#give Dark the fucking cane back

[anotherdarkiboi]

I can't believe I just noticed this, and maybe someone else has noted this already. But Damien has a habit of wringing his hands around his cane when he's stressed.

Dark does something similar: he pulls at his lapels when he's stressed/pissed/scared. You see this a lot in "Darkiplier vs Antisepticeye" when things start to unravel and even at the very end with Dark!Chica (although it's cut off at the bottom).

Always the hands in fists, always the tension over a lack of control over the situation. Perhaps Dark does this because he doesn't have anything to fidget with anymore.

This man has been so goddamn stressed for over a century, let him REST.

#markiplier #darkiplier #wkm damien #give Dark the fucking cane back #why does Actor have it in the DAMIEN animation? give it back!! #who killed markiplier #markiplier egos #markiplier theory #darkiplier vs antisepticeye #markiplier headcanons #markegos #markiplier tag #wkm #p-pretty hands #also damien and dark (and therefore Mark) look amazing in these photos #mans probably breaks fidget toys often since it looks like he has crazy grip strength and probably is aggressive with them

[cosmicrot]

I think everyone ever who has tried to tone police, belittle, or complain about disabled and chronically ill people talking about our illnesses and pains.... should have to pay us 500 dollars for every dumbass comment they’ve ever made. 

#just thinking about stupid shit #i can't count the number of 'no wonder you don't have friends all you do is talk about your chronic illness' #like yo what the FUCK my dude i absolutely do not #but apparently talking about it more than once in an evening counts as 'constantly talking about it' #like i'm in constant pain i have full right to complain and talk about it it's not like i'm being hella depressing or dark #i'm just like 'ah yeah sorry i'm in pain a lot excuse me' or talking about my back or like relating to a fellow cane user #what makes it worse is when they try to tell me i can't talk about my disability in a certain way #like seriously give me 500 dollars

[sciencebecameouraddiction]

prompt: who did this to you? tell me now.

summary: when you end up getting hurt while out, you make it back home, but just barely.

genre: angst, hurt/comfort

characters: alastor, lucifer

warnings: talk of fighting, abuse, broken bones and getting hurt, being stabbed. essentially you’re hurt and they respond to you being hurt. blood and medical care by the characters too.

alastor

you walked into the hotel, staggering in, barely able to keep yourself up. every breath your feeble body tried to drag in aggravated another part of your body, causing even slight breaths to feel like you were being punched again.

you grimaced as you found stability against the wall next to door, leaning against it, your head hitting the wall. you micro-adjusted yourself trying to find a spot where you could breathe, knowing if you didn’t you would pass out. you couldn't find that spot, and were near tears. you couldn’t breathe, everything hurt, your eye was swollen shut, and you didn’t know what else to do. you had to get to your room but the thought of walking up those stairs and then down the hallway to your room seemed more of a torture session then you just got through.

that’s when you heard the soft pattering of feet and you looked up to see wide eyes.

red eyes bore into yours as the momentary shock of seeing alastor stopped your brain from thinking about the mind numbing pain you were experiencing. you watched him tighten his grip on his cane as he slowly made his way over to you, like you were a wounded animal.

“can you walk?” he asked, sizing up your figure and waving the cane away.

“i’m not… sure. i… got here… okay…. but my rooms… far.” you muttered out, long pauses between words to catch your breath. he nods, a dark shadow passing over his face along with apprehension, before he shakes his head and approaches you holding out his hands.

“may i carry you?” he asks.

“what?” your shock at his question causing you to not fully register what he said.

“will you allow me to carry you up to the rooms. i’ll help you with whatever injuries you have there.” he says slow and careful.

“i don’t know if… you can carry… me.” you murmur. he smiles a bit more now.

“i’m stronger than i look.” he replies back easily. you wave your free hand at him, giving him consent to go ahead. he gently places his arm under your knees and in a swift movement your in his arms, your body searing as your injuries are jostled.

“fuck.” you moan out trying to breath. alastor stays still and waits until you’re breathing somewhat regularly. he then starts taking you up the stairs, heading the opposite direction from your room.

“my room…” you say pointing behind him.

“i know. we’re going to my room. i have more first aid supplies then what charlie put in the rooms.” he replies easily, not breaking a sweat or even seeming out of breath. his door opens and he gently places you down on a chair near the opening to the forest. you try and find your breath again as alastor quietly darts off and comes back with a box of medical supplies.

he’s quiet as he examines you and asks permission to take off your shirt. he quickly assesses the damage to your ribs, your ankle and your face. checking your hands as well and glaring at the wounds on your knuckles. he starts with your ribs first, setting them and then wrapping them, forcing your posture straight. had you not been just trying to stay awake, you would have blushed at how gently his hands trailed your sides, piecing you back together. next he hands you a cold pack for your eye. you hold it up as he wraps your hand in gauze and ointment. you switch hands as he treats the other one.

“i don’t think your ankle is broken.” he says, “but at the least it’s sprained horribly.” he pulls out a stabilizer and gauze. “this will hurt.” you nod.

“do you worse.” you mutter, finally able to take deeper but still shallow breaths. he turns your foot to face up and your eyes widen as you scream.

“it’s okay. you’re okay.” he says, his eyes wide and worried.

“it hurts al. it hurts.” you cry, tears running down your face.

“i know. but let me finish up. it will feel better.” he assured you as he reaches up and wipes your tears away.

“go ahead.” you whisper. he quickly puts the stabilizer against your leg and then wraps it with gauze. tears running down your cheeks as you keep still and silent.

“it’s done.” he says leaning back as you sit in the chair feeling exhausted.

“thank you… alastor.” you voice no louder than a whisper but you know he hears you as he nods. he packs everything up and then moves you to the bed that magically appears in the room.

“i have a room al.” you say, sitting against the pillows.

“i know you do, but you can’t do anything in this condition. so you’ll stay here until i deem it okay for you to leave.” his tone leaving no room for argument and you nod. “now, who did this to you?”

your eyes widen as your head snaps up at him. gone was the man you saw before, replaced with what you knew as the radio demon. the shift happened almost instantaneously. “it was nothing alastor. i just… fucked up.” you say looking off to the side.

“i don’t take well with lying dear.” he says, his hand hovering over your ankle as a warning. you look at him disbelieving and he just tilts his head. almost as if he’s saying ‘try me’. you sigh.

“it was an ex of mine. he worked for vox and i left him before i came here. he was abusive and i had enough. but he found me and he knew i was at the hotel. said i couldn’t get away from him, and that we were meant to be. and when i tried to get away…” you motioned to yourself. you hoped your words came across as truthful and sincere. you internally sighed in relief as alastor nodded, and sent his shadow off. moments later husk appeared and alastor murmured something to him. you saw husk’s eyes widen as he looked at you and then alastor.

“i’ll take care of it.” husk said, his gaze steely as he left.

“relax my dear. you’re safe now and we’ll help you recover.” alastor said, as you moved to lay down, him taking up an arm chair by the bed and procuring a book from thin air. you closed your eyes as guilt consumed you. you had told alastor the truth but not the full truth.

you didn’t tell him that your ex mentioned that him “giving to you what was coming” was from vox and was to be a message to the radio demon. you knew that alastor would withdraw after that and that would hurt you more than any other physical pain anyone could put you through.

lucifer

you quickly shut the door to the house, leaning against it and taking a breath. you looked down to your abdomen and got a bit woozy seeing the blood spread across your white shirt.

“damn it.” you mutter, feeling a bit foggy from the blood loss. you shake your head trying to clear it. you knew that lucifer was home and you could only hold onto the hope that he didn't hear you come in. you were getting ready to make your way to the bathroom when lucifer popped in front of you.

“honey! you’re home!” he says, looking mostly at the papers in his hand as you straightened up much to the protest of your body, trying to seem like you had not been stabbed maybe 15 minutes ago.

“i- yup!” you responded, your voice tight as you tried to cover your wound with your hand. you moved your jacket over it so that it couldn’t be seen either. lucifer looked up at you as his eye squinted at you. 

“are you all right?” he asks, coming closer to you, his focus on those papers in his hand all but forgotten. 

“i-i’m fine, luce.” you smile, it not reaching your eyes though. you clear your throat, looking off the left, trying to figure out a way to stop him from really observing you. “i know you said you wanted to show me those new plans for the hotel, let’s go check them out!” you say, changing the subject. hoping that worked. you didn’t want to worry him, nor tell him why you were hurt.

“okay…” he says drawing out the word and then motioning for you to follow him. you start walking behind him, every footstep jostling you and causing your wound to bleed even more, when you reached the three stairs to his study. he crossed them easily but you stepped up on the one and gasped, feeling searing pain in your side. your hand coming out to hold the wall so you didn’t fall. your breath rushing in and out of you like you had ran a race, as your head swam, your body loosing more blood. you see the red substance drip from your hand and watch it fall to the floor, blending into the red carpet. you look up and see lucifer standing there, his eyes wide. 

“what the fuck happened?” he cries, going to you and lifting you up, your hand falling from your wound and your jacket falling back, showing the slice through your shirt. he quickly makes a portal and gets you to your shared room. he gently lays you down on the bed, and dashes off to get some gauze. you try to get off the bed not wanting to ruin the sheets. he comes back to you flailing, trying to get up and pushes you back down, looking at you like you had completely lost it.

“the sheets…” you murmur, coughing and wiping your hand away seeing blood. “oh no.” you whisper and his eyes widen. he throws the gauze away and places his hands on your stomach.

“why didn't you tell me immediately?" he cries, shaking his head looking distraught. "i’m going to heal you, just... stay still.” he says closing his eyes. you grab his hand with the strength you had, though you felt all the strength in your body seemingly being siphoned just by laying on the bed. he looks at you, his eyes wide.

“it hurts you.” you say. 

“don’t care.” he says, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. before you can argue again, his hands glow gold and you body starts stitching itself up, cell by cell, inch by inch. you can feel it all. you cry out as lucifer healing you seems to go on forever. the few minutes it takes seems like hours, as your mind swims through a sea of pain and exhaustion. finally the golden glow subsides and lucifer drops to his knees next to you. you grab his hand as he rests his head against you. both of you trying to recover. you can barely keep your eyes open feeling them closing. you drift off to a dreamless sleep, almost like your body forcing you to rest. 

when you wake next you sit up quickly, looking around the dark room trying to find lucifer. your breath coming in short pants as you can't see anything but the darkness in the room.

“luce?” you ask, your voice hoarse and then you look next to you. lucifer was sleeping close by you. you sigh out in relief as you lay back down and brush his hair back from his eyes, kissing his forehead. “you saved me, again.” you murmur, gently resting your hand on his cheek, resting your forehead against his. his eyes open slowly.

“i’ll always be there to do so.” he smiles and sits up. 

“i’m sorry i woke you up.” you said as he turned to you, drawing you to him and situating you to straddle his lap. clutching you close.

“i was so scared.” he whispered, not like he was asleep just a moment ago.

“i’m sorry.” you respond back. your head slotting in between his shoulder and neck. he lets you rest there for a moment and then pulls you back to look at you.

“who did this to you?” he asks, his eyes steely as he cupped your face gently. you shook your head not wanting to say. “darling, who did this?” he asked, the tone of his voice sharper and more impatient.

“i-“ tears start running down your face. “you’re going to be so upset… and i don’t want you to be. i don’t want.. you to pull away from me again. it’ll make you do that and i can’t bare that lucifer. i just-“ you start talking quickly, your breaths coming quick as you hold on to his shoulders, looking into his eyes even as tears pour from yours. lucifer’s eyes widen and his eyes are misty seeing how upset you are. 

“i won’t. i promise you. i won't pull away, regardless of what you tell me. but i need to know who did this to you. tell me. now.” lucifer says, his voice firm. 

“i-they were masked. they looked like sharks?” you phrased the last statement as a question. “they cornered me in an alley and said that i needed to take a message to lucifer. that they knew how to get to you, and they could use me to do that and you needed to give them what they asked for.” you said as you recounted the tale with your eyes closed. you opened them when you felt lucifer’s claws digging into your hips. you saw his eyes had turned red and his horns were fully out. 

“and they stabbed you?” he ground out. you nodded. "that was their message?" you nodded again.

"that if you didn't do what they asked, they would hurt me." you explain, realizing near the end of the explanation that it probably wasn't needed. his eyes darkened as you spoke, and he moved you gently onto your side of the bed. he took a deep breath as he got up. he gently petted your hair and helped you lay down, his horns no longer out, but his eyes bright red.

“where are you going?” you asked, already knowing the answer.

“out. i’ll be back all right. stay here and go to sleep, you need it. i’ll be right back.” he says, a steely resolve in his eyes, and a gentle smile on his face. you nodded as your eyes felt heavy and fell asleep before lucifer even reached the door to leave. he straightened his jacket and walked down the hall. he had important work to take care of as he created a portal and stepped through it.

#hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor x reader #alastor altruist #alastor/reader #hazbin hotel alastor x reader #alastor hazbin #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin lucifer #lucifer/reader #lucifer x reader #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #hazbin lucifer x reader

[ellemj]

Candy Cane: 12 Days of Smut #4

Bucky Barnes x Reader One-Shot

Warnings: profanity, stuck in an elevator, mentions of death, teasing, oral sex (male receiving), face fucking, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!

Feel free to comment and let me know if this requires any other warnings.

Word Count: 3.4k

A/N: I usually hate everything I write but this sure felt like some good shit while I was writing it. Hopefully it feels the same for whoever may read it. Thank you sooo much to @mashedpotatooooos for this beyond perfect prompt, as soon as she submitted it to me I was SCREAMING. So creative, so inspirational, thank you for feeding me with this brilliant idea.

A fucking candy cane. A fucking peppermint treat from the 1840s. That’s what’s going to be the Winter Soldier’s undoing? No. Really, it’s you. It’s the way you’re sucking on the damn thing. The way you’re wrapping your lips around it so sensually, savoring the taste with an innocent little gleam in your eye. That’s what’s going to kill him. He’s had enough.

            The sound of a chair scraping along the hard floor breaks you out of your trance. Pulling your half-finished candy cane out of your mouth, you lift your gaze and look across the room to see Bucky silently disappearing down the hallway. God, he’s moody today.

            “I bet that’s why they called him the Winter Soldier.” Sam scoffs. You raise an eyebrow at him as you resume your work on the candy cane. “Because his mood is always so damn icy.”

            “That’s cute.” You say, refusing to dignify his bad joke with a laugh, although you have to admit, it was kind of funny. He’s right though, Bucky’s been a little extra moody this week. You’re not really surprised that he’d be someone who hates Christmas, it’s very on brand for him. It’s only three days away now and he hasn’t said a thing about it. The rest of you have been watching Christmas movies, having hot cocoa way too often, and at the very least pretending to be festive most days. But Bucky’s been staying in his room excessively more and frowning enough to end up on Santa’s naughty list. Something’s up with him. You’d have already asked what was wrong with him if you weren’t so annoyed at his inability to spit it out unprompted. The man is over a hundred years old but still has the communication skills of a teenager.

            Only a few hours later, Bucky’s just finished up taking his frustrations out in the gym when you’re coming back from a run to the grocery store. You needed a few ingredients for the Christmas cookies you plan on baking tomorrow and there’s no better time to hit the grocery store than at night.  Of course, just as you’re coming inside the tower, you see the elevator doors sliding shut. You rush forward, throwing your hand out to hold the elevator. Bucky lets out an audible sigh when he sees you step into the small space. He thinks about darting back out before the doors close both of you in, but he knows he’d have to explain himself if he did something that childish. So, he remains.

            Bucky keeps his gaze trained on the screen above the doors, watching as it slowly counts each floor that you’re carried past. You, on the other hand, keep your eyes trained on him. He’s clearly just come from the gym, as evidenced by his dark athletic shorts and sweaty t-shirt. He doesn’t wear short sleeves often, so you take the rare moment to steal a look at his black and gold arm. That’s when he finally decides to give you a sideways glance. You’re just about to break the unusual silence by saying whatever pops into your mind first when the sound of grinding metal fills the air. You don’t even have a moment to brace yourself before the elevator practically skids to a screeching halt and throws you and your bag of Christmas ingredients sideways into one of the walls. You closed your eyes on impact, and when you blink them open again, you’re thrust into darkness. The power must’ve gone out. After just a couple of seconds, the very dim emergency lights kick on and you straighten yourself up, stepping away from the wall and trying to fully comprehend the situation that you’re in. Bucky’s analyzing you as you stand there, staring straight ahead in thought. You don’t look to be injured or very frightened that you’re trapped in such a small space, so he feels it’s safe to say that you’re not claustrophobic.

            “The button to call the fire department isn’t even lighting up.” You say quietly, more to yourself than to the super soldier who stands a foot to your right. That means you’ll have to try your phones, and if those don’t work then you’ll be trapped in here until someone realizes that you and Bucky have been missing for too long.

            “I’ll call Sam.” Bucky fishes his phone out of the waistband of his shorts and quickly types in his passcode, easily finding Sam’s contact since it’s one of the very few that he has saved. He’s just about to hit the button to put the call through when he notices the top of his phone displays a “no signal” alert. Shit. “No service.”

            “Of course, no fire department and no phone service.” There’s a hint of nervousness creeping into your voice but you try your best to tamp it down. “W-what floor were we on before it stopped?” You know Bucky was watching the floor counter.

            “Fourteen.” Suddenly, you can picture the elevator plummeting all the way down to the ground floor, killing you both on impact. However, the more rational side of your brain reminds you that elevators have emergency braking systems specifically designed to keep something like that from happening. You inhale a shaky breath and try to come up with at least a semblance of a plan in your mind, something to keep you from thinking too much about how you’re trapped so high above the ground in a little metal box. Bucky watches you closely as you move to sit on the floor, letting your back rest against the back wall and drawing your knees up to your chest. You begin rummaging through your little grocery bag and when your hand wraps around what you were searching for, you pull it out and begin opening the small package. Even in the dim light, Bucky can tell exactly what it is. Fucking candy canes.

