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aphrogeneias · 5 months

Text

mad sounds

pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader

warnings: smut (+18), floor sex, 69, dirty talk, eddie refers to himself once as "daddy" but no daddy kink, sappy ending.

The low light of the recording studio makes him glisten, catching on the thin sheen of sweat covering his tattooed chest, on the silver gleam of the ring on his nipple as he lays on the rug on the floor. His dark eyes are closed, reddened lips stuttering praises for your ears only.

Eddie wanted to show you a song, after the producer was satisfied with the day’s work and everyone was sent home to rest. You stayed behind, and he got more than just the pleasure of showing you his new lyric.

Your hands rested on his thighs while you took him in your mouth, breathing through your nose and savoring the taste of him. The tip of his cock hits the back of your throat as you hollow your cheeks, letting your tongue do the rest of the work.

He whimpers as you come back up, using your hand to stroke him and sucking on his leaking head, working

“Baby… Baby, please.” When you look up at him, he's looking right back at you, brown eyes turned black. Bull-eyed, his hair a dark crown of ivy around his head, your liberator. The altar on which you place your worship. “Just like that.”

Your mouth descends on him again, eager to please him. A hand that was dutifully placed on his side raises to grab your hair, guiding your mouth gently up and down his length, lazily fucking his hips up into you.

Your nails claw on the skin of his thighs as you let him your mouth, tears pooling in your eyes. He's whispering sweet nothings you can't really understand, blood pumping in your ears, focused on giving him what he wants, what he needs.

Eddie is speaking more loudly now, his voice clearer. “Come up here, honey. Please? Please, I need you. Need to taste you. Need that drooly pussy in my mouth, hm? Bring that cute little cunt to me, gotta have ‘er.”

He pulls you by the hair, off of his cock. You moan at the sensation, chest heaving with your labored breathing. You gather yourself for a second, wiping a little mixture of precum and spit from the corner of your mouth, and you can't help but smirk. “If you insist.”

You make quick work of your panties, feeling the sticky pool of wetness cling to your folds before you slide the lace down your thighs and off of your legs in a short moment, keeping your skirt on.

“C'mon, c’mere. Let me have you. Let me give it to you good, baby.”

His voice is raspy, deep and full of want. You can't deny him when he sounds like that — not that you ever do.

“So impatient.” You tease, but you turn around and maneuver yourself to straddle his face, one leg at a time. He hums deep in chest at the sight of you, right above his face.

“That’s it. Come to daddy.”

Strong, calloused hands grab the soft meat of your thighs to keep you in place, and as you lower yourself to take him in your mouth again, Eddie eagerly latches his lips on your pussy, using his tongue to kiss it as if he would your mouth.

You're biting back a moan as you lick him from his base to the tip, flattening your tongue and tasting him before wrapping your lips around him again. You work together in tandem, as he guides your hips to grind over his tongue, alternating between this and sucking on your clit, you take him fully, unable to moan as you choke on his cock.

Where there once was music, not the only sounds that echo through these walls are the wet sounds of your sex, and the muffled moans that vibrate through your skin. You feel him in every inch of your body, skin to skin, his skillful tongue and full lips bringing you to ecstasy, the delicious weight of him in your mouth.

It's overwhelming, when it washes over you. You hold him in your hand, pumping him slowly, almost missing your rhythm when you come, Eddie holding your spasming hips in place, drinking the honey that drips from your hole, clenching around nothing.

You keep working him through your orgasm, and it takes just a little more to bring him to the edge. You wish you could see him now, his head thrown back and his pale chest rising and falling rapidly, whimpering while you suck him as he comes, swallowing every drop he has to give you.

The two of you lay there as you come down from your highs, you head resting on his hip where you can see the lines tattooed there. He gives your ass a weak slap, and you giggle weakly as he watches it jiggle, rough hands massaging you right afterwards.

Rolling off of him, you don't waste too much energy crawling upwards, and cuddling to his side. The rug is a little rough on your heated, sensitive skin, but Eddie is warm and inviting beneath you, and his arms come around you the moment you settle in.

