Y/N's face lights up around them. When she wanders into the newly-decorated room, she bursts into happy tears. "For our little one," Harry says gruffly.

-> In Y/N's final weeks, Harry refuses to leave her side, terrified of missing the birth of their child. "Please, let me just sleep on the floor tonight," he begs, not wanting to be separated for even a moment. His overprotective hovering is both endearing and exasperating.

-> The pure, unguarded adoration in Harry's eyes whenever he looks at his pregnant wife is enough to make anyone swoon. "You're the most incredible, strong, beautiful woman," he tells her often, cradling her face tenderly.

-> After the baby's arrival, Harry dotes on Y/N even more - keeping the house tidy, ensuring she's rested and well-fed, while also being the most loving, smitten new father. "I've got you both," he murmurs, pressing kisses to her temple and the baby's downy head. "Always."

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