            “Do you want one?” You hold one out to Bucky but he gives you an almost displeased look as he shakes his head, staring down at the candy cane in your hand with disdain. So, not only does Bucky Barnes hate Christmas, but he even hates the most basic Christmas candy. You almost laugh to yourself at how ridiculous he is. He’s turning out to be an actual scrooge.

            “Fine, more for me.” You unwrap the candy cane and lift it to your mouth, beginning to suck on the straight end of it. You’re not paying Bucky any attention now, so you don’t notice the way his jaw clenches and he averts his gaze as soon as the candy hits your tongue. He remains standing but leans back against the elevator wall, hoping the cold metal against his sweaty t-shirt might have the same effect as a cold shower.

It doesn’t.

Two minutes later, you’re still quietly working on your candy cane while Bucky has gone absolutely rigid. He has the back of his head pressed against the wall now and he stares up at the ceiling actually wishing that the emergency brakes would fail and the elevator would go crashing down to put him out of his misery. Why does it take you so long to eat those damn things? And how the hell do you not realize what you’re doing? Are you that naïve?

“Are you okay, Bucky?” Your voice is the last thing he wants to hear. He doesn’t even make a move to look down at you, because the fact that you’re already on the floor at the level of his dick and the fact that he knows what you look like when you’re sucking on something you really like will only make this situation that much worse. His cock is already fully erect in his thin athletic shorts, painfully so. The only reason you haven’t noticed yet is because you’ve been distracting yourself with your little snack and because Bucky’s shorts are so dark.

“Fine.” He croaks the single syllable out in just the right way to let you know that he is in fact, not fine.

“Okay, what is it?” You demand to know. Did Tony skimp on having emergency brakes installed and Bucky knows your death is imminent? Is the big scary man secretly afraid of heights or small spaces? “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I said I’m fine.” Bucky repeats the words through clenched teeth. Who would’ve known that such a private man would be such a bad liar? You push yourself up off the floor now and stand to your feet, turning to face him head-on. You’re just about to threaten to stab him with your little candy cane remnant when your eyes land on what it is that’s got him so worked up. The bulge in the front of his shorts is on full display, pulling the seams of the fabric so tight that you imagine Bucky’s incredibly uncomfortable right now. But…why would he be so turned on in such a shitty situation? Is it the fear? The adrenaline?

“Bucky—”

“Stop fucking talking.” He cuts you off sharply, finally snapping his eyes open and meeting your gaze. Even in the dim lighting, you can see the frustration painted over his features.

“No, tell me what’s up with you.”

“We’re stuck in an elevator.” He says plainly, closing his eyes once more. He really does suck at communicating. Obviously, you can see that he’s aroused. He knows that you can see it, but he’s still standing here in front of you pretending like he isn’t. As you stare at the stubborn ass that you’ve just barely come to know over the past year, all you can think about is getting on your knees and sucking the bad attitude right out of him. Maybe that’s what he needs. He clearly needs something. However, the fact that he won’t simply speak his mind and instead chooses to act like a moody fifteen-year-old most of the time still irks you. You want him to open his damn mouth and speak.

“Look at me.” Your voice is so calm and even that Bucky immediately wonders what you’re up to, but he doesn’t open his eyes. You take two steps so you’re standing right in front of him, and then you repeat yourself. “Bucky, look at me.”

“What part of stop fucking talking doesn’t make sense to you?” He snaps, opening his eyes. When his gaze meets your face, he’s met with the sight of you, dragging your tongue along the side of that damn candy cane and he nearly cums right there. He’s thankful that you can’t have possibly seen the way his cock practically jumped in his shorts when his eyes landed on your tongue.

“It’s the part where you think you can mope around here constantly and treat people like shit that doesn’t make sense to me.” You suckle on the end of your candy cane for a short second before pulling it back out of your mouth and adding one bold part to your little tiff. “It’s also the fact that you’re standing here with a hard dick while simultaneously acting like you can’t stand me. That really doesn’t make sense to me.”

Bucky lets out a sound of annoyance at the way you’re matching his attitude. He’s especially annoyed that you actually mentioned his dick, but he’s a lot more focused on fighting the urge to reach out and snap your precious candy cane into a thousand tiny pieces. You see the way his eyes keep flitting to your mouth as you enjoy your candy. Honestly, once you see the look in his eyes and pair that with the huge tent in his shorts, you don’t know how you didn’t put it together before. Maybe it’s because you fear you could die in this elevator, or maybe it’s because you’ve always sort of wanted to know what it’d be like to have such a strong effect on a man like Bucky, but an idea pops into your head that you just can’t seem to shake. You want to make him tell you what he wants. You want to force him to communicate with you, and then you want to reward him with everything he needs. Besides just being an irresistibly hot idea, it’s also a sure way to keep you from thinking about the elevator plunging into the basement at any given moment. You both need this.

That’s what leads you to sink down to your knees at Bucky’s feet. He thinks he’s hallucinating at first, but when he hears your light little laugh as you pop the candy cane back into your mouth, he knows it’s real. Your pretty eyes stare right back up at him as you slowly pull the candy cane out of your mouth, keeping your lips pressed tightly around it.

“Fuck…” Bucky mutters, screwing his eyes shut tightly as he feels a fresh wave of heat rush through his body. You haven’t even touched him yet he feels like he could have an orgasm on the spot. “Don’t do that.”

“Why not? You don’t like this?” You tease. You push the candy cane past your lips once more but he’s refusing to look down at you, so you take matters into your own hands. You hold the candy cane with your left hand while your right hand lands lighly on Bucky’s thigh, dangerously close to where he needs your touch the most. He inhales sharply and snaps his head forward to look down at you again. “Tell me what you need and I’ll give it to you.”

“I need you to stop with the candy canes.” He says harshly, giving you an icy stare. You laugh, but you can’t deny that he actually communicated something. So, you remove your hand from his thigh and fix the wrapper around your candy cane as good as you can before leaning over to drop it back in your grocery bag.

“Was that so hard?” You ask, returning to your position on your knees at his feet. He lets out an exasperated sigh, wondering why the hell you’re not getting back up.

“Are you going to stay down there until the elevator starts up again?” He narrows his eyes at you. You shrug your shoulders.

“Until the elevator starts up again or until you tell me what you really need, whichever comes first I guess.”

“I told you already.”

“Right, but that wasn’t all you needed.” You point out. He watches as your eyes leave his face and coast down his neck and torso, until your gaze lands on the taut fabric of his shorts. You’re perfectly eye level with his hard-on and it’s not making this situation any easier on him. He feels his cock twitch again from the way you’re looking at him. He weighs his options in his head. How bad would it be for him to cross this line? To tell you how badly he needs you to suck his cock the way you’ve been sucking those candy canes the last couple of days? It couldn’t possibly be that bad if you’re already on your knees offering it. If anything, he can at least feel better knowing you crossed a line first. Besides, what if you two never make it out of here? He knows you will, people get stuck in elevators all the time and you rarely hear about it killing people. But, what if? He can’t deny himself this potentially one, final pleasure.

So, Bucky learns to communicate.

“Fix the problem you created.” Bucky’s stare is cold and calloused, but the way his chest rises and falls at a quickened pace and the way his pupils dilate as he looks down at you makes you feel powerful. You test the waters, sliding your palms from his knees up his thighs and then curling your fingertips beneath the waistband of both his shorts and boxers. He remains focused on you, not giving you indication that he wants you to stop. So, you tug his shorts and boxers down until his cock springs free, nearly slapping against his lower stomach as your drop his shorts to his feet. Your eyes are glued to his impressive length, taking in the way precum is beginning to drip down his shaft and the way his balls look so full and heavy between his legs. He’s growing impatient, wondering if you plan to sit there and stare at it or do what you really want to do to it. He’s just about to showcase his impatience with you when you reach up and wrap your right hand firmly around his cock, holding it with just the right amount of grip as you give it one long stroke from the base to the tip. You tighten your fist around the head and let his precum lubricate your palm before stroking back down to the base and spreading the wetness around his shaft. The way his head falls back against the wall makes you feel high. You like having this kind of power over him. You wonder how much more power you might have if you used your mouth, but why wonder? Leaning forward, you continue stroking his cock with your right hand while you plant your left hand on his thigh and press your lips to the tip.

“Shit.”  The curse falls from his lips so freely that you can’t stop yourself. The next thing you know, his cock is sliding past your lips and the tip is brushing against the back of your throat as you nearly fully deepthroat his entire length. You only have an inch left to go but you aren’t sure you can fit it all. Bucky looks down and sees your hesitation. He knows he should’ve restrained himself. He knows he should’ve let you take this at your own pace, but he needed it. He needed to feel your throat tighten around his cock. He needed to see how fucking pretty you’d look with every inch of him in your mouth. So, Bucky gently placed his right hand on the back of your head and applied a little pressure. Just enough pressure to make you swallow the rest of his cock. As soon as he felt your nose brushing against his skin, he pulled you back by your hair. His eyes roam over your face now, checking in to see if you’re okay. Your eyes are wide but your pupils are blown with lust. Not only are you okay, but you’re on cloud fucking nine. With the tip of his cock still in your mouth, you nod up at him, letting him know it’s okay to do it again.

Bucky guides his cock into your mouth again, pulling your head closer and closer to him until he feels your throat tighten as you gag around his length. When he tries to pull you away this time, you grip both of his thighs and stare up at him so hungrily that he groans at the sight. You don’t want him to go easy on you, you want him to take what he needs. It’s only a second later that Bucky puts both of his hands on your head and holds you firmly in place as he begins thrusting his cock into your mouth. He’s slow and careful at first, trying not to give you more than you can handle. But the first time you moan around his shaft, slow and careful goes out the window. He fucks your throat, letting his balls rap against your chin with every deep thrust. The obscene sounds and the way you fight to maintain eye contact with him sends him straight to the edge of his release so much sooner than he expected.

“I’m gonna cum.” He rasps, praying that you won’t want him to pull out. Although, he could easily picture himself cumming all over your pretty face. Your only response is to grip onto his thighs even tighter while you look up at him so submissively. That’s all it takes. Bucky gives your mouth one more thrust and then holds your head in place, with your lips wrapped tightly around the base of his cock. You feel every drop of cum as it trickles onto your tongue and down your throat. After a few more seconds, Bucky releases your head and watches as you sit back on your knees, swallowing everything that he gave you. When you lick your lips he swears he could go for round two already.

“That was so much better than a candy cane, Bucky.”

TAG LIST: @gyokujyn @mrsjoequinn @thealloveru2 @nixxaswrld @ordelixx @sweettae02 @frombkjar @hellfirebabe @edelweissbarnes @claireelizabeth85 @fandomsfeminismandme @sunnyhummingbee @jenniferpendragon @siciliano13 @crist1216 @wlkdead

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #mcu #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x you #marvel #the winter soldier #winter soldier #12 days of smut

[trashogram]

He Chose You (Pt. 3)

Lucifer/Reader - Lucifer decides that you are the perfect person to be his baby mama.

Rated E, but the smut has been delayed due to personal matters. I apologize! Still not for kiddos though.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11

“Hello there!”

Teeth. 

This man in your apartment — 

‘He was a duck. A fucking duck and now he’s a man. Oh my fucking god what the fucking fuck.’ 

                                                 — had shark teeth. 

If you’d had better control of your faculties — if you were capable of doing anything more than staring airily with mouth agape — you would’ve screamed bloody murder.

Instead, you sat there, unable to move and quickly succumbing to a sensation you could only described as detachment. 

His pointy smile gleamed despite the darkness. His whole person appeared to glow, in fact, giving you a clear view of his demonic approximation of a man in what could only be described as circus attire. 

You stared.

There was silence. The expression on his face fell slowly, showman’s smile melting until it barely lingered on his pallid face.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to get loud, heh.” The man-creature adopted an inside voice. “Hello.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you. I mean we’ve met before, obviously, but it’s nice to be able to meet you as me a-and you as you!”

The blond cleared his throat. Enthusiasm in full force as he pulled a cane out of behind his back and spread his arms out wide. 

“Allow me to introduce myself! I am Lucifer Morningstar! King of Hell… and I am at your service, my lady.”

Lucifer bowed until his strangely nose-less face just about touched the floor. 

“… King of Hell…?” Your voice came out steadier than you thought it would. “You’re… Satan?”

“Ah-ha, ha, that’s a common misconception. Satan is actually a friend of mine!” Lucifer sprung up, pleased as punch to hear you finally speak. “People have called me a ton of different names; that’s what happens when you’ve been around for like, ever. It all gets jumbled and lost in translation. Like that game! Telephone!”

“Wait, no.” He snapped his fingers together a few times. “Is that…? No that’s not it. It’s, it’s, ah shit.”

“No, you’re right.” You replied mildly. ”It’s Telephone.”

Lucifer’s eyes lit up like firecrackers. He moved closer to you, step by step, while excitement squared his shoulders. 

“So, are you taking me to hell now?” Your flippant question stopped him dead. 

“Wait, what?” His shock snapped into nervous laughter. 

Your eyes rolled up to the ceiling contemplatively. “I didn’t think I was special enough to be brought down by the Devil himself.” 

“No! No, no, no, no, no!” Lucifer waved his arms frantically. “I’m not! You’re not! I would never!”

“I’m flattered. You didn’t have to come all this way, you know.”

“Hell is for sinners not — not for you!” The very real panic on his face was amusing to some part of your hindbrain as you stared back at him airily. “You’re - you don’t deserve to go to Hell. Ever!”

“… Why?”

Lucifer’s shoulders shook, eyes still bugging out of his skull before he took a deep breath and exhaled shakily. If you didn’t know any better, you’d swear he was on the verge of a panic attack. 

“Well, because! Because you-uuu are a good person. Good people go to…” He inhaled deeply and exhaled shakily. “H-heaven.” 

You humored him with a smile, a kernel of pity lodged in your heart. It made sense that the Devil would hesitate before even naming Heaven. 

“No,” You course-corrected gently. “Why are you here?”

“Oh! Okay, yeah that. Great question! Thank you for asking!” The man-thing cartoonishly wiped at his brow, a silent ‘phew’ following. “I just wanted to, um…” 

Black gloves gesture wildly like Lucifer was fishing for words out of the air. 

“Ahh, I guess? The short answer is that I just wanted to meet you.” He smiled sheepishly. 

Your face felt numb, but you imagined that he could make out the want to raise your eyebrow questioningly from the blazé energy you were exuding. 

“See, actually, I’ve been meaning to introduce myself for days. You were moving in and I saw you and I wanted to say hello because you looked… ”

Fang-like teeth bit into his lower lip as Lucifer eyes darted to your form. That sheepish look had morphed into a mortified one when he could no longer make eye contact with you. 

“You looked like a ve-ery nice, helpful person and I thought to myself ‘gee, I don’t get to talk to a lot of nice, helpful people often — being as I am the ruler of Hell, and that’s not the nicest place around, right? Hah — so why not stop by and see if this person would be willing to talk to me?’” 

The cane in his gloved hands tapped against one palm impatiently, a shiny red apple glinting at the top. 

“Well, I, I mean that’s what I wanted to do when you first got here…” He trailed off with uncertainty. 

“But I just… I just kept fucking it up!” Lucifer knocked a fist against his face as if to say ‘stupid! stupid!’. “Every time I come up to knock on your door, I start thinking about all the ways it could go wrong and then I’d start getting antsy and I didn’t wanna freak you out!”

The Devil raked a hand through his platinum-blond hair. 

“I was just so afraid you’d run away screaming.” He sighed. “Which, while I thought that would be the worst case scenario, made a little more sense than right now with you taking this whole thing exceptionally well.” 

“Hmm,” You hummed, turning his words over in your mind. “Well I can’t run away, but I’m definitely screaming internally, if that’s helpful?”

Lucifer had the nerve to pout at your deadpan statement. 

“Maybe whatever you gave me at dinner caused a bad reaction?” You suggested. 

“Oh no. Well, maybe. I mean — I didn’t give that stuff to you. This was their idea.”

A bit of feeling was returning to your nose, and you could feel it scrunch up in confusion. “Your friends wanted to drug me?”

“My frie — Hah! Oh no, sweetie those aren’t my friends! Well, I mean they’ve let me crash at their place when I’m up topside, but that’s all part of our little agreement.” 

“Your agreement to-oo provide them with joy and laughter in their golden years as a pet duck?”

Lucifer guffawed loudly. “Oho! You are — that was funny! Hah, funny, kind, pretty, you’re the whole shebang aren’t ya?! — I knew picking you was the right move!”

‘Picking me?’ That got you to tilt your head with some effort, mouth opening to ask just that.

“Aha no, actually.” Lucifer cut you off. “That’s the other thing I was going to mention. I wasn’t gonna bring it up until a little while later, after we got to know each other.” 

Before you knew it, Lucifer had scuttled to your side and was sitting on the edge of the couch beside you, propping up the side of his head on one arm against the back. 

“Now’s as good a time as any.” You replied serenely. If you could shrug, you would’ve. 

Lucifer frowned while patterns into the couch cushion. “I wish I knew why you’re so darn agreeable. I mean, I love it! Makes this so much easier. But it’s also a little… weird.” 

You shifted to better face the Prince of Darkness, feeling a tingling sensation along one side. “I find it’s best to go with the flow during dreams. When I question things, they’re more likely to change into nightmares.” 

“Wh… what?” Your companion flinched back like you’d smacked him in the face. “You think this is a dream?”

“What else could it be?” Came your nonchalant response. “It’s either that or a hallucination from the drugs. I wouldn’t know, I don’t usually partake. But I’m pretty sure I fell asleep after my neighbors brought me back to my room, so I’m leaning toward that.”

The devil remained silent, that earlier expression of mortification making a comeback, as well as a slow-growing horror that made the unusually red spots on his cheeks drain down to pink. 

“No, no I’m not… I’m not a dream! This is real! I’m real!” Lucifer lurched forward suddenly, hands hovering centimeters from your lifeless arm. 

He swallowed thickly, making a decision in real time to peel off his glove and reach out to you with alabaster fingers. 