“Thank you.” You coo at him, eyes filled with affection. A small kiss to his nose is a token of your gratitude, and he knows you're not thanking him for the head spinning orgasm he just gave you.

“I'm the one who should be thanking you.” The rasp in his voice is not gone, and neither is the lovelorn look in his pupil-blown eyes.

“You know what I'm talking about. It's not everyday a girl gets a song written in her honor.”

All he does is smile, the lines on his face and his dimples capturing your whole attention. “Yeah, well… it's not everyday a guy like me gets a muse like you.”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fanfic

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namazunomegami · 4 months

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Mélange

Pairing: Okkotsu Yuta x gn!reader

Synopsis: Sometimes humans are not above animals. Sometimes they burn to fulfill the same basic needs and not strive for more in the moment. A full belly, safety, procreation. What happens when all three of them need to be satisfied? Tinged with spice. Under the influence of an unknown substance.

CW: aphrodisiac, dubcon, slight somnophilia, feral and animalistic Yuta, he has cannibalistic thoughts, licking, lovebites, scratching, biting, slight pain, handjob, premature ejaculation, fingering, Reader can feel Yuta’s ring during fingering, slight dacryphilia if you squint, implied multiple rounds, porn with feelings, good old unprotected sex + creampie, both Reader and Yuta are ultra possessive in their own toxic way <33

WC: 3.6k

Credits: my dearest @notveryrussian for proofreading this mess and doing a bit of rework on the tenses <33 the cannibalcore pics are from pinterest

Song rec: needles and pins by deftones and gibson girl by ethel cain both give a nice vibe to the fic as we slowly transition from Yuta's POV to Reader's POV

A/N: Can't believe I'm posting my first one shot here 🥹 After so many unsuccessful attempts to wrap up multichaptered fics, at least, this one messy smut got finished. My first ever finished fic 🥹 And the first to get completed in a relatively short time. Yes, a week is a short time for me. And happy holidays to y’all, this is gonna be the last fic in this year so expect only shitposts from me from now on lmao.

Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated <33

Minors do not interact or else I'm gonna go apeshit, also a seperate warning for heavy dark content as usual. If there's anything mentioned in the tags that you're not comfortable with, this is not your fic.

Many sorcerers envy the title of special grade. Yuta thinks these people deserve a separate Naraka in Hell. They don’t realize the immense responsibility, they can’t fathom the challenges, the danger of the missions. The threat those curses pose. They only care about the power he carries.

During today’s mission, Yuta realized he’s not entirely an unstoppable force. Even someone like him is weak to certain fighting styles, he can’t counter everything with his wide range of copied techniques. This curse’s grade was well deserved. Whenever the katana slashed deep into it’s skin, a strange kind of gas was emitted from the wounds. Though he eventually exorcised the curse, he did breathe in the weird, sweet-smelling substance. The scent was hard to resist, it felt like the perfect mixture of all his favorite smells, inviting and comforting. However, he trusted his body to withstand the temptation, reinforced to near perfection with cursed energy and the usage of reversed cursed technique.

There was no problem until he finished reporting back to the higher ups and was on the way home. Maybe it was just the fatigue, the late summer heat, the humidity of the night but something made him feel weird. Almost sick. A thin veil of sweat glistened on his skin, his cheeks, ears and upper body were flushed. His chest was heaving, a burning, aching sensation tormented him between his legs, throbbing with a synced rhythm to his heartbeat. All his thoughts narrowed down to one single, inherently primal thing. A need. A hunger.

Shame and confusion swelled inside his chest. How can he lose his composure? How can he want it so badly? If he wasn’t so wired for monogamy, he would have fucked anyone who moved. And with every passing minute the feeling was getting worse. Descending slowly to the brink of madness. Hell, he was close to wheezing and growling like a rabid dog. He already had no patience to find the right key to the door. He could break that shit, he definitely could. He had no idea why, but he could stop himself from doing that. Maybe the insane price to get it fixed.