“See?” He asked softly, brushed against your shoulder down to your forearm with cautious claws. 

The nerve endings in your body had been waking up throughout your conversation with Not-Satan, but felt unusually sharp as his nails grazed your flesh. Lucifer’s hand was smoother than smooth, and cold like a glass window in winter. It was as if he were made of porcelain, solid yet fragile. 

And yet you felt a burgeoning warmth when he took hold of your hand. There was a faint heat coming from beneath his skin; a candle still burning somewhere beneath layers and layers of ice. 

You shivered violently, body and mind syncing as you both rejected and sought that impossible sensation. 

Lucifer, meanwhile, was staring at your hand in his, fingers entwined. He marveled at the image, hope blossoming from within, after an eternity of being grounded. 

Just to touch you, to be near you and bask in your body heat and the presence of your soul did wonders. 

“This is no dream. This is really happening.” He repeated softly. 

———————— Tag List:

@crescent-z, @for-hearthand-home, @undertale-is-sansational, @loslox, @navierkalani, @yaimlight, @ivoryviness, @crystalplays28, @flowerempress, @wally-darling-hyperfixation, @altruisticradiodemon, @moonlight-readings, @halparkebitch

#hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel x reader #lucifer morningstar #lucifer x reader

[angelltheninth]

Lesson Learned

Pairing: Professor!Viktor x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, classroom sex, orgasm control, desk sex, almost getting caught, dirty talk, secret relationship, co-workers, teasing, fingering, sexy lingerie

Word count: 1.6k

A/N: Part of my 15k follower event! The prompt for this one was 'Viktor + Professor AU', which had my brain going ever since I saw it. It makes sense in canon too, I think he would have made a great professor. I don't know how this got lost in my drafts for so long cause it's been done for a loooong time lmao, my bad everyone!

Many people argued that Viktor worked too much, he would argue that he didn't work hard enough. He's seen many brilliant minds get let down by the Academy, his friend Jayce once among them. Which is why he decided to become a professor, to nurture and encourage new people of any background not to give up. He very well loved amongst his students because of this.

"You're certainly popular." You looked over all the letters and flowers on his desk. "I think you got more of this than any professor today."

"Sounds like someone's jealous of me." Viktor moved the papers off his desk after looking over dozens maybe over a hundred letters today. "Is it me or the students you're jealous of?" He smirked when he saw how you were looking at the flowers.

You plucked one from the bouquet and threw it in his general direction. He heaved forward and caught it just before it hit the ground. You thought he was gonna put it back but instead he offered it forward.

"For you." You rolled your eyes at his gesture but you did accept it. He was sweet even when he was tired. "Am I the last one here?"

"No there's a few more professors tonight. Since it's exam season everyone's been working double time. Or I guess normal time for you." It was written all over his face, the tired smiles, the way too many cups of coffee he drank, the half-eaten lunches that he would only finish when the work day was over. "Do you still have papers to grade? I'll help you out."

"There's only a few more. Shouldn't take more than an hour so I can finish that tomorrow." Viktor walked over to the classroom door and shut the blinds before turning the lock. The clock sent a shiver down your spine and a pleasant throbbing in your lower belly. "I've been meaning to ask you, what's the real reason you came here tonight?"

"What do you mean? To see you." Viktor didn't buy that excuse. He walked behind you, his cane thumping a little harder on the floor then moments before.

He placed the flowers and his suitcase with the letters and the exams beside the desk and patted his hand on the now empty surface. You started to turn around so you could take a seat but he tapped the desk with his cane in warning, a series of quick taps that made your body respond and your cheeks flush. "How?" You asked with a shaky breath.

"Bend over first. I want to see what you have on for me." Oh. Well then he's not gonna be disappointed at all. You felt his slim fingers rubbing your thigh up and down, pulling your dress up over your hips and then tracing the dark red edge of your panties. "This all for stress release? You really do go above and beyond for me. And you had this on all day?"

"Not all day. I changed when my classes ended." You're bold but not bold enough to wear crochless underwear all day.

"You wanted me to have ease of access, how nice of you." His fingers plunged into your pussy, "No resistance? Darling, you were horny long before you stepped foot in here weren't you?"

You clenched your cunt around his fingers when you felt them all the way inside you. Viktor moved them quickly, way quicker then he could move his hips, way harder too, giving you the hard fucking he knew you craved with your whole being. Otherwise you wouldn't have worn this sexy little thing. "I was just thinking about you. This is how wet you make me. It's a real problem don't you think?" Viktor hummed in agreement and curled his fingers upwards, "And when you have a problem you talk to one of the best professors in the Academy. Simple as that. I'm surprised you couldn't figure that out."

Viktor stepped forward, pressing his bulge against your wetness, his hands on desk as he let his cane lean against the corner of the said desk. "It is a real problem. One can't have his girlfriend walking around, dripping wet like payed for whore. Just because no one knows that we're fucking doesn't mean you can get away with behaving like this." Moments after he stepped away from you there was a very familiar sign of a zipper followed by the even more familiar push of his cockhead against your throbbing pussy.

He kept you tightly pressed against the desk and himself, teasing you without entering. This stillness seemed to go on for a while. When you tried to push further against him to take more of his cock he pushed you harder against the desk.

"Come like this. With just my tip inside." You knew he could feel your walls flutter against him, could feel you drip down his cock and onto the floor. "What's the matter? I thought you wanted me to fix your problem."

"If this is how you fix problems I'm questioning your credentials." One of his hands pushed against your shoulder, all the way down onto the desk so when you turned your head you looked at his name tag on the desk, reminding you that you were in his classroom, you had to follow his rules. When he was in your classroom did the same, moaning and holding off on finishing through all your teasing and pussyjobs.

The hand that pushed you down was now back on your hip, making sure you don't go anywhere. He still didn't move or show any intent of sinking in deeper, no matter how tempting your warm, wet cunt was. You wanted all of him not just the tip, his whole cock, fucking you like you wanted, how you craved it. But for that to happen you knew what your task was, you knew you had to come.

So you let your imagination run wild, think back to another time when you were in here, but then he was back down on the floor and you on top of him, he had his hands on your tits, pinching your nipples as he held your legs open with his and wildly thrust his cock in and out of your pussy. He got in so deep then, very different from now, he had no self control over his pace despite how his leg protested, all he cared about was your moans above him and the sloshing wet sounds your sloppy cunt made for him.

"Must be good. Whatever you're thinking of. Your cunt is getting so tight." He finally pushed back a little more but just as fast as he did he pulled back to just the tip.

"The last time we were in here." You felt his cock twitch. Almost there, you were so close to getting what you wanted.

"An interesting choice. Did you like me underneath you then? Did you like me being that deep inside you? I believe your exact words were 'balls deep' weren't they?" They were and you wanted it again. You wanted it so bad, you could almost feel it, you could come just from that memory.

As your pussy started to clench around you and your orgasm flow through your body Viktor pushed in the whole way, catching the very start of your orgasm, filling your begging cunt with his cock. You moaned at the feeling of his cock twitching inside you as you came, encouraging Viktor to finally start thrusting back and forth fucking your orgasm out of you.

It wasn't as fast as with his fingers earlier but it didn't have to be. "Shut up." You whimpered, unable to fulfil his command this time, "No seriously darling, shut up."

Your eyes finally focused enough to see a shadow approaching the door. Since you couldn't stop making sounds you placed both hands over your mouth and Viktor leaned forward over your body, his hands digging into the desk.

"Professor Viktor? Are you still working sir?" Asked the person behind the door.

"Yes, very late night, lots to do. But don't worry, something tells me I'm about to finish fast." You heard him laugh behind you then hum when he sunk in all the way, "Really soon."

"Well... alright then, just remember to lock up when you're done. See you tomorrow Professor." With every further step Viktor got rougher, his breath coming out short against your moans. You're not sure your orgasm ever stopped through all of this.

"So naughty. Coming around my cock while I'm talking to a colleague of ours. At least I had the decency to wait until they left." The heavy Academy door shut close in the distance and your moan finally echoed around the classroom again, mixing with Viktor's, jets of his sticky cum painting the inside of your pussy. It was a good thing he wasn't too heavy, you didn't mind him laying over you to catch his breath, you needed it too. "Did that solve your problem, Professor?"

You nodded. "For now. But I might need it again when we get back home. And speaking of problems I think you may have made another one for me." You could almost hear the gears in his head turning, trying to figure it out, "I need you to go get my underwear. I can't walk home... dripping everywhere."

"Oh! Of course I will. Right away." He debated on that statement when he heard the way you moaned as he pulled out. Viktor stumbled a little as he put his pants back on and picked his cane back up and kissed your cheek before starting to walk out the door.

As you stretched your body you caught glimpse of the flower he gave you earlier. "Okay, maybe I was a little jealous."

#arcane #arcane x reader #viktor #viktor x reader #viktor x you #arcane viktor x reader #arcane imagine #arcane fanfic #arcane smut #viktor arcane x reader #league of leguends #league of legends x reader #league of legends smut #league of legends imagine #league of legends fanfiction #15k event

[florencemtrash]

The Artificer: Part III - Azriel x Reader

Warnings: More torture, violence, and death

✨Based on this ask ✨

Masterlist of Masterlists

But… memories of you rose higher than his nightmares... Memories of your gentle hands caressing every one of his scars reminding him what it meant to be gentle. Memories of your hands grasping at his back, nails scraping down and reminding him what it meant to be strong. 

Azriel kept close to the walls, feeling his boots sink into the soft soil that tinged the air with dampness and the heavy weight of decomposition. It was a miracle the walls didn’t crumple in on themselves, propped up by some magic that allowed the tunnels to sink deeper and deeper beneath the hill like they were sliding down an animal’s throat.

Azriel’s knees remained loosely bent, poised to pounce, fingers drumming against the hilt of Sunseeker in one hand and Truth Teller in the other. 

He hated this kind of darkness. It didn’t taste of freedom like the crisp, clean winds of the night sky did. It tasted like a torturous childhood and the film of medicine that had never been enough to heal his hands. He bristled with every flicker of torchlight that waved dangerously close to his face, casting a warmth and light that was just a little too hot and a little too harsh. 

Even Eris, who’d been born in flame and heat, seemed unnerved by the slithering tunnels that burrowed beneath the hill. But maybe that’s because he was unnerved by the dark Shadowsinger that walked five paces ahead and the equally imposing Illyrian that followed five steps behind. 

Eris ran through calculations in his head, sifting through the probabilities that they would all die here, and how, and in what order. His lips flattened. He didn’t like his odds. But there was still a sliver of hope that he would defy all the poor cards he’d been dealt and end up on top. Even if it took some manipulation and careful maneuvering… starting with taking advantage of the Shadowsinger’s obvious care for you. 

It was clear from the tightness in the Shadowsinger’s shoulders that he was still reigning in the fury he’d displayed outside, and Eris only hoped it would be properly redirected towards a more deserving figure when the time arose. 

Azriel didn’t hide the breath of relief that exited his body when the tunnels gave way to a larger cavern. Moss and ferns dripped from the ceiling, clinging on to strips of exposed stone overhead. Here he could stretch his wings and fly if necessary. But the relief of that knowledge quickly died out when the stench of your blood hit him. 

Cells, dank and grimy, were carved out of the walls, wandering bodies trapped behind like offerings to an ancient god. But that wasn’t where Azriel’s focus was. No. His eyes were focused on the single cell in the center of the room with only a thick, metal grate for an opening… and the High Lord leaning over with a crooked smile on his face.

Cassian swore, whirling upon Eris like a crack of thunder ready to break. The fucker hadn’t warned them that his father would be here tonight. Maybe he hadn’t known. Cassian might have been willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. But that disappeared the moment his eyes fell on the empty space between them. The Lordling had slipped away when their attention was elsewhere, hurrying down any of the half-dozen tunnels that spanned the walls. 

“Fuck.” He hissed, grabbing Azriel’s arm and thanking him back before he could float too close to the edge and expose them both. 

“He’s coming for me.” Your voice called out, worn and rough and deep. 

I’m here! Azriel wanted to scream. He hadn’t left you. He would never leave you. Never again. 

Beron circled like a vulture, ready to split you in two. Azriel’s eyes went black when Beron took out a battle cane strong enough to shatter bone, and crashed it against the gate, tongues of flame licking out and sending you cowering as you pressed yourself into the dirt, desperate to escape the unbearable heat. 

Azriel sprang into action, Cassian following close behind without hesitation. Somehow, the Lord of Bloodshed had known this was how tonight would end. He whispered a quick prayer to the Mother, sent one last burning message of love to Nesta across the bond, and then slammed down his mental shields.

Shouts of alarm were quickly snuffed out as Azriel’s shadows flew out from his wings, trailing behind him and engulfing the cavern in darkness. 

Cassian dove to the right, narrowly missing the onslaught of arrows that sailed past his ears, whistling as they streamed around him. They followed the curve of the wind around his strong body but never hit true.

A flash of red broke through the darkness, followed by screams of pain as Cassian threw another burst of his power and took out the snipers. The hill rocked, dirt falling down on their heads like hard rain.

You gasped, your face still half buried in the ground as the flames retreated with some mixture of shock and satisfaction. The hill rocked again and you had to roll out of the way as a chunk of the ceiling came crashing down and burst into a black cloud reeking of rot.

Beron was a beacon of light, a tornado of flames spinning around him. A casual flick of his wrist transformed the cane into a battle axe that glowed as hot as the sun, but never buckled under the heat. 

Azriel’s eyes flickered with fear just once, memories of burning and pain rising like a flood in his mind. He’d never told anyone this, but his disdain for the High Lord of Autumn was only matched by his fear of him. Because who else had the power to make his worst nightmares come true? Nightmares of being doused in oil and set on fire with no amount of writhing on the floor able to save him. 

But… memories of you rose higher than his nightmares. Memories of the forge that cast warmth upon your skin when you were pressed together with nothing but the tangled sheets between you two. Like rose petals preserved between the pages of a book. Memories of your gentle hands caressing every one of his scars reminding him what it meant to be gentle. Memories of your hands grasping at his back, nails scraping down and reminding him what it meant to be strong. 

He roared, loud enough that the hill shook again. Blue light crackled out from his chest, filling the cloud of black shadows like lightning cutting through the dark, and slammed into Beron’s fire. 

You fell back as the thin squares of sky above you filled with light and darkness, beating at each other unrelentingly as flickers of Azriel’s blue power carved out his silhouette. 

A well placed shot to Beron’s chest sent him sailing across the room and crashing through the rusting metal of a cell. 

Azriel dove down, grabbing hold of the grate to slow his momentum instead of using his wings. The bars were ripped out of the ground like the felling of an ancient tree. 

“Az!” You shouted, scrambling to your feet. 

“Y/n!” His face swam into view, eyes like perfect stones made of seaglass. 

You stretched onto your toes, ignoring the pain in your back as Azriel reached down, shadows filling the empty space and linking him to you. He began to haul you up, eyes shining and desperate. 

You caught the flicker of movement from Azriel’s left before he did.

“AZ LOOK OUT!” 

Light exploded into being and Azriel roared with pain, burning heat flaring over his wings as Beron stalked forward with his hands outstretched. 

You were dropped back to the floor, landing with a grimace on your shoulder. Shadows still clung to you, wrapping around your body and shielding you from the worst of the fall. 

“Az.” You croaked. “Az.” Dust and debris coated your throat as you staggered to your feet. Corrosive bangs sounded above you, flashes of blue and orange setting the air alight with power. 

Warm hands grabbed your shoulder from behind, a pale face sprinkled with freckles like copper dust coming into view. You flinched at the sight of him. 

Eris. 

He looked too much like his father. 

But his voice was softer, kinder. That was some consolation at the very least. “We need to go. Now.” 

“How did you get in here?” 

A sickening crack exploded above, bursts of Cassian’s power joining the fray. It sent a rain of dirt onto both your heads. Eris smirked, pointing to the hole in the wall he’d crashed through. He’d dug the tunnel to the cell with his bare hands fifty-three years ago while Beron had been trapped Under the Mountain. He’d left many of his personal changes to Autumn in Beron’s absence, some of which had been discovered, most of which remained secret. He was glad this piece of work was still standing. 

You looked back at him in surprise.

“You can thank me later by convincing your mate not to slaughter me.” He said, holding onto your arm and tugging you towards the tunnel. 

You were so wired up that his words didn’t register at first, chugging through your brain at a snail’s pace. 

You can thank me later by convincing your mate not to slaughter me. 

You gasped, “Wait. What?” 

But Eris ignored your sounds of surprise and slipped into the tunnel.

You had no choice but to follow, the sounds of battle behind you transforming into a dull bass that sent your heart pulsing. Eris’s hand turned to flame, lighting the way for you both as you steadily climbed your way up through the layers of stone and earth to freedom. 

Cassian careened to the right, leathers and the skin beneath smoking. He nicked the side of a stone outcropping, talons snagging on the rock and pulling sharply so he had no choice but to crash into the wall and clatter to the floor with a groan. He rolled to the side, tucking his wing in tightly enough that the swing of a guard’s axe met limestone in a shower of gray crumbs. 

Shadows coated the weapon like a pool of quicksand, swallowing it with a hiss of warning as the male jerked back. His eyes blew open, a choked gurgle escaping his throat at the blade that burst out from his chest. The body sank to the floor to reveal Eris’s towering above. He tipped his head to the side, bits of grime and blood dripping off his scarlet waves and tracing the smile lines on his face.

You stood beside him, steely hands gripping a war hammer equally doused in red. You’d snatched it off the body of a soldier while following Eris through the chaotic fray, and it was comforting to have such a familiar weight in your hands.

“Who’s the useless one now?” Eris crowed, sneering down at Cassian. But he still extended a hand, heaving a bruised and exhausted Cassian onto his feet and propping him up on his shoulder. 

Prick, Cassian thought first, leaning against him with a groan, Azriel, Cassian thought secondly, Where’s Azriel?