But the comfort of his home isn’t helping him. He can’t calm down, he can’t unwind. On the contrary, everything intensifies the strange urge in him to act territorial. But it’s only natural when he grew up feeling like he didn’t have anything he could call his own, whether it’s a material possession or a person. Every comprehensible thought vanished from his head. Leaving only the instincts. The need to claim. He immediately goes to the bedroom, not even bothering to have a quick shower or a light meal.

He gazes at your sleeping form, unknowing and peaceful. Innocent and vulnerable like a newborn lamb and he’s… he wouldn’t compare himself to a wolf, he’s a more vicious predator than that, all starved and keen on capturing its prey. Your limbs are thrown in every direction on the mattress, a thin, silk blanket barely concealing your body, but you’re hugging a some of it to your chest. Like you’re missing him, finding solace in the way the material is touching you. The windows are wide open, hoping that the night air can cool you down.

Yuta caught himself almost drooling at the sight. He can’t stop himself, he can’t fight the shameless thoughts plaguing him. The need, the want is stronger than what he deems right in the moment. His steps are quiet, that part of the floor that normally creaks is now completely silent. He looms over you, like a sinful, ungodly spirit, your very own kanashibari that’s bound to you. His weight is pressing down on the mattress ever so slightly, caging your form between his arms. He breathes in the smell of your freshly showered skin. A mixture of heady vanilla, milk and honey. He mindlessly licks a stripe up your thigh, wanting to taste you, to bite you, to tear out a big chunk of your flesh with his teeth to satisfy this torturous hunger he feels for you. More than anything he wants to devour you. Completely. Have you all for himself. The thought alone makes his dick so hard it’s outright painful.

He ascends towards your hips, leaving soft yet wet kisses that make you twitch in your sleep. Yuta swears that he’s more sensitive to all stimuli, his senses are working at their maximum capacity. He’s able to feel every morsel, every particle of you. The soft peach fuzz, the bumps, the ridges of your stretch marks, their pearl-like glistening texture flowing on the surface of your skin like a river. The material of your shorts, loose and thin, he can feel the seams on the band of your underwear through the fabric. Where the bones bend, where flesh folds. Your smell. Not just from the shower gel and the laundry detergent but your natural scent, so strong he believes it’s some kind of weird pheromone that’s driving him wild. To the point he almost considers nudging his nose between your legs, just like dogs do when they smell blood there.

Maybe it’s not entirely wrong to claim you this way. He can spare you from this more primal side of him, you won’t get to see it and despise him for it. It’s enough if he deals with the shame alone, self-deprecation is his ultimate talent afterall. But that can wait until after he finished soothing this excruciating itch. Because now the last remnant of his resolve goes out the window.

He pulls up your shirt all the way up to your chest. His shirt to be exact. It makes his heart flutter, a piece of him enveloping you, makes the boundaries between your sense of selves blend and blur. The thought of you using his stuff as your own feels so right, so promising.

He practically glues his face to the expanse of your stomach. The flesh is so soft between his teeth, feels so good to bite on it, so easy to suck on it until the skin turns a deep purple.

And maybe… maybe he can lower his crotch onto your knees. Just a little. Just for a little friction…

You stir, opening your eyes slowly, tiredness and confusion are still heavy on your expression. And then you feel teeth nipping at your stomach, fingers digging into the dips of your hips firmly, some wetness here and there along your leg.

Your first response is fear.

You start to squirm and fuss, kicking your legs up in the air, not even thinking about who’s doing this to you until Yuta grips your shoulders and pushes you back into the sheets, keeping you still by the weight of his own body, shushing you. You can feel his nails penetrating the skin, branding the crescent Moon itself into your flesh.

“It’s me, don’t panic.”

You’d recognize this voice anywhere, but you blinked a few times just to clear your vision. The striking white of his coat is easy to spot, even in the dimly lit darkness of the room.

“Yuta…?”

Your voice is an ode, a blessing. Even when it’s hoarse and faint after waking up. He bends down and kisses your temple, nuzzling into your hairline, breathing in your scent. His body feels oddly warm, almost overly so, radiating through you. Through your spine, to the very center of your being and that’s when you notice that you’re a little bit… hot and bothered. What has he done to you while you were asleep?