The explosions of power had dimmed down, shadows eating away at flames like starving men upon a dead animal. But Beron remained unperturbed as he lifted the flaming axe above his shoulder and cut through the air in a burst of heat that scorched brighter than a million suns. 

Cassian wrapped his wing around you, bringing you to the floor and shielding you from the worst of it. Even from this distance you saw the light growing behind your eyelids, bright and blinding.

Eris was the only one who remained standing, staring down at his father with unflinching eyes. Whatever was to come next, he’d either emerge the victor or he’d be dead. Either way, Beron wouldn’t be able to hurt him any longer. At least there was that. “Cassian,” He called out. It was the first time he’d ever used his real name, “Have you got any fight left in you?”

Cassian rose to his feet with you, grumbling about the charred smell emanating from his smoking wings. “It’s in my blood. So long as my heart’s still beating, I’ll keep on fighting.” He vowed. “To the bitter end.” 

He peeled himself off your side, rolling his shoulders back like he hadn’t just held off the power of a High Lord and survived. So this was the Lord of Bloodshed everyone talked about. 

You couldn’t help but stare in awe as his wings flared out in a show of power, the faint tendrils of smoke lifting off of them completing the epic picture. 

“Always so dramatic.” Eris muttered, rolling his eyes. But he had to admit, if he was to die tonight, dying alongside a magical artificer and two powerful Illyrian warriors would not be such a terrible ending to what had otherwise been a tragic, forgettable existence. 

You shoved Eris to the side, any awe replaced by fury as you saw Beron march towards Azriel’s dark form. 

The Shadowsinger rolled onto his feet lightly, picking up a glowing sword that you recognized as Sunseeker. If you had any doubts about Azriel being your mate, they disappeared as Sunseeker and Hellraiser clashed for the first time. 

You sprinted across the cavern, soon falling behind Eris and Cassian with your shorter frame but chasing after them nevertheless.

Fuckers. 

You gritted your teeth, hands gripping onto the ugly war hammer so tightly you felt the metal buckle beneath your fingers with a groan of protest. 

Come on, come on. You hissed to the metal, commanding it to do what you pleased with whatever meager sprinklings of power you had left. With a little encouragement and much frustration you finally felt the weapon conform to your will, twisting its shape to become denser, more aerodynamic, and easier to throw in your hands.

Perfect. 

Your magic wasn’t flashy or flamboyant. You had no sparks, or rolls of thunder, or bursts of light to display like a brightly feathered bird. But you didn’t need all that to look impressive, not when your war hammer sailed through Beron’s flames where Cassian and Eris’s melted, and struck the High Lord hard enough to dislocate his jaw. 

That’s my mate. Azriel thought proudly, rolling out of the way just in time so only the tips of his black hair caught on fire. 

Beron at least had the humility to look surprised as he gripped his chin and forced the bone back into place with a dribble of blood. 

Eris jumped on the opportunity, shooting forward in a blur of orange flame and concentrating all his power on the space right below Beron’s sternum. It wasn’t enough to knock him off his feet, but he still staggered back in Cassian’s direction.

Cassian didn’t waste his chance, taking his spare sword in hand and plunging the blade as far through Beron’s chest as he could. 

Beron stilled.

And everyone held their breath.

It happened faster than an arrow shot from a longbow. Beron twisted around and grabbed Cassian’s arm, snapping it out to the side with a horrifying crack of bone you’d never be able to forget. 

Cassian roared in pain, dropping to his knees. The sword fell from his hand and clattered to the ground. Or what remained of it at least. The blade was nothing more than a pathetic, molten pool dripping off the hilt.

You darted forward, slipping into the space in front of Cassian’s chest.

“Y/N!” Azriel screamed out, dashing forward as quickly as his wings and shadows could. No. No. No. No. No. He’d come all this way to find you. He couldn’t lose you like this. 

Beron’s eyes flickered with something like disappointment, but there was no hesitation as Hellraiser came swinging down with a death sentence.

You called out to the metal. You are mine. You reminded him. I made you. And you cannot hurt me.

You weren’t proud of Hellraiser. He’d been forged out of desperation, not love, as you sought to please the High Lord for long enough for Azriel to come find you.

 You’d told Beron the weapon would be able to withstand any amount of heat. Any amount of power. It would serve him well, even if it wasn’t bound to him as a servant to a master. 

You hadn’t lied about any of that. 

What you had kept a secret was that Hellraiser did have a master: You

And you’d made certain that no weapon of yours could ever be used against you. 

You cannot hurt me. You said again and the air around the battle ax began to rattle.

Hellraiser blew apart in a crack of thunder and lightning, shooting through Beron’s flesh and dotting his trousers and bronzed vest with scarlet blossoms. 

This time you were the one to shield Cassian, throwing your body over him as flecks of burning hot metal fell in a neat outline of your cramped silhouettes. But not a single molten drop fell on you.

Now it was Azriel’s turn. And this time, he was going to finish things once and for all.

His eyes turned into chips of ice cold steel, flat and unforgiving and malicious. He became the fabric that nightmares were carved from.

The next time Beron shot out his wave of flames, Azriel didn’t dodge them, slicing through the heat like a blade through water before bursting through on the other side with Sunseeker gripped in his hands. She sang a triumphant and vengeful ring when Azriel pushed her into the flesh beneath Beron’s rib cage with a scream of fury, plunging her up so far up through his chest and throat, that the High Lord’s tongue was severed and fell out of his gaping mouth. 

But that wasn’t enough for him. He wanted more. No, he needed more. He braced one foot on Beron’s chest, unsheathing Sunseeker with a wet, thick gush of scarlet blood. Then he swung again, this time severing Beron’s head from his body. The body and the head that had once belonged to it toppled over, turning the ground below into a mud slick.

Icaryon Hill fell into silence, flames flickering out on an invisible wind that swept across all of Prythian. The kind of wind that only arrived when a new High Lord was coming into power. 

Eris breathed in the cold, feeling power pour into him so rich and decadent that he groaned. Some new feeling erupted with life in his chest - something warm and safe and his - and it had nothing to do with the body of his father cooling ten feet away. 

He was free.

He was finally free.

When he opened his eyes Cassian saw they burned like amber in sunlight. His scarlet hair pulsed with flames, skin shimmering like moonlight as he held his hand over Cassian’s broken arm and pushed the bone back into place without pain. 

“Az!” You cried out, sprinting towards him. 

Azriel’s eyes snapped up and he staggered to his feet, blood dripping down his arms and chest with the steady beat of a church bell. 

His eyes turned hazel again and the bloodlust left him, replaced by a sinking feeling of dread and hope. He didn’t want you to see him like this. He didn’t want you to see him for the monster he was. It had been easy to forget what he did - what he was capable of - when he was wrapped up in your arms by the light of the forge. It was easy to forget that he didn’t deserve you when you were alone and warm and softer than any bed he’d rested on. But even so, he couldn’t stop his feet from moving forward in a stunned daze. Sunseeker slipped out of his hands without protest.

If he’d learned anything in your absence it was that he was far worse than he could have ever believed. Capable of more danger, more cruelty, more fear, more-

You sailed into his arms, slamming into his chest so hard that he rocked back on his feet, forced out of his mind and back into the present. He wound his arms around you, holding you to him. Desperate to hold onto a dream he didn’t want to wake up from. 

“Y/n.” He gasped, “Y/n.” Buried beneath the blood, sweat, and dirt you were still there smelling of something warm and clean and pure. 

His hands flowed over you like water. His eyes stripped you bare under their intense gaze as he searched for injuries. You grasped at his arms with-

“Your hands.” He said, the words coming out strangled and dead. 

Angry marks, red and black and scabbing over, criss-crossed over your palms and over the backs of your hands. You flinched when he held them, trying to ignore the throbbing of the matching marks on your back.

“You’re here.” You whispered, tears streaming down your cheeks. You hoped you weren’t still dreaming. You’d dreamed of him so often these last few months.

“Did you think I wouldn’t come?” He asked with a voice full of pain. 

You shook your head passionately, “No. No. I knew you would come.” 

You dared to look to the side. The High Lord looked pale in death, that glow of power sapped from his skin. 

I told you I’d have your head. You thought bitterly. You searched inwardly for any remorse and came up satisfyingly empty.

Tendrils of shadow cradled your chin, gently turning you away from the gory sight and back to Azriel’s tortured hazel eyes. 

“Good.” He whispered, “Never forget that, Y/n. Never.” He held your hands in his own, gentle but fierce, touching his forehead to yours in a gesture full of soft reverence, “I’ll always come for you, Y/n. Always.”

You swallowed thickly and felt your legs begin to tremble. And then the rest of your body was shaking as well. The only thing keeping you upright was the firm press of Azriel’s body against yours.

“Take me home, Azriel,” You whispered, burying your face in his shoulder and slowly letting the horrors of what you’d endured catch up to you. “Please take me home.”

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

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Taglist: @dr4g0ngirl @glitterypirateduck @i-am-infinite @brujitafantomatico @woodland-mist @coureurs-de-bois9 @aetherl0l @gorlillaglue25 @onlyangellh @huffleruffplant @just-m-2 @hnyclover @onlyangellh @queerqueenlynn @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @mybestfriendmademe @emme-looou @nyotamalfoy @minnieoo @lees-chaotic-brain @acourtofbatboydreams @tothestarsandwhateverend

#azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #acotar fanfiction #acotar #shadowsinger x reader #azriel x you #azriel x mate reader #angst #violence #Azriel goes feral to protect you #like goes insane enough to try taking on a High Lord in order to protect you

[jujutsukatsuki]

i’ve been waiting to see someone write thissss! (i think ur taking requests??)

the scene when alastor threatens husk!

the idea is reader (gn!) is there to comfort husk but he brushes them off, kinda like a hurt/comfort thing!

Okay I'm a little rusty but i got this! i wanted to do this as a Alastor x Reader but Reader is friends with Husker! I would like to add that I DO NOT SUPPORT VIV OR THEIR ACTIONS!

"This whole hotel will be full of demons wanting to check out into Heaven..." Charlie rambles on to her estranged father Lucifer, Vaggie follows on the other side of the short demon king and the princess of Hell. You followed behind them with Alastor, tall dark and creepy as he had been described by Mimzy moments before the group walked down the hallway.

"Hey Boss... can i have a word?" Alastor turns his head before his body, you hate when he does that, the sickling crack his neck makes. You turn to face the gambling demon cat, also known as your best friend in the hotel. You loved Husk, he was everything to you. "what is it?" Alastor's sickling smile never faulters, you're convinced he'd never drop the smile for people who weren't you. He was always sweet on you, even if on the outside it didn't look like he was. "You and i both know Mimzy only shows up when she needs somethin'. That bitch is trouble and who knows what kinda demon she fucked with to come running to you this time?" Alastor smirks and leans in towards the furball, you chew your lip, ready to jump between the two something you've done a few times before. "Its nothing i cant handle, don't worry Husker!" Alastor turns, arms crossed behind his back with his cane in hand, you look between Husk and Alastor. Husk looks angry that Alastor isn't listening. Husk looks to you and gives you an almost pleading look. If anyone could reason with the radio demon, it would be you. "Who in their right mind would cross me?" Alastor lets out a small hum as he starts to walk away. "I mean... you've been gone a while and its not like anybody knows why." "They don't need to know, and don't you worry your fuzzy head about it!" Alastor turns and pets husk on the head, something he absolutely hates. Husk lets out a loud growl as him and Alastor are nose to nose. The next few moments are a blur to you once husk mentions Alastor's metaphorical leash. The lights flicker, the room glitches with Alastor's power, your skin runs cold and you see the green leash snap around Husk's neck as he's thrown to the floor. "enough!" You yell, your hair standing on edge, eyes staring daggers into Alastor, your eye twitches with annoyance as you grab Alastor's arm and rip him away from Husk. "Now now sweet-" Alastor tries to calm you down, husk is shaking on the floor from the encounter. "No! This is enough Alastor, go find Charlie and Lucifer. Now!" You snap and point to where the group had gone. You never snapped at him, never even raised your voice. But right now, there was smoke coming out of your ears with how upset you were. Angry tears threatening to spill as you hold your stance. The green leash fades away and Alastor marches off without another word. "You okay?" You help Husk up who shakes you off with a tsk. "I don't need your pity, I'm fine." Husk grumbles and retreats to the bar downstairs. "Husk, please." You try and catch up with him. "What!" He turns and snaps.

"I don't need you playing the role of my parent! i can take care of myself, that's all ill ever need. Myself and what ever alcohol i can get my hands on." His voice is heavy, you know this is his mask. The one he puts on when something really bothers him and doesn't want to talk about it. You pull him into a hug and gently rub his back, you can feel his body tense, his wings are stiff before he slowly relaxes under your touch, his wings gently folding around the two of you. "I know Husker." You say gently, fingers combing his fur. "But I'm always here, you don't have to do it all on your own. I got you too. Family and losers and what not." You hum as the two of you pull away. "Yeah yeah, whatever you say." Husk smirks as he waves his hand, you know he understands what you're saying and what you mean is true, but the little bit of ego he had left doesn't let him fully show it. You and Husk reach the bar just as the building starts to shake due to some loan sharks trying to get in to look for Mimzy. The building catches fire, as they throw some Molotov cocktails through the windows. You gasp as you see some of the glass coming for you but i certain red demon pulls you from harms way. "I suppose i need to remind everyone why I'm here!" Alastor grins as he goes into his demon mode, you close your eyes, you hate seeing him in his giant demon mode. Once he's outside, you start helping Husk clean the building up.

"Darling, you alright?" Alastor comes back in to check on you

"Peachy." You snarl, still upset about earlier. Now even more upset due to Mimzy and her drama hurting the one place you loved.

Alastor straightens his suit before he forces Mimzy to leave, seeing as she was hurting the hotel and his beloved. You ignore the conversation as you sweep up glass. You feel a certain hand on your shoulder, you turn to look at Husk.

"It's okay, I shouldn't have made that comment. Don't let me get between the two of you." "I just don't like how he treats you." "Its okay, its my deal to take care of, not yours."

You let out a deflated sigh before turning to see Alastor who was waving around his cane to start fixing the hotel once again.

"Ali-" You say softly using the nickname he adored, it was simple but sounded amazing rolling off your lips.

"Yes darling?" He cuts you off as he grabs your hand and pulls you into him. You cant help but smile gently before grabbing his bowtie and yanking him down to be face to face with you.

"You ever hurt my Husky like that and i will make sure its your screams broadcasting on the radio. Understood?" You hiss and stare in his red eyes.

"Yes beloved." He nodded.

"Good." You nod back before going back to continuing to clean up the hotel lobby.

Sure life in the hotel wasn't the best, but it was your life none the less.

i hope this was good! its been a while since i wrote something!

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #husk x reader #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin hotel drabble #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel alastor x reader #hazbin hotel husk x reader #alastor x yn #alastor x you #alastor imagine #alastor x y/n #requests open #reader insert

[killmeprettypleasee]

Can you do a Alejandro Vargas x Male reader smut? Where Alejandro is jealous?? 😦😦

MI ENCANTADOR

Thanks for requesting <3

Warning: degrading, reader is mentioned to be flexible, rough, bad Spanish, no plot.

The bed hit the wall everytime he thrusted in you, it was rough and merciless making you cry out in both pain and pleasure.

"am i makimg you feel good? Thats it.. im the only one who can make you feel this.. little slut" your back shivered when he whispered that near your ear, you moan out his name out loud when he hit that spot in you making your back arch everytime.

"a-aleAaH!" Your gasp when he folded your body woth your knees near you head, it made his cock go deeper inside your core giving him easy access to hit every spot inside your tight warm cave.

He chuckled seeing you helplessly moaning around his cock. He cant help but ruin your lovely ass and fill you to the brim with his seed "You really think you.. you could get away from this huh?.." he smiled sadistically before continueing "flirting with some shit head? puta de mierda" he chuckled and slammed roughly in you.

Your mouth was opened wide as saliva dribble down your cheek making a dark spot on the bedsheets, he was fucking you so nicely that your thighs shook everytime he thrusted in.

Alejandro snaked his hand behind your neck and squeezed it a bit before pulling your hair back and gave you a sloppy kiss, you mindlessly wrapped your hands around his neck as you moaned and whine pleasurably in his mouth while he thrusted in and out.

Your ass is now red from how hard he was pounding you and your whole slightly stretched because of his big cock ramming in your tight ass. He pulled away giving you a time to breath, saliva drool down his mouth connecting with and went back to kiss your red puffy mouth.

His thrust slowly became sloppy but still hard to shake the bed, you felt a tight warmth in you stomach then snapped and came on your chest staining it with your sticky cum, the sight of you stained made Alejandro feral and grabbed you the back of your knees and pushed it down to the bed near your face and cane deep inside you filling your tight warmth with his to the brim making you gasp "eso es todo.. tómalo todo.." he said with a shit eating grin on his face before pulling out.

His cum flowed out of you like a waterfall and made a puddle on the sheets, you sigh in relief after feeling his hot cum in you and driddle out of your slightly loose ass and smiled tiredly "y-y'know.. i flirted with him purposely so you could fuck me l-like this ale.. fuck hell i cant feel my legs anymore" this made Alejandro look at you with big eyes and grin "you bitch" he chuckled and nuzzled his face near your neck and kissed it

My phone is now 8 percent 💀💀💀 qjuwh2gegvs

#alejandro cod #alejandro x male reader #alejandro x reader #cod x male reader #cod smut #cod x male reader smut

[ladamedusoif]

Sweets (Frankie Morales x F!Reader)

A Merry Fic-Mas - December 8

Part of A Merry Fic-Mas: A Holiday Fic Calendar - click for masterlist.

FYI: I'm having so much trouble with taglists at the moment that I'm not going to use them for now - if you want to keep updated, follow @ladameecrit and turn on notifications.

Happy Festive Frankie Friday! 🎄

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!Reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI; smut, oral sex (m receiving), established relationship, reference to P in V sex

Word Count: 824 words

Summary: Frankie’s smutty imagination means you’ll never look at a candy cane ever again without giggling.

Is there anywhere better to be on a cold winter night in mid-December than curled up on the couch with Frankie, watching a cheesy old Christmas TV special? He’s snacking on buttered popcorn and drinking a beer, while you suck thoughtfully on your favourite holiday sweet: a classic, red and white striped, peppermint candy cane.

Frankie shifts in his seat and exhales, long and slow. “Jesus, fuck.”

You stop sucking and look at him, a little startled at the outburst.

His coffee-dark brown eyes are looking at you with softness and need, his breath hitching a little as his broad chest rises and falls under the warm, brushed cotton plaid shirt he’s wearing.

He swallows hard as his eyes wander to your mouth.

“Baby? What’s up?”

Frankie flushes pink. “It’s…fuck. It’s the way you’re sucking that candy. It’s…fuck, my mind is in the fuckin’ gutter.”

He chuckles, but you can still see the tension written all over his face and throughout his body. And then it dawns on you.

“Francisco Morales. An innocent little candy cane, and that’s what you start thinking of?”

Your eyes fall to his crotch, and you realise just how hard Frankie’s been thinking about…that.

A cheeky smile spreads across his beautiful, boyish face. “It’s not my fault, baby. It’s that mouth of yours, all pretty and perfect and…”

He leans in and kisses you, groaning with pleasure and need.

You put the candy cane down on a coaster and face him properly, cupping his face in your hands and caressing his patchy whiskers with your thumbs.

“What do you want, Frankie? Tell me. Tell me what you need.”

His eyes widen as he looks at your mouth, then meet your gaze. “Need your mouth on me, baby. Please.”

You push back the coffee table to give yourself a little more room and sink to your knees in front of him, parting his legs so that you can move between them.

Frankie’s breathing grows more rapid as you unbutton the waistband of his jeans and tug down the zipper, exposing his cock straining against the light fabric of his boxer briefs. With a smile, you lift up the hem of his shirt just enough to plant a series of kisses down his soft middle, from his belly button down the fine trail of dark hair, until you reach the band of his underwear.

“Fuck, please. Please, baby.”

“I love you, Francisco. I’ll give you whatever you want.”

With a careful tug of his boxers, his cock springs free: already hard and leaking with pre-come in anticipation. You hum happily to yourself as you wrap your fingers around his length, stroking the velvety skin a couple of times as you lick your lips.

“Beautiful boy.”

He moans raggedly as you slip him into your mouth, gently building up a rhythm and keeping your palm wrapped around the base.

“Oh, fuck, baby!” Frankie’s hips buck upwards as you take him further into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks and swirling your tongue around the tip of his cock.

You stop for a moment to check in. “You okay, love?”

He’s panting hard, now, head rolling back. “Fuckin’ amazing, baby. Just…fuck…tingly, or something.”

“Oh god, Frankie.” You can’t help but giggle. “It’s the peppermint. I’m sorry.”

He huffs a laugh and shakes his head. “Keep going, baby,” he murmurs. “Feels so good.”

You grin and lick a long, slow stripe up the side of his gorgeous dick before starting to suck again, carefully taking more and more of him before glancing up to meet his gaze again.

It’s always a pleasure to take care of him like this, to make your love feel so good, just the way he likes: to watch just how wrecked this big, strong man becomes under the touch of your hand and the gentle, rhythmic motions of your mouth.

Vulnerability is never too far from Frankie’s gorgeous face, but he never looks more vulnerable - nor more gorgeous - than in moments like this. Him, buried inside you and sweat leaving a sheen on his brow, kissing you deeply as he’s about to come. You, between his thighs, moaning with delight as you feel his broad hand reach out to hold your head in place as you bring him closer and closer to his release.

He pants harder and harder, babbling about how much he loves you, loves your pretty mouth, loves it wrapped around him. Frankie comes with a cry, reaching for your free hand to hold it as he spills into your throat.

He opens his eyes, hazy with pleasure, and caresses your cheek. With a languid tilt of his head, he beckons you back up to his side.

“C’mere, sweet thing. Your turn, now.”

#a merry fic-mas #holiday fic calendar #frankie morales #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales smut #francisco catfish morales #frankie morales fanfiction #triple frontier fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedrostories

[faerykingdom]

DAY ONE - K. BREKKER

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1162 words

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: kaz brekker x reader

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: overstimulation, penetration, fingering, unprotected sex

It had been an exhausting day. Your entire body hurt from the hours of exertion. You had a migraine that has decided to live indefinitely in your head. Your wrist, your motherfucking wrist, hurts worse than it has in a while; it having being sprained painfully in your latest heist. (You’ll admit, you’ve had worse injuries, but right now, with your heart beating steadily in your wrist, and agonizing shots of pain shooting you your entire arm, you can’t think of anything worse.)

The heist, the lovely it’ll-only-take-two-days-at-most-Y/N heist. The one that had definitely lasted longer than a fucking hour, and immediately went wrong.

𝟐𝟒 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐑

“Gods damnit!” You shouted, as you jumped onto different roofs in a matter of seconds. You were running from Ravkan soldiers. You, and the couple of Dregs were sent to break into a multimillion kruge building, that would set you up for life.

It’s only been almost six years since the Fold was destroyed (by a fucking Sun Summoner, who died and made more Sun Summoners – it’s a very difficult concept to wrap around your mind, you mean, how the hell does the death of a saint cause everyone around her to gain her powers? – anyway, you’re getting off topic). Kaz sent you along with a couple newbies – seriously, how were you meant to successfully complete the heist when you were surrounded by idiots who didn’t know what they were doing? -, and explained that he expected all of you back in two days with bags filled with kruge.

However, as soon as you landed on Ravkan soil – after a lovely sail against the former Fold, to which you thought those damned winged beasts would fly out of no where and take you – you were almost immediately surrounded by soldiers.

Some motherfucker had told the authorities the plan. And when you find them, they’re going to wish they had never been born.

So now, you were split up from the rest of the group – if they hadn’t been arrested yet – and we’re currently flinging yourself over roofs to get away.

You jump from the last building, that will put you out of sight of the soldiers for a while. Unfortunately, there isn’t anything to grab a hold of to slow your fall. You barely have time to duck into a ball to stop from landing your neck, before your crashing onto the floor.

You yelp, feeling your wrist catch the brunt of the impact. You’re lucky you haven’t broken your damned arm.

You’re going to kill Kaz when you get back.

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓

The rest of the crew had managed to make it back to a different boat than you, and were able to make it back to Ketterdam about a day before you.

While they were happily sailing back home, you had had to hide out for the rest of the day, and sneak onto the bottom of a boat heading home.

You were in a piss pour mood, and you had no energy to deal with Kaz fucking Brekker and his questions.

And, of course, you were ignored and the Dirtyhands walked into your room, closing the door behind him with his crow cane.

“What do you want, Kaz?” You sigh, to exhausted to give much energy into the argument you can already see brewing. “If you’re here to scold me, I suggest you get a move on it. I’m tired, and not in the mood to deal with your bullshit.”

You looked up at the man through your desk mirror, numbly fiddling with your sleeping clothes. He stood stoically, his hands folded over the top of his cane. He stared at you, his dark eyes scanning the length of your body. He said nothing, seeming to want to examine every inch of you before opening his damned mouth.

Unfortunately for either of you, you were not patient enough to wait for him. You spun around to face him, your fingers dropping your clothes, and a scowl spread across your cheeks.

“What, Kaz?” you snap, crossing your arms over your chest. “If you’re going to bother me, at least fucking say something!”

Kaz stared at you, his own lips deepening into a scowl, “What the hell happened?”

“What do you think happened?” you snapped, glaring at the man in the mirror. “You sent me on a heist with two fucking newbies. We got caught as soon as we got on Ravkan land. Those motherfuckers felt me to deal with it by my goddamn self!”

You stopped rifling through your drawer, anger coursing through your veins as you slammed your hands down on the dresser. You were exhausted, your wrist hurt (you really shouldn’t have slammed it down so fucking hard), and you were pissed. Those idiots better not come anywhere near you for the next year, or you might kill them.

You flop down on your bed, and tossing your pillow over your face. All you wanted to do was sleep off the last week. But nooo, of course Kaz can’t take a hint, and leave you be.

You don’t look at him, but you can feel him staring down at you, and you can already imagine the scowl on his face. “Go away, Kaz!” you shout through the pillow, officially over his silent stare.

“No, I’ve got something better planned.”

“Fuck!” you scream, your hips hitching up towards Kaz’s hands. It was too much!

You’re laying on your bed, loosely tied to the head post, and bared completely for Kaz. You don’t know how long you’ve been here, or how many orgasms he’s forced out of you.

Kaz was straddling your legs, keeping your lower half against the bed. His dark eyes were focused on you, a smirk spread across his face. His fingers drove into you, the tip of his fingers hitting your g-spot over and over again. “Come on, give me another,” he says, rubbing harshly against your clit.

“St-stop!” you screech, trying to pull away from him. Kaz grabs your hips, and slams them back on the bed, keeping you still under his grasp.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!

It’s too much, oh saints...

“SHIT!”

Everything goes blank, and you feel like you just died and came back.

When everything clears, you realize the all-consuming pleasure was still pushing down on you.

You open your eyes, your chest moving quickly with your pants, and moans. You immediately make eye contact with Kaz, the man leaning over you as his hips slam sharply against yours. He’s looking down at you, and if you didn’t know him like you did, you would think he was completely unaffected. But you did know him, his eyes were glazed over slightly, and sweat lined his forehead. He was just as consumed as you.

“Fuck, Kaz,” you whisper, wrapping your fists around the sheets. “It’s too fucking much!”

Kaz leans down, his lips grazing your ear, “Shut up and take it. I’m not done with you.”

#kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker smut #kinktober 2022 #day one

[portaltothevoid]

God Called In Sick Today — Chapters 1 & 2

Summary: It’s the ghafia fic you didn’t know you needed… When a mission goes south, Copia is left scrambling to figure out a plan to get the mayor-to-be in favor of the Emeritus family. That’s where Arianna Diodati, the Mafia Princess of his (very Catholic) rival, comes in. He plans to use her as a bargaining chip to get what he wants. Did he place the right bet or did he take more than he bargained for?

Word count: 5.8k ~//~ Warnings: mafia au, copia x oc, death/murder, gun usage, angst, physically and verbally abusive relationship, domestic violence (between oc x oc), (brief, almost subtle) dacryphilia, kidnapping, dark copia, cliffhanger, enemies to lovers, slow burn

A/N: Surprise! It's a double feature! Fair warning, the next chapters won’t be up til I have a few under my belt so that they can be posted regularly and since I’m still working on You’re Losing Me as well… it might be a while. But I am so so excited for this, that I had to give you all a taste! Massive, massive thank you to @fishwithtitz @da-rulah and @copias-juicebox for beta reading and listening to me talk about this non-stop as I worked out the plot 🖤(photos in mood board all found on pintrest and dividers by @gothdaddyissues!)

Chapter One -- The Sermon and The Plan

It was never a good sign when Papa Emeritus IV demanded a mandatory mass that wasn’t on Sunday. Usually, meetings such as this would be for the upper echelon of the clergy and the Ghouls, but this time around, every single member of the Satan’s Ministry was in attendance. No one dared speak or even look away from their Papa as he stood, eyeing everyone in the room like the disappointed father he was. 

Those in the front row could hear his leather gloves squeak against the oak of the pulpit as he gripped it like a stress ball. His unique set of eyes, one green and one white, focused on one specific Ghoul. His expression darkened like an approaching storm, which made for his already intimidating skull-painted face to become menacing. As for the Ghoul, if it weren’t for the silver-horned mask covering his face, even Papa would have seen the beads of sweat dripping down the sides of it. He knew he was the reason everyone was here and why Papa looked beyond furious. He knew it the moment he saw the blue and red flashing lights at the docks.

“As most of you know,” the Satanic pope began, “our latest operation was thwarted by carelessness. All of you deserve to know why, but first, it isn’t a true Mass without a sermon, hm?” 

He clasped his hands behind his back as he turned to walk to his right, addressing those in the pews in front of him. “Pride and greed. Two sins that often go hand in hand. Sins which we celebrate here. It seems I need to remind you all that the celebration of sin, any sin, does not give one a free pass to do whatever the fuck they want, eh?”

He turned again, to walk to the other side of the sanctuary. “Every coin has two sides. At what point does living in sin, celebrating sins, become a hindrance? 

“Pride. An excessive belief in one’s abilities. Pride can make one think they are untouchable. Pride is the sin that pushes us to achieve greatness not just in the name of Satan, but for ourselves. And there, we find greed. A desire for wealth, for gain. But, again I ask you all, when does celebrating these glorious sins become a hindrance?” 

Now, he was in front of the pulpit. Leaning against it was a cane, something he only brought out for show or to inflict pain. While he was addressing everyone, his dichromatic eyes landed on the trembling Ghoul in the center. “Excessive or grandiose sinning becomes a deterrent when it puts the lives of others at risk, when it puts an institution, a family, that you’ve devoted your life to at risk.” Grabbing the cobra head handle, Papa gracefully jumped down to walk in front of the first row. “Many of you are aware of a mission we set out on recently. A mission to save helpless women and children from a sex-trafficking ring. There also was to be an exchange of money. These degenerates were exchanging quite a large sum of money for this transaction. Those prisoners were denied the choice of freedom we offer here. We were denied what was to be used as payment to put the malleable Gregory Osorio in our corner. We have very little time to come up with this sum to get a powerful, up and coming politician in our corner. One who could turn votes in our favor. One who would look out for us. One who would defiantly oppose the Diodati dickheads.

“This mission was not successful. By the time our Ghouls arrived, the prisoners were ‘rescued’ by the police. The money – that should have been ours – confiscated. I know many have wondered how this could have happened. Well, children, the answer is simple.

“Pride… and greed…” he spoke slowly, as he walked down the center aisle, dragging his cane along the ends of the pews. “Someone felt too secure in themselves… Felt they could just… open their fucking mouth to anyone who would fucking listen… while not realizing… They were fraternizing with an informant for the enemy.” He paused his promenade. “This was not a simple mistake. This was blatant negligence from someone who I know, for a fact, knew better. This Ghoul broke our Sacramentum Secreti (Oath of Secrecy).” He began walking again. His cane hit a pew with every word. “Internal problems will be dealt with.”

He stopped. Everyone turned to look at Papa, except for one Ghoul. Papa reached over, using the tip of his cane to force him to look at his figurehead, his boss. With a look that could kill and a wave of his hand, he indicated the Ghoul to walk in front of him back up to the sanctuary.

After twenty paces, “Ghoul, you seem to be limping. I wonder why that is… Is it because your pain and suffering is a message from La Famiglia Diodati?” he remarked snidely. 

When Papa planted himself behind the pulpit, he pointed the cane to indicate a spot on the ground. “Kneel,” he commanded. On shaky legs, the Ghoul did as he was told.

Papa dragged his gaze up to the choir loft before him, where one of his best Ghouls was waiting for the signal. Painstakingly slow, he looked back at the insurrectionist. “Per aspera, ad inferi,” he prayed. Again, he made eye contact with the one in the choir loft, giving a solitary nod.

In the blink of an eye, the Ghoul to Papa’s right jolted back slightly, a red dot forming in the center of his forehead. As deep burgundy liquid dripped from it, the congregation gasped, and the Ghoul toppled forward onto his masked face with a deafening thud.  

Papa bowed his head, but his eyes passed over everyone clutching their rosary beads in front of him. Somehow, this look was more sinister than it was at the start. “Let it be known that internal problems will be dealt with,” he paused dramatically, “by whatever means necessary.”

And with that, he turned heel and left through the back door, concluding mass.

“Do we really need Osorio this time around? Putting our efforts into driving back the Diodatis would be more beneficial,” Secondo, the second oldest Emeritus, argued. The highest members of the clergy and of the Emeritus family were gathered in their meeting room reserved for familial “business” matters. 

A leather clad fist slammed on the dark cherry wood table. “And what the fuck do you think getting Osorio on our payroll would do?” Papa snapped. Secondo just rolled his eyes in response. “We’re running out of fucking time.”

“There’s that charity gala, or whatever the fuck, tomorrow. I could just use my lascivious charm to reel in Osorio,” Papa’s predecessor and brother, Terzo, waggled his eyebrows suggestively. Papa pinched the bridge of his nose, leaning back in his luxurious leather office chair. 

“Copia, he actually–and it pains me to admit this–might be onto something. That gala could be a way in,” the eldest Emeritus agreed as he pressed his elbows into the table, his fingers interlacing in front of him, as he stared down his youngest brother and the church’s current Papa. 

Terzo waved his hand and his smirk deepened with Primo proving his idea had some merit. 

“We have nothing to give Osorio! The whole point of that mission was to dangle that money in his face,” Copia countered. 

“So instead we ask him his price,” Terzo shrugged nonchalantly. 

“How many of Sal’s men will be there?”

“I believe just his right-hand, Alessio Fidanza and his fiancée and probably only a handful of his associates,” Primo relayed. 

Copia’s eyebrows shot up at the mention of the fiancée. “Isn’t that Sal’s daughter? The prim and proper Mafia princess?”

“Sì.”

“For what it’s worth, my advice as your consigliere would be to attend this gala for recon purposes only. Yes, our time is running out, but we still have time to sway Osorio.” For the first time an older woman, who everyone called Sister Imperator, spoke up. She had been keenly observing Copia’s every move, just as any mother would her son, carefully watching knowing he was especially volatile right now. 

“And Sal, what about him? He’ll be there too?” Copia asked, ignoring the woman beside him.

“As far as we know, yes.”

A wicked, devilish smile spread across Copia’s face, exaggerating the black paint reminiscent of a rat’s skull around his mouth. 

“No… Copia, what are you thinking?” Sister Imperator asked hesitantly. She knew that look. They all did.

“Oh we’ll get some information. We will find out Osorio’s price and we will get Diodati’s attention.”

“Elaborate, brother,” Secondo said wearily. They knew Copia had just hatched a plan and from the look on his face, it was going to be far from easy.

“Diodati thinks he has the upper hand, sì? We can kill two birds with one stone. Show him who has the power here and get the money from him to pay off Osorio so those Catholic fucks can’t use God as a basis for politics.”

“And how exactly… would we do that? Are we intercepting one of their shipments or–” Sister Imperator began to ask hesitantly until she was cut off.

“It’s simple,” Copia stated. He leaned back in his chair casually this time, his elbows perched on the chair’s arm rests. He waved his hands in front him as if he was presenting a physical idea. “We kidnap la Principessa di Dio.”

Chapter Two -- You Should Be Scared

The last thing Arianna Diodati wanted to do was attend some pompous charity event chained to her fiancé wearing a designer dress she hated and a fake smile. She thanked God that she didn’t have to endure the after parties; she could retreat to solitude and her husband-to-be could do whatever (and most likely whomever) he wanted there. Not knowing what happened at those parties used to ruminate in her mind like a catchy pop song… until she actually found out. 

The infidelity bothered her at first, caused her to lose sleep at night, and question her worth. She used to be confrontational. She used to stick up for herself. She used to care. Arianna learned the hard way that Alessio Fidanza never actually wanted her or truly loved her. Maybe at first he did, but as time marched on, she came to realize the only thing he cared about was having an in with the most illustrious mafia family in New York City. The closer he got to her, the closer he got to Arianna’s father aka the boss of the Diodati family, and the higher up in the ranks he rose, the less he paid her any attention – or respect. In less than a handful of years Alessio was promoted as Salvatore Diodati’s right hand man. He learned the ropes, got enough blood on his hands, and eventually helped call the shots. She was used to her father dictating her life, but now, finding herself under the thumb of another man? There were only two things she could do: watch her life pass her by from behind barred windows and pray to God someone would eventually notice (and care enough about) her imprisonment to save her.

Nevertheless, she admired herself in the mirror; for once, she wore a dress that made her feel confident. Her black cherry red curls cascaded around her face. For a moment, she could see a sparkle, or a glimmer of hope, returning in her hazel eyes as she noted how the asymmetrical dress framed her body perfectly. Satin jersey panels on the two thirds of the dress accentuated her curves as it snaked down the length of it. It draped up, slightly off one shoulder while the other was a simple strap clad with the subtle (yet signature) Versace Medusa emblem. That side of the dress was a simple satin. A slit allowed one of her toned legs to peek through adding an air of sexy sophistication to the look. She was almost smiling until she heard her fiancé behind her.

“You’re wearing that tonight?” And with that snide question, the sparkle in her eye dimmed once more, returning to their usual lackluster shine.

“Um, yes? I showed it to you, remember? You said it would be fine…” she said hesitantly, her voice dancing on eggshells, and her small smile fading.

Alessio scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Do you think I pay attention to half the stuff you show me? If I saw something like that, I would have remembered. Wear the other Versace dress. The one I had Roberta pick up for you.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “Specifically for tonight,” he added, his tone proving he had little patience for her tonight.

“But what’s wrong with this one? It’s not like it’s–”

He sprung at her, his nostrils flaring as he gripped her arms tighter than a blood pressure cuff. She fought back the tears that pricked in her eyes. “You look like one of Satan’s whores. Now,” he spoke through gritted teeth, “put on the other dress.” He shoved her back, her arms flew out to find purchase on the dresser beside her so she wouldn’t fall. The few perfume bottles that toppled over made an almost deafening sound amongst the tension. Her breathing was ragged as she glared at him. His look back at her served as a warning. 

She never understood how someone who claimed to be so devoted to God could be so evil, but she had to trust God’s plan for her. This all had to serve a purpose, didn’t it?

Her eyes closed as she composed herself, doing her best to stuff down the ever-raging storm of anger that lately seemed to be constantly brewing inside her. “Yes, Alessio. It’s the one still in the garment bag?”

Slowly he rolled his head up to look at the ceiling, before bringing it back to glare at her. “Obviously, you dumb bitch. Hurry up and get fucking changed. I can’t afford to be late tonight because of you,” he spat as he walked out of their room. 

Once more, she took a deep shuddering breath, her whole body trembling on the exhale. Stepping out of her preferred dress, she left the almost four thousand dollar garment lying crumpled on the floor. 

Now as she looked at herself in the mirror again, she saw a stranger she didn’t even recognize despite the only thing that physically had changed was her dress. She noted how her eyes seemed more hollow. The color in her face had paled. There was nothing but a stranger who once had dreams and ambition staring back at her. None of this felt real. 

The worst part of it all was that under any other circumstances, she would have loved wearing this. It was a black viscose material. A slim-fitting, hooded crêpe dress with a plunging V-neckline that was much more revealing than her own choice, but this one had long sleeves and went down to her mid-calf. There was a criss-cross belt also adorned with Versace’s Medusa logo, only this one was more prominent than the one on her choice of dress. 

She let out a humorless laugh as she adjusted the long sleeves. All she wanted tonight was to feel confident, to show off some skin, because things had been relatively quiet as of late. Alessio was kept busy, his attention divided elsewhere. For the first time in a while, her arms didn’t look like an abstract painting. 

If she had been the one to pick out this dress, her sentiments towards it would have been different. She didn’t want to hide, but this was what Alessio wanted her to wear. There was no way around that unless she wanted to pay the price. Letting out a heavy sigh, she put the hood up. This dress felt like the most high end and lavish prison jumpsuit. No one would know how much it felt like she was wearing shackles, a stark reminder that her choices were never own. But at least tonight she wouldn’t have to come up with a lie to explain the fresh bruises on her arms.

A single tear slid down her face, which she quickly wiped away. With a shake of her head, she put her emotions under lock and key, tucking it away into a dark corner of her mind. She practiced her million dollar smile and nodded to herself, putting her shoulders back and her chest out –a mirage of confidence and happiness– and made her way to the Bentley that was waiting for her. 

No matter the formal event, the routine was almost always the same. Arianna would find her father, talk to and dance with who he (or Alessio) told her to, have two strong drinks (but no more than that or else she’d have to deal with a very irate Alessio), fake pleasantries with the other ladies who were just as much a prisoner to this life as she was, then once the crowd began thin, could she retreat. Tonight would be no different. At least, that's what she had assumed.

She greeted her father with a kiss on the cheek. “Arianna, there’s someone I’d like you to meet,” he father said, ushering over to a man that was just about six or seven years older than her. He looked just like everyone else here like he came from money and would stop at nothing to get more. “Greg, this is my daughter, Arianna. Arianna, this is Gregory Osorio, our soon to be Mayor.”

This Greg guy let out a low whistle as he looked Arianna up and down. “Sal, you weren’t kidding. She is absolutely stunning. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’ve heard so many things about you.”

“All good things, I hope,” she said with a smile that would never quite reach her eyes. 

“Oh, absolutely! Your dress looks like it was made for you. Ah, how do you say it… You look… bellissima!” 

“You’re too kind. Alessio convinced me to wear this tonight. I have to give all the credit to him,” she laughed, keeping up the ruse of niceties as Alessio dug his fingers into her side. It was his retaliation for the subtle jab she just made at him, even though these people would never ever know that it was. 

“Fidanza, you are a lucky man!” 

“I thank God everyday for her,” Alessio said, giving one more bruise-worthy squeeze on Arianna’s waist. He dropped his hand when everyone’s attention snapped towards the door. The group that had just arrived turned heads as they sauntered in. 

“Who invited those Emeritus fucks?” Sal snapped. 

“Copia put a call in himself to my office about a sizable donation for tonight. I figured if he's willing to be a top donor–perhaps even the top donor tonight–they might as well enjoy some of the festivities, no?” Osorio responded cautiously. “If you’ll excuse me, Sal…”

They exchanged nods as Gregory meandered through the crowd. Sal snapped his fingers. “I want eyes on them. They’re fucking up to something. Never once have they given a shit about things like this.”

“On it, boss,” one of his men said before he disappeared amongst the throng of people.  

Arianna never liked the Emeritus family. In fact, she borderline hated them with their menacingly painted faces and blasphemous way of life. She never quite understood how they rose to rival that of her family. Perhaps they really did make a deal with the devil.

“I’m going to grab a drink,” she said quietly. Alessio just waved her off, her father already in a passionate discussion regarding something she couldn’t care less about.

She made her way to the bar, getting the attention of one of the bartenders. “Your usual, Ms. Diodati?”

“Yes, please,” she smiled. 

It wasn’t long until she felt a pair of eyes on her from the other end of the bar. She looked up to see Copia, the ringleader of the Satanic circus, staring her down like a hunter watching its prey. It sent a shiver down her spine, but all he saw was the scowl that encapsulated her face. That only made him smirk at her.

She rolled her eyes in disgust, looking away from him. Out of the corner of her eye, though, when she knew his attention was back on someone that wasn’t her, she couldn’t help herself from taking in his appearance. She hated to admit, he looked… elegant. His burgundy pants were impossibly tight in all the right ways. It pained her to acknowledge the way they perfectly hugged his thighs. He had foregone his suit jacket, leaving just his matching burgundy vest and black dress shirt and tie. His sleeves were rolled up and she could see his muscles flex as he grabbed his drink.

Her eyes lingered for a few seconds too long. This time, he caught her watching him. His mouth curled up again into a sly half-smile as he took a drink. His dichromatic eyes never left her. The instant her drink hit the counter, she brought it to her lips and weaved her way through everyone back to Alessio in hopes of putting distance between her and whatever exchange had just taken place.

Shortly after she resumed her role as the token arm candy she was, did her father tense up when a leather clad hand slapped his shoulder. “Salvatore! Come stai (how are you)?”  

“Copia,” he greeted stiffly. “To what do we owe this… surprise?” The words rolled off his tongue as if they made his skin crawl. 

“Can’t a man just be willing to support a good cause such as this?”

Sal’s only response was to purse his lips. Copia was reveling in the fact that just his presence alone was getting under his enemy’s skin. “Say, Copia, did you hear about the girls that were rescued from trafficking by the docks the other day?” A condescending smirk now replaced the sour look on his face.

Copia’s eyes darkening was the only acknowledgement of Sal’s jab he let slip. “Ah, yes, thank the Gods below they’ve been transferred from one prison to another, being treated as criminals instead of victims.”

“Well, a whore contained is better than a whore on the street.”

Copia laughed sneeringly. “Ah, and I’m sure by whore, you mean a two-bit one. Tell me, though, what are the plans after this? Anyone escorting you to the after party?” he smirked as it was Sal’s turn for his expression to darken. 

Arianna didn’t realize she was watching this with bated breath, or that she was clinging to Alessio until he shook her off him. Copia's eyes immediately darted to Arianna’s fiancé breaking free of her almost death grip to take a step towards him. “You know, since you’re here, a thanks is in order,” Alessio said cunningly. “Those girls couldn’t have been saved without the helpful information one of your soldiers let slide right off his tongue. I’ve gotta say, that was a lucky group of girls.”

“Life’s just a game of luck, isn’t it?” Sal chimed in with a shrewd smile directed at Copia. 

“And I thank you as well, gentlemen, for helping me shed some dead weight.” The tenison grew thick as the flames of their rivalry were fanned with each remark. “But, a real man makes his own luck.” He casted a quick astute glance with an accompanying nod to Sal before he turned to directly face Arianna. “Perdonami,” he murmured gently, taking her hand and bringing it to his lips. “Arianna, e come stai stasera, principessa (and how are you tonight, princess)?” 

Her heart thumped wildly against her sternum and her eyes flashed nervously over to Alessio. She knew somehow this man’s unprompted actions would be her fault. Both men noted immediately how her body stiffened. One was amused by her fear while the other felt a pang of pity. “Bene, grazie (good, thank you),” she piped up meekly. 

“Would it be alright if I stole la bella donna (the beautiful woman) for just one dance?” he asked the two men beside him, only taking his eyes off Arianna for a mere second.

Giving Alessio a slap on the back, “She’s practically yours now, son. That’s your call to make,” her father laughed as he walked off towards the bar.

Arianna widened her eyes, begging Alessio to say no. Rolling his lips between his teeth as he pondered his decision quickly. He nodded, another sly smile curling the edges of his mouth. “One song wouldn’t hurt, eh? Careful though, she’s a pistol. Hope you can handle her. Lord knows some days I barely can.”

Copia laughed dryly. “I think someone of my stature knows how to handle one of those quite well,” he challenged, ushering Arianna away quickly.

Alessio reached out and grabbed her by the arm, just like he had earlier, turning her towards him. She inhaled sharply through gritted teeth at the pain as he had constricted her already tender bruises. “I’ll be waiting by the bar for you,” he hummed as his eyes flicked back and forth between Arianna and her new dance partner, before they lingered on her. She knew that look on his face. It was another warning. Without a sound, he let go of her, and followed the path of her father.

Copia’s arm snaked around her waist. He made it a point to do it gingerly, but that did nothing to calm her rattling nerves. “You’re trembling, cara,” he noted quietly, turning to face her, placing a hand on her hip on the same spot Alessio’s fingers left painful imprints. Her eyes fluttered shut when she involuntarily shied away from him. He eyed her curiously as he switched hands, placing one on her opposite hip and taking her hand in his other. She never quite understood the random ballroom dancing that happened at some of these parties.

“I’m not afraid of you.”

A sinister laugh quietly bubbled from him as he leaned to whisper in her ear, “You really should be.”

“And why’s that?” she challenged as they stepped in time together. Unsure of how, or why, but she could feel some of her old fire ignite inside her. 

“Now, now, if I answered that it would ruin the surprise.”

She spoke in a way so her lips didn’t move, but Copia could understand her muffled words perfectly: “My father has eyes on you, you know.” This came off as more of a warning of caution than a threat. 

“I’d expect nothing less from him. The real question is, does he have eyes on you?”

“I highly doubt it. I’ve proven to him I’ve learned from my rebellious ways,” she scoffed.

“Oh?”

“The consequences aren’t worth the… It serves no purpose anymore.”

After a few beats of silence, Copia asked, “Why do you let them treat you like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like they own you.”

For the first time since their dance began, she looked directly into his two-toned irises. Her breath hitched. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone, never mind a practical stranger, had even acknowledged her feelings or that she might have any at all. Her life wasn’t her own; it was already planned out. She could picture her life with Alessio as if she already lived. It’s mostly the reason she had become a shell, a carbon copy of herself. She felt like she was standing on the edge of a tall cliffside with no one to pull her back and no one who noticed, or even cared… So why was her father’s sworn enemy acting as if he did? And why in God’s name did it make her stomach flip and her heart flutter? “Because they do,” she finally managed to say through barely parted lips.

As the song ended, Copia regarded her with a smug, yet sympathetic look. He stepped towards her, pressing his body against hers, bringing his forehead down to hers. Standing there frozen, there was nothing she was able to do except stare into the most intriguing pair of eyes she’d ever seen. “Il mio agnellino (my little lamb)…” he purred. A devilish smile creeped onto his face. “I’ll see you soon.” 

He abruptly left her standing there like a deer in headlights with her heart hammering in chest, and disappeared into the crowd. She sucked in a deep, ragged breath as she looked around checking to see if there were any witnesses to what just happened. 

That man was evil. She knew this. He was ruthless. He worshiped the devil. He was the enemy.

And yet, what terrified her the most wasn’t his veiled threats, but her reaction to them. There was an allure to him, an air of mystique. Someone heard her faint cries for freedom… She shook it off and went to find Alessio, fearing what he would do if she waited any longer.

Arianna caught his eye as she walked up to him leaning against the bar, alone. He knocked back the remainder of his drink and forcefully grabbed her wrist, dragging her out to a deserted hallway. Not a single person batted an eyelash as they rushed past. 

Once he assumed they were completely by themselves, he forced her up against the wall. Her back stinging in protest as the coolness of the concrete seeped into her skin. Unbeknownst to the nowhere-near-happy couple, Copia and his ghouls were waiting in a nearby room. Every part of his plan was falling in place like dominos. 

“Alessio wh–” Arianna started to question, but was cut off by Alessio slamming his fist on the wall right next to her head.

While he now had her caged in, he pointed a finger in her face. “What the fuck was that about? You fucking wanted to dance with that vermin?”

She stared at him in horror. Even though she knew he would pull this card, it never made it easier any time it happened. “What are you talking about?! Did you miss the look I gave you? I wanted nothing to do with him! I wanted you to say the ‘no’ that I couldn’t!”

“You wanted–” he scoffed. “You wanted me to say no? Since when do I make your decisions for you?”

“Only every fucking day of my life!” she spat back at him, seething. Though he embodies sin and everything unholy, when Copia switched the hands on her hips, when he noted her fear… Those actions, so subtle, spoke volumes. She was reminded of what it means when a person has compassion, empathy, and even a trace of humanity inside them. If she ever experienced that with Alessio it had long be wiped from her memory, overridden by every terrible thing he had done to her and put her through.

The rage that erupted from him, the hatred that bled from his eyes, haunted her nightmares. Instantly after the words left her mouth, her whole body tensed. When the blow from his hand landed across her face, she didn’t even have time to react before he gripped her arms again, somehow even harder than the two previous times.

“You think you can just go dance with another man without looking like one of the devil’s whores? Maybe I should have let you wear that dress, since here you are, being one instead of just looking like one.” He shook her as he berated her. 

“Alessio, please, you’re hurting me,” she whimpered, tears streaming down her face as her fiancé screamed at her. His voice drowned out from the thumping music and the raucous party-goers in the other room.

“You little fucking cunt, if it wasn’t for your father I would have left your pathetic ass years ago,” he snarled through his teeth just before he tossed her to the ground like a rag doll. “Get the fuck home. I don’t want to deal with this right now. And you better think of a good way to make this up to me…” he warned before he cracked his neck, fixed his shirt cuffs, and sauntered back into the party. 

Quietly, she sobbed into the tile floor. Her body was alight in a flame of pain. “Please, God. Please help me. I can’t… I just can’t…”

A hand gently touched her shoulder. She recoiled, flinching, and pressed herself into the wall behind her.

“Oh, Principessa,” Copia tutted. He crouched down in front of her and used his thumb to wipe away her tears. She watched as he brought his hand closer to inspect how they glistened on his leather glove. His eyes bored into hers as he brought his thumb to his mouth, nearly sensually cleaning off her agonized tears with his tongue. Fear coursed through her harder than the adrenaline did when she spoke back to Alessio. “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, but it seems that God called in sick today,” he leaned in closer, hovering over her forebodingly, “and he sent me to handle your prayers,” he cooed disparagingly. 

He stepped back from her, offering to help her up. She stared at his hand, her eyes wide with panic. When he waved it to snap her out of her trance, she scrambled to her feet. Automatically fearing supposed repercussions. 

“How much… how much of that did you hear?” she whispered.

“All of it.” With a snap of his fingers two ghouls appeared, seemingly out of nowhere from Arianna’s perspective, and grabbed her arms. Their grip firm, but it wasn’t lost on her how they somehow managed to avoid touching where Alessio had hurt her. 

“Wh-what are you doing? Let me go. Let go of me!” she cried out, feebly attempting to wriggle from the ghouls’ grasps. 

Copia stepped forward, taking her face in his hands. His thumbs stroked her cheeks. With his face inches from hers, that diabolical smile reappeared. “I’m sorry about that too, but I can’t allow that. You see, il mio agnellino, you won’t be going home tonight.” He snaked his hands down from her face and along her neck before he leaned in so close to her, his breath tickled her ear. The way his lips moved against her skin sent shivers down her spine. “I told you. You should be scared of me.”

As he backed away from her, a third ghoul put a cloth over her mouth. Her screams were muffled as she tried to thrash and escape from her captors. Soon, her movements slowed and her vision blurred. The last thing she remembered seeing was that haunting pair of eyes, one green and one white, watching her with a smirk that rivaled that of the devil’s, before something covered her head and plunged her into darkness as her body went limp.

Next Chapter || taglist: @gorie-talks-a-lot @haelithra @love-is-all-you-need-13 @lydzlore @megachaoticstupid @onlyhereforghost  @state-of-longing @werich @whenparadiseislost 

#the band ghost #the band ghost mafia au #mafia au #copia #mob boss!copia #mob boss copia #papa emeritus iv #papa emeritus 4 #papa copia #copia x oc #papa emeritus iv x oc #the band ghost fanfiction #ghost bc #ghost bc fanfic #copia angst

[strangerxperv]

Christmas Headcanons with Eddie Munson

Warnings: SMUT, Minors Go Mine Coal, Teens Don't Interact, NSFT/NSFW, Christmas puns, fluffy smut, creaming pies/ unprotected sex (be safe), breeding, unsafe use of whipped cream, curvy reader, reader is described as warm/ hot, large titties, thickie thighs, Eddie eats you for his own enjoyment, Eddie has a large peepee and he knows how to use it, hinted spiting into face/mouth, deep throating, you end up tied up, a song is made, and sexual presents under the Christmas tree.

Eddie Munson X Curvy Reader

This is a personal Secret Santa Gift for a special someone in the Discord server I'm in. I was really lucky to get you as my person for this event. I always get a sly grin whenever I interact with you and it makes my day. You're the best Lea!

Eddie likes sex. Loves it actually. But sex during December is his favorite because it's the month of giving.

Sex with Eddie has a tendency to be more playful during this month.

Decorating with Eddie is nearly impossible and takes a significant amount of time to complete. It takes days because he can't keep his hand from you.

He's always touching you in some way.

Wrapping some garland around you as a scarf, innocent. But it brings to mind an unavoidable sexual conclusion for you both.

He can't stop himself from tying you up with the festive garland. It's wrapped around your wrists and waist so he can grip it. Fucking you deeply the harsh material bites and rubs onto your skin.

Afterwards he has to lather lotion on the lasting marks. Guess garland isn't a safe restraint after all but it was a fun one time thing.

That doesn't stop him from tying you up with Christmas lights.

The lights are definitely turned on and the room is softly illuminated with them.

The sight of you entangled with the pretty multi colored lights has him hypnotized. Your tits are framed by your trapped wrists and bounce with each forceful thrust.

It's also important to note that he found your slay bells. Those get tied around your ankles which are thrown over his shoulder. "Wanna make music with you baby."

That leads to him recording your moans and the sounds of the bells ringing with each jump of your legs. Then he writes up a Christmas song with the band, it's called "When the Slay is Rocking don't Come (Cum?) Knocking."

The lights eventually get set up and the next day the tree gets set up. The tree is set up suspiciously fast when nothing causes Eddie to distract you.

Tension builds as he sweetly helps you place the lights, bobbles, candy canes, garland, tinsal, and star topper.

His hands clap loudly cutting into silence causing you to jump, surprised. Eddie's lips are spit wide in a cat that got the cream grin, "Now that we're done...wanna christen the tree?"

Eddie lays you under the tree while it glows in the dark room. So you can watch the dazzling lights glimmer off the various bobbles. But you can't take your eyes off him.

His face is lit up softly while the darkness of the room wraps around him, contrasting. Framing him and taking your breath away.

Like the soft slow thrusts that tell you he loves you. It's not often that Eddie makes love to you. He prefers to fuck you till you're both overstimulated and twitching.

But sometimes he needs you to feel how you make him feel. How deeply he truly loves you. His thrust though slow are deeply kissing your depths. Gently tapping your cervix to pull back and nudge your spot.

He takes you apart and afterwards he collects you to nap under the twinkling tree.

It's then, when you're wrapped in a soft Christmas themed blanket cuddled up to him. It's your warmth that causes Eddie to decide he never wants another hot bodied person. He never wants anyone other than you.

Eddie stuff your stocking and you stuff his. He puts various things in that you'll like. Treats, small sex toys, gift cards, trinkets, and at the toes there's a small black box.

Hidden amongst the decorations Eddie has mistletoe hung in every room. Some are easy to spot and some are a happy accident when you find them.

The first night you get stuck under one is in bed. The bastard hung it over your side of the bed and he's so smug.

He tells you that if you cheat and leave without a kiss you'll no doubt be punished. He's begging you to fuck this up.

Which leads to you begging him to kiss you so you can brush your teeth. It's a shame you forgot to do that before sliding into bed. Guess you'll have to make it worth his while.

Eddie was just complaining about being hungry and your cunt would really solve that.

Eddie spends hours making out with your soppy pussy. French kissing your clenching hole and sucking your stiff clit. Deep bite marks, that will bruise for days, on your thick thighs every time you close your legs (around his head).

He has to hold them open with a tight grip pushing onto your inner upper thighs. Dimpling the giving flesh with more bruises.

He makes you cum many times before he lets you up. Your shaking legged walk makes him giggle when you shamble into the adjacent bathroom.

At Christmas movie night you both decide to make hot chocolate. Somehow the whipped cream ends up in Eddie's hands. He's looking at it and looking at you. And he needs you to lick it off his cock.

It's not a want. No, it's a desperate carnal need thats got his balls in a crushing grip.

It's a good thing you like whipped cream and love his cock.

Your knees hurt where you kneel on the wooden floor. Your mouth is split wide and your jaw is unhinged while his cock is lodged.

It started with you licking the sweet treat from his leaking tip. But quickly devolved into Eddie fucking your throat. Nose pressed into his fluff almost as hard as his cock is pressing inside your throat.

His own mouth is gaping with groans seeping out from between plush lips. Long tongue licks his lower lip when you splutter out a gagged cough.

Drool froths and slips onto your bare tits where it pools between them. One of his hands is wrapped around your throat to feel his cock bulging in your straining esophagus. It's taking more of your breath away causing you to silently gasp.

Triggering his orgasm to spill down your throat but you can't swallow it all. It fills your mouth then slips between your vacuum sealed lips. Eddie's grip loosens finally to gently pull out of your filled cavern.

His fat leaky tip is wiped onto your swollen lips, "Swallow it all or I'll drink your cocoa." His threat is hollow after such a well given sloppy toppy. But you've never wasted his cum and won't start now. Licking the cum from your lips and his cock only furthers to make him obsessed.

It's Christmas Day that you ask him to give you the ultimate gift. A thorough breeding. Up until this point he's always worn a condom or pulled out. But tonight you want him bare and deeply cumming into you.

Whose he to spit into your face after such a perfect gift...maybe he should spit in your mouth instead.

Surrounded by gifts and wrapping paper and once again under the tree, he fucks you. Hands gripped under your knees and pressed onto your heaving fat tits. Your own smaller hands are holding onto his hands.

He cums into you but doesn't stop. He keeps going until he cums again and again. Your mingled cum cakes onto the carpet slicking your skin.

Once you're filled and a pillow is tilting your ass in the air he gives you your stocking.

"What'd ya say? Wanna be mine?"

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie x you #eddie x reader #stranger things #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x y/n #stranger things smut #eddie stranger things #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson headcanon #eddie munson x reader fanfiction #eddie munson x curvy reader #eddie munson x fem! reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fluff

[k-marzolf]

Do we get what we deserve.

warnings: friends to lovers, reader has an autoimmune, fluff, kissing, fem!reader.

summary: You go out with Billy to the bookstore, your health limits you.

a/n: self indulgent, and like my own limitations. I was doing physical therapy last week, and thought of this.

You’d come to the bookstore because you wanted some fantasy novel, and wanted to hang out with your best friend. You’d both gotten a coffee, and Billy laughed. “There’s more cream than coffee in there.” He said, booping your nose. “But it matches your personality.” He said, touching your hip.

“Yours matches you too, bitter.” You teased him cheekily, starting out strong, even if you were a little sore.

Billy smirked, raising an eyebrow. “Ouch.” He said, and you smiled, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“I like you bitter, like dark chocolate.” You said, pulling him along to the fantasy section of the bookstore.

But now you were struggling to keep up with him, your cane wobbling in your grip. You felt winded, and your knees and ankles were killing you, as Billy turned looking behind him for you. He backtracked seeing you lean over on your cane, coming up to you. “Need to go home?” He husked, seeing the pain in your eyes.

“I don’t want to hold you back.” You said, feeling your joints creak, you could tell they were swollen.

Billy cupped your face, “Do I look like I give a fuck?” He asked, kissing your mouth, cutting off your arguing. He tasted bitter like you’d said earlier, and it could be said there was nothing sweet about Billy. But at that moment he was.

“I’ll take you home.” He said, slowing his pace.

“Wanna be with you.” You said quietly, following him reluctantly.

It made Billy’s heart ache, the want for him in your eyes.

“I’ll make you some tea at home. And then you can read me your new book.” He said, heart clenching at the way your eyes lit up. He didn’t even give a fuck that he hated fantasy, your joy was his.

Billy knew he was just some asshole who thought he could have the good things, especially after all the things he’d done in the Marines, but he couldn’t find it in himself to let you go.

#billy russo #billy russo x reader

[gretavanlace]

Decorum and Refinement

Jake Kiszka/Oliver Reed x reader

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: graphic sexual content, language, alcohol consumption, dirty talk, degradation, praise, foreign objects, fingering, oral sex (f/m r), terrible English accent/diction (bc come on, it’s Oliver), etc.

“Do you think you guys’ll ever do the whole masterclass thing again?” The thought, that has been bouncing around in your mind for most of the drive home, spills from your lips before you have a chance to think better of it.

His head swivels over in your direction, but you keep your eyes on the road. “I dunno.” Lazily, he sips at the whiskey he shouldn’t be enjoying in the passenger seat. “Why? That’s a strange question.”

“You would know.” You smile, stealing a quick glance over at him. He looks sinful, relaxed back in his seat, legs spread wide, cut-crystal glass he stole from Josh’s sweating in his hand.

“Why would I know?” He grins back. “Are you trying to imply that I’m strange?”

“No!” Your inflection is exaggerated to showcase the lie. “Would I ever say something like that about you, Jake? My beloved. My prince. Love of my life. Keeper of my—“

“Oh, shut up.” He laughs, cutting you off. “And stop dodging. Why’d you ask?”

Now it’s your turn to shrug. “Just making conversation.”

“That’s not true at all.” He challenges. “You never speak just to make noise. Like that about you. Now, out with it.”

“Cal.” You sigh dreamily. “That chef’s hat really does it for me. And when he yelled at the fly? The aggression? Irresistible!”

“Yeah?” He’s in on the joke and playing along. “Verbal attacks against insects kink? Wonder if there’s a name for that?”

“Oh sure…there’s a convention every year, too. You should come scream at some ants with me.”

He takes a long swig of his drink, draining it to the dredges and then lowers his tone. “Yes, thank you, darling. That sounds lovely.”

A shiver tickles up your spine as Oliver peeks out, but he pretends not to notice, and you pretend it hasn’t happened.

You’re safe with Jake, and he is always more than willing to dip into uncharted waters with you…but it’s inexplicably embarrassing; this thing you have for his ridiculous alter-ego.

The way he speaks, so grizzled and rough. Seemingly hardened from years of cigars and Jack. Harsh and clipped, unbothered by anyone’s bullshit.

The swagger in his walk, like he knows everyone in the room wants to fuck him and he hasn’t the time to deal with them, but he’ll give ‘em a bit of a show anyway.

The accent. Even though it’s barely passable at times. A cobbled together mix of dialect he’s picked up through movies and travel, and bits that don’t really make much sense at all, at times. But even that seems terribly Oliver. As if he’s said, “Well, alright then, I’m English, but I’m not like the rest of these cunts.”

That stupid cane. That stupid, unbelievably sexy, fucking cane.

~

Now, standing in your kitchen, sifting through a stack of mail, you wonder where he’s gone. Normally he’s a touch clingy after he’s had a round or two, or seven, with his brothers, but he disappeared nearly as soon as the two of you walked in the door.

Likely to his music room to pluck away at an acoustic. Winding down for the night with a vinyl spinning softly in the corner. You’ll go and find him soon, maybe lie down on the crushed velvet couch and let him play you to sleep.

The thought, too cozy to resist, sends you wandering up the stairs, only to find the room dark and quiet. He isn’t there, but the room is so Jake, you’re drawn inside anyway.

It smells of him. The piney scent of gin and sap-dripping trees, beaten up leather, linen, metallic strings…

You wander through, ghosting your fingers over instruments in the moonlight streaming through the windows he fought to leave untreated. “No curtains in this one.” He’d argued. “We’ll let the outside in as it sees fit.”

Your touch lands on a row of guitars, lightly skimming the tops. Electric, acoustic, steel…then moves along to the nomads. The instruments he loves, but leaves to lie in wait. Ukulele, banjo, mandolin, lute, sitar…

A gorgeous, posh, cello waits in the corner regally. He swears one day he’ll teach himself to play it. Just as he promises of the violin resting, beautifully neglected, in its case.

You don’t fault or tease him for these two…if the instrument boasts strings, Jake is drawn to it and hungry to take it home.

“Look at this!” The memory fondly floats into your mind. “It’s called a Balalaika!” He’d reached out for your hand, guiding you to strum over it. “It’s Russian…I ordered it from that place downtown months ago, and it finally came in…listen.” A jaunty little tune had sounded out as his fingers excitedly worked it over.

A soft knock on the open door startles you out of your thoughts and sends you spinning around to find Jake leaning against the door frame.

Only, it isn’t Jake. Not quite…

“So sorry to scare you, love,” He raps the end of his cane against the wooden floor absentmindedly, “But I thought I’d let you know that Jacob is, unfortunately, indisposed for the evening. He thought I might keep you company instead.”

He figured it out. Worked to connect the pieces in that brilliant, pretty head of his. Of course he did.

Gaze drinking him in, you feel parched rather than satiated…he looks like a drunken pirate who has done his best to look presentable for an event at which he fully plans on creating a scene.

Rumpled vest layered over a wrinkled button-up, which is anything but buttoned up. Layers of necklaces swaying gently against his bare chest. Cuffed trousers that highlight the anklet that drives you wild, though you can’t decide why. Scuffed, but clearly expensive loafers made of buttery soft leather…worn out in the most perfect way.

“Look all you like, darling.” He sighs, waving his hand around as though he’s royalty, “I am merely a gallery for the female gaze. Male, too, come to think of it. I suppose I just like to be looked at.”

Your cheeks flush with heat…this is silly, right? So why is your pulse pounding in your ears? Amongst other places… “Jake,”

He saunters forward and tilts your chin up with the glossy handle of his cane “I’m sorry, but I’ve already told you. Jake’s not here. Try and keep up, girl, ‘right?”

Hands now clutched around the lapels of his vest you tuck your chin submissively against his cane and finally allow it to sigh off of your tongue… “Hello, Oliver.”

“Hello, love.” He raises your face a touch higher, until he can brush his lips over yours. “If I wasn’t so fond of our boy, I might fuck his pretty thing right here. His favorite room…his favorite girl,” He reaches down and cups his warm palm over your cunt, “Wouldn’t that be bloody dreadful of me?”

“I won’t tell him.” You breathe, sinking into the narrative.

“Oh, I’ve got a wretched little witch in my arms, don’t I?” he’s walking you backwards now, leading you towards the wall. “Willing to let Oliver slip it inside like a common whore when Jacob just loves you so much? Naughty. Disgusting. Vile.”

The air knocks out of your lungs as your back hits the wall. “Dirty girl thinks she needs a bit of cock, when what she really needs is a priest to absolve her of all this sin. Shall I call Father Sam? You can repent and say your Hail Marys and then ruin all your hard work on your knees for me.”

“Fuck repenting…” your legs wrap around his waist, searching for friction. “I’ll go to hell and burn for you.”

“Wonderful,” he takes pity and grinds against your cunt. “I’ll see you there…we’ll rot together.”

His hand is wandering down now, between the two of you, seeking to disappear into your jeans, which you wish would also disappear. “Jake…please, just fucking touch me.”

“Now, now…” he tsks. “That’s all wrong, innit it, girl? Can you say it right for me? Behave for Oliver and stop thinking with your head, hmm? Think with that pretty cunt… my bet’s she knows who she wants.”

A noise you would absolutely die if you ever had to admit to, sounds out of you. “Touch me, Oliver…please…I need it…”

His fingers inch away from where you need them most, “Where?” He circles your belly button. “Right here? You know, I’m bit drunk, darling…a touch inebriated. So sorry to ask, but, I’ll need you to be specific.”

Another moan of frustration escapes you.

“C’mon then…” now his hands are shoving your shirt up. “Tell Oliver what you need.” He tugs your tits free and a raspy laugh greets them like he’s never laid eyes upon them before “Hello, dolls. Beautiful.”

His mouth is suddenly relentless. Licking and sucking and groaning softly against your nipples as you pant and silently pray for his cock to force him into further action.

“Tell me where.” He mouths around your nipple.

“You know where.” Your hands are in his hair now…tugging and pulling.

He drops to his knees and yanks your jeans down to your ankles, taking your panties along with them. “Well hello, lovely girl.” He growls out, nuzzling his nose against your clit. “Name’s Oliver, and I’m about to show you a fucking fantastic time.”

You’re propped against a wall, in this seemingly sacred room where he creates, writhing and whining with your panties at your feet while he carries on a little conversation with your aching pussy. You wish you could say that you feel badly for it, but you’ve never been the best liar.

“You’ve met my mate Jacob…” he continues. “Nice enough, but…” his tongue swirls over your clit and a sob rips from your chest. “Bit upper crust, isn’t he?”

“Darling…” He looks up, drawing you into the conversation he’s been having with your desperate cunt.

“Our Jakey…does he do this for you? Does he get on his knees to kiss her as sweet as she deserves?” His eyes, clear and unashamed of the depravity of it all, stare up at you.

“Yes…” it trembles out weakly as you try your hardest to force him in closer.

“Ahh…” he sounds very proud of Jake, indeed. “That’s my boy.”

Momentarily, you adopt an accent of your own. “He’s lovely, Oliver. Now, give us a kiss.”

“M’only regret is that I’ve shaved.” He drags his finger over his smooth jawline and kisses at your clit. “Might’ve been nice to smell as pretty as you do all night.”

“Couldn’t find the beard?” You tease breathily.

He winks up at you in confirmation and promptly buries his face between your thighs, sucking softly until your legs are struggling under the weight of your quivering body.

“Take me over to the couch.” You whisper, imagining the gentle kiss of velvet against your flushed skin.

“Sofa.” He corrects as though he’s lord of the manor. Then he’s on his feet, sweeping you off of yours, as if you are the lady of said manor. “You damned Americans. Common. The lot of you.”

He deposits you tenderly, but orders roughly, “Let’s get rid of this nonsense…” gesturing dismissively at your state - half-dressed and disheveled. “I’d like to get on with it.”

His cane has somehow found its way home, nestled in his grip. He catches you staring at it as you hastily strip as instructed.

“That was a mistake, girl…” he taunts. “You should learn to hold those filthy cards closer to your chest. Spread your legs, love. Let Oliver see tonight’s stage.” He bows gently, “I am but a thespian.”

You open wide for him, spreading until your hips flare with a dull ache. “Please, Mr. Reed…make me feel good. Jake never has to know.”

“I think someone who’s about to fuck herself with my cane deserves to address me a little less formally, don’t you, darling?”

The smug smile swept across his lips makes you want to cry tears of frustration…he is just so fucking beautiful. Instead, you moan wantonly at the mere thought.

“Nasty little bit likes that, doesn't she?” He’s really leaning into it now. “Wants Oliver’s cane right in her sweet, pink, cunt? You look so tight, think you can even take it, love?”

He speaks as if he’s never been inside you before…fingers tucked in, fucking against the perfect spot. Cock stuffed inside, making you see stars and wishing for it to never end.

He returns the nod you offer.

“Right then,” he tosses the cane at you and you, thankfully, catch it like a pro. “On with it.”

You’re so lost in him you begin inching the bottom closer to yourself, but he puts a quick stop to it. “No, sweetheart, what’s been on the ground doesn’t deserve the perfection you’ve got there between those thighs. Handle, yeah?”

Eyes on his, you guide the handle to your mouth, licking and sucking it as if you aren’t already so dripping wet it’ll slip right inside.

“Thank you, Oliver.” You fix your fucked out doe eyes on his blushing face.

“What for, little love?” He asks - a bit of cockney coloring that ramshackle accent of his.

“For letting me use your cane.” You clarify with put-on innocence. “I just need to cum so badly.”

“S’that right?” He taps his foot, pupils blown as he moves in closer. “Pretty thing just needs to cum so badly?”

“So badly.” The cool handle of his cane begins nudging at your entrance.

“Go on, then, Miss America…” he rasps. “Let’s treat her right, shall we? Together? Can’t have you running back to tell Jacob I made you do all the work, now can I?”

“Thought we weren’t telling Jacob?” You smile softly.

“Oh, my dear girl.” He smiles right back. “You think he doesn’t know your body well enough to know when you’ve gotten off properly? Even when you’re all alone and you think it’s a secret. He knows, love…he knows.”

“How does he know?” You slip his cane inside and bite back a whimper.

“I’m not exactly in the habit of asking him about his beautiful girl and how he knows when she’s enjoyed an orgasm…but I s’pose I could guess if you’d like.”

“Yeah…” your back arches away from the couch as you slide against a particularly sensitive spot inside with his cane. Fuck, with his cane…the vulgarity of it makes you tremble.

“Alright then, love…” he sinks to his knees before you and kitten licks at your clit. “If I had to make an educated guess - and I’m very educated - I’d venture that you might get a bit…loose limbed, yeah? Languid and gentle. The prettiest baby…”

“Whose fucking baby is this?!” You interject, with the smallest of giggles, because you just can’t help it, and he gives you a look that could kill.

“Settle down.” His fingers swat at your thigh just hard enough to sting.

“Did I ruin the mood?” You tease.

In response, he slides his cane out, replacing it with two long, warm, fingers to find you soaked and squeezing. “Doesn’t feel like you’ve ruined anything at all. What a pretty little wreck she is. How’s Jakey boy ever get anything done?”

Your hands are buried in his hair again, yanking him in until his mouth is kissing, soft and hot, along your neck. “I have to force him to leave me alone. He wants it all the time.”

His fingers are moving inside of you like heaven…circling and massaging against that perfect place, rather than fucking in and out. “S’that right? Just wants to live buried inside this tight little cunt, does he? Can’t say I blame him.”

Grinding shamelessly into his hand, you pitch your voice gentle and quiet, in the way you know he can’t resist “You wanna fuck me and find out why?”

“You couldn’t handle it, darling.” His teeth sink deliciously into your throat until you shudder and pull at fistfuls of his tangled hair. “Oliver’s not got a gentle bone in his body. I’d tear Jacob's pretty girl apart.”

Your shoulders shiver, his voice, like cashmere over sandpaper, huffing so menacingly in your ear. “Oh, someone likes that…” you can hear the half-smirk in his tone, though your eyes have fluttered closed.

“Tell Oliver how much your pretty cunt loves him already. Does she, darling?” You can’t help the way you clench around his fingers any more than you can help the ragged sound that gasps from your parted lips. “Hmm, feels like she does. I said, tell me.”

Tears are burning in your eyes, he’s gotten you so close, but he’s holding back just enough to keep you right there, watching you intently, eyes trained for your body’s tells.

“I need more,” the tears are falling now, and you know he adores every single one of them. “Need to cum.”

Instead, he slows down even more and lessens the pressure. “Does he let you act like a brat, or’s the pleasure all mine? I asked you for something, and I expect you to give it to me.”

“Yes…” you nod frantically, lifting your head to find his eyes. He offers a lazy wink like a smug bastard. “She loves you, Oliver.”

But it isn’t good enough. “Who loves me?”

“My cunt…” you rush on, eager to give him what he wants in order to get what you’re after. “She loves you. Now, please, baby…c’mon.”

“S’right she does. Just look at her soaking my hand so pretty. Sucking my fingers in. Greedy little baby, isn’t she?”

“Please?” You whine pathetically and he hums in approval.

“Love a girl with manners.” He’s teasing now, with both his words and too gentle touch. “Reminds me of a someone I used to know, she’d beg so nicely for my cum whenever she was thirsty.”

Your nails dig into his wrist in warning and it sparks a laugh out of him. “Jacob didn’t tell me you had such a jealous streak, girl. I like that very much.”

Finished with his games, you reach down and find your clit, stroking quick, slick circles over it. Writhing and panting, trying to get there before he stops you.

Rather than scolding, he praises, as his fingers begin moving with a purpose deep inside you. “That’s it, darling. So pretty. Show me what a filthy girl you are. Take what you need.”

“Faster…” you breathe, barely making a sound as your head drops back, expression twisted up in bliss. “Fuck me faster.”

His hand quickens, working into you at a lightning fast pace until your thighs are shaking and the nails of your free hand are raking over the upholstery.

Here, love…” he hands you his cane to grip instead. “Let’s not ruin the velvet, right?”

All thought has sizzled apart in your brain, so you nod aimlessly and grab it up in your frantic grip, squeezing around it so hard it stings your palm, though you don’t much register it.

“Gonna cum,” you manage to whisper.

“Let’s have it then.” He encourages, reaching up to stroke your cheek as he twists his wrist, scissoring those perfect fingers inside your fluttering cunt. “Come on, darling, let’s go.”

That’s what does it. It isn’t his hand, or even your own, that finally pushes you over the edge, it’s those gravley, coaxing words, in that fucking addicting accent. It’s Oliver, he’s what does it.

A near scream moans out of you, and he’s suddenly wrenching the cane out of your hand, only to place it between your teeth; a makeshift bit as he growls into your ear. “Keep quiet, girl. What if he’s back? Wouldn’t want him to hear your cumming all over Oliver’s hand like a whore, would you?”

You thrash and fight through your orgasm beneath him, teeth sinking marks into the wood stifling your incoherent cries.

“S’good, sweetheart. That’s lovely. Plan to shut that pretty mouth up with my cock next. Would you like that? Has he throat trained his gorgeous girl yet? Will you be able to swallow me right down?”

He knows you’re too gone to answer, he’s simply winding you tighter, working you through, but keeping you stirred up enough that you’ll be eager to suck him off rather than float off to sleep, after. Clever, devious, delectable, man.

You’ve pushed him away and fallen to your knees the second you can breathe again.

“Love a pretty girl on her knees.” He muses, brushing the hair away from your blushing face. “My cock hurts from watching you. You’re a dream when you cum, love.”

The metal of his belt clinks into the room like wind chimes as you pull it open. “Can I fix it?”

His response comes lazing out, thick with accent, with a Jack Sparrow wave of his hand “You may.”

You pull his cock into the cool night air and sigh, “Its so pretty.” And it is, it really fucking is.

Licking a warm, wet stripe along the side, you end with a swirl just below the tip, smiling when a shiver rattles through him.

“Is that the spot right there, Oliver?” You purr as if you don’t know. “Does that feel good?”

“Perfect, darling.” A tiny pant of a breath escapes him, making you crave more.

Sucking him in softly with a warm kiss, you wait until his hands find your hair with a tug, and then swallow him down to the base - allowing a gag just to let him feel your throat constrict around him.

With a choked groan, he holds your head still and buries in a little deeper. “So he did train you…or is this natural talent?”

He knows the answer as well as you. And you flush with heat at the countless memories of him nudging further and further down your throat; gently teaching you how to take a bit more each night until you could welcome him in one go without batting an eye.

Still, he pulls you off and tilts your head up by your hair, raising a brow in question.

“He taught me.” You blink up innocently. “I didn’t know how before, but he was so patient with me while I learned. Let me show you.”

“Jesus, fuck.” Jake appears for just a split second before he shakes it off.

Back in character now, he pulls you back down around him. “Go on, then, love. Swallow it down nice and sweet.”

You pull out every stop, every trick in the book. Every little thing that has ever made him moan in surprise, or thrust into your mouth…he gets it.

Your nose is pressed against the soft plush of his stomach when his fingers tighten in your hair. “That’s so good, darling. You’re so good. Gonna hold you still, fuck that pretty face, that alright, love?”

You nod eagerly around him and swallow just to feel his body tense up in pleasure. You get your wish and beam inwardly with pride.

“Did that on purpose, dinnit you, girl?” He hisses, grabbing for the upper hand. “You’re gonna get it now.”

He taps your face, a subtle reminder of how you should tap if you need to stop, and then - without warning, begins fucking your mouth. It’s hard, and deep, and fast, and sloppy…wet sounds that should make you blush echoing through the room. It’s dirty and slightly uncomfortable. It’s all of those things, but it’s perfect.

Staring down at you, with eyes so full of love and lust it makes your heart ache, he nods. “Good girl, darling. Good girl. You look like a bloody angel, cock down your throat, letting me fuck it like this. You just want to make me feel good, don’t you?”

You answer with your eyes.

“S’right, love.” He slides in deep and groans in appreciation when you ripple your tongue. “Again.”

Tongue working him as best you can, you let him hold you there until your lungs are screaming for air. He pulls you off when he feels the slight struggle, lets you catch your breath and then shoves right back in.

When his thrusts begin to falter you grow desperate to taste him, but at the last minute, he yanks free, one hand still tangled in the roots of your hair, the other fisting over his cock.

“Open up.” He demands, sounding weak, and so close you could cry you want it so badly.

Your mouth falls open, and you present your tongue in waiting.

“Gonna feed it to you, girl.” He pants, gritting his teeth. “Would you like that? You want to taste me?”

Resting your hands primly in your lap, you nod. “Yes, please.”

Your little display of innocent decorum while asking for something so depraved sends his end crashing into him wildly. He jerks his cock roughly through it, warm cum spurting into your mouth and splashing across your cheeks and lips.

Accepting it all, happily, you wait until his shoulders slump with a drawn out fuck, before closing your mouth to savor him.

He stares down at you for a long, smoldering, stretch and then tucks himself away before leaning in. “Looks like I’ve made a mess. I’ve been known to do that, y’know. Apologies.”

With a kiss, though your lips are still dripping with him, he straightens and stretches. “You wait here, darling. I’ll go fetch Jacob to clean you up. Not really Oliver’s thing. You understand.”

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[ohbo-ohno]

bo, first of all i adore your writing!!

but you've mentioned a few shall we say 'darker themed' books you've read in asks here and there, can you give some recs of your faves?? pretty please??

first of all, i love you! and also yes always, i never mind giving book recs! i sorta ramble under the cut, sorry lol

alright i'll start with the darker romances. these are hard noncon, and depict abusive relationships that aren't always framed as bad. when i say dark i mean dark lmao, always be aware of what you're going itno before you read a dark romance

If you like my fics, I can almost guarantee you'll like Taken by Felicity Brandon. This is about an author who writes dark erotica and gets kidnapped by a fan, who forces her to live out some of her scenes. Includes petplay! I have my issues with the book (and I DNF'd the sequel) but ohhhh the smut is so good

I mentioned them a while back, but Measha Stone's Owned and Protected series is a 6 book series with noncon/dubcon petplay in every single book. Calling these "romance" is a stretch, but god if you like my noncon petplay stuff (and you're alright with reading explicit noncon and forced relationships), you might like these

I haaated the ending of Distorted by Nyla K. but dear fucking god it is a good prison dark romance. Also it is SO Ghoap coded, I would recommend reading the first ~80% of it lmfao

Corrupt Idol by Dinah Harper is the first book in a series that will probably never get finished, but honestly it's pretty good as a standalone. Dark step-brother romance, and I thought the writing (at least in the first half) was so good, I genuinely felt for the FMC at times (even if I was screaming at her)

Ok I'm not confident in this rec because I'm still not suuuuper sure how I feel about this book, but Torment by Dylan Page is a dark step-brother biker romance. The FMC is the MMC's "rock", and the only thing that keeps him from flying off into a violent rage when he's upset, and he develops an unhealthy attachment to her that everyone around them allows because they don't want to deal with him. I never read the second book, but this is another one where you really feel for the FMC

One of my favoriteeee dark A/B/O (specifically the first book) is Born to be Bound by Addison Cane. I would suggest not reading anything past the third book, and I'm not a huuge fan of the side plots, but the stuff with the FMC and MMC is just. God it's the perfect brand of dark A/B/O (in MY head)

I've recommended it before, but for my truly fucked in the head followers - Under His Heel by Adara Wolf is probably the darkest book I've ever read. It's a four book series (and I think the whole thing is worth reading) and it's got every single trigger warning except for (i think) scat, pedophilia, and necrophilia. it has rape, incest that's also rape, extreme body modification (though it's not permanent), severe public humiliation, severe mental torture, and just about 0 aftercare for our MMC. The book follows a man in a far distant future who's working as an indentured servant to pay off his debts & his incredibly sadistic and evil master. These books are far from "for everyone", but if you really want some fucked up romance (with heavy smut) I think these are worth reading!

aaand some softer dark romances. to me, these are books with some lighter kidnapping or soft noncon, abuse in a mental but not physical way, and MMCs who just think they're in the right

Gemma Weir's Montana Mountain Men is like an acid trip and it's kinda crack, but i read all 7 in like a day, so take that as you will. Each book is about a different brother in the same family as they fall in love - except, in this family the men supposedly know who their soulmate is the moment they lay eyes on them. So there's some light kidnapping, some manipulation/unhealthy behavior, and some birth control tampering in these. For what they are, I enjoyed almost all of them lmao

The Darkest Temptation by Danielle Lori is like a kidnapping romance written for non-dark romance readers tbh. It toes the line of noncon/dubcon, and it's definitely a kidnapping romance, but it's really not that dark.

Nicky the Driver by Cate C. Wells is (in my opinion) not as good as the first book in the series, but it's way lighter in terms of darkness level

Shiver by Ella Frank & Brooke Blaine is a stalker romance that fell a little short for me, but was overall enjoyable (iirc lol). It's about a young man who goes into a kink club and attracts the attention of the owner, who then stalks him. I think it just wasn't as dark as I wanted tbh, but if you like lighter dark stuff I think you might like this!

#recs #this got long sorry #asks and answers