“I’m so sorry…” he whispers an apology. But his voice is just… it’s like his mind is not entirely here. Something is hurting him and he’s trying to conceal it. Barely. You can hear his voice is hitched from the deep breath he takes, in a futile affort to calm himself. “Have you been sleeping for long?”

He asks you for the sake of it, there’s no genuine interest behind it. Even if you were sleeping for hours, it wouldn’t stop him. He couldn’t stop. He genuinely feels like he’ll die if he can’t get it out of his system. He snuggles his face into the crook of your neck, listening to the rhythm of life coursing through your veins. The thought of puncturing your jugular with his teeth is so irresistible. He must do it… It’ll drive him insane if he won’t.

“N-not really.” your answer is weak, all your strength is used to move your arm freely, trying to locate your phone on the bedside table. The light coming from the screen almost blinds you as you’re checking the time. “I went to bed about… half an hour ago.”

He dips his fingers right into the hollow dips between your ribs, he kneads the skin in a way that has his nails slightly scratching you. And then you realize that you’re almost entirely topless.

He traps your earlobe with his teeth, sucking on the soft tissue.

“Y-Yuta…” your voice is more reprimanding that you want it to be. But your patience is starting to run thin. You want to know what the fuck is wrong with him, he never did anything like this before. Even if he’s horny as hell he would ask for your permission because that’s the way he is.

Instead of giving you an answer he bites your neck. Hard. It hurts, it makes you yelp. Shit, that’s gonna leave a mark. And he growls, just like a wild animal.

You squirm, you jolt, trying to get away from the source of your pain with a prolonged hiss. Only one hand of his is enough to stop you from fussing while the other fondles your chest. Your nipple is caught between his fingers, he twists it slightly. You can’t see it getting red, hard and swollen. His moves are awkward and tactless, but somehow they help with soothing the sharp pain in your neck. Your tensed body eases up a little.

He kicks the inner side of your knee with his own, creating a little space in between them, then forces your legs apart with one smooth movement. As he tries to settle right under your core, you feel him brushing the apex of your thigh.

He’s so painfully hard.

You’re sure he can read the instinctual reactions of your body. The rush of adrenaline, your pulse, how your heart is almost breaking your ribs with every beat. You’re getting more and more aware of your surroundings because you have no idea what will happen to you. He pins your wrists down on the bed. He doesn’t want you to escape.

What has gotten into him? Where’s your shy and gentle man, your sweet little angel? The one who needs so much guidance, who gets so awkward about his lack of experience compared to you. The one you need to encourage to talk about what he likes since you won’t judge him for it. Well, angels shouldn’t be benevolent and sweet, right? They’re the soldiers of god after all. And the depth of his psyche is still very much a mystery to you…

“I don’t want to hurt you… I just need you.”

He has no control over his own thoughts, everything on his mind gets blabbered out. Not just that he needs you, but that he wants to fuck you (he rarely uses that word so you’re even more baffled), that he wants to eat you up, bite for bite, digest you so nobody else can have you.

It sounds devoted yet utterly terrifying.

“You’re-“

He’s scary. Well, you knew this prior to crawling into his life. What people thought about him, one rumor more unhinged than the other and you have no idea how much truth there was to them. Everyone has some sort of admiration, respect for him or repulsion of him. You just tend to forget sometimes, how malicious his cursed energy feels, how his eyes never reflect the light, looking outright dead. But it’s all so contradictory to his personality… you know that you’re dear to him, he’s willing to risk everything for his friends, he’s so starved for connection, to carve himself a place within people’s hearts. You blamed the whole phenomenon on Rika. And you took pride in yourself, for taming a monster.

“I feel so…” he suspires, trying his best to contain himself. “… weird.”

And he’s a kind monster indeed, even now, controlling his impulses as he humps your thigh like a feral dog.

“I don’t know if I’m able to hold back, so I need to know….”

His voice is desperate, almost a plea. He’s afraid of himself too. With the last bit of his sanity, he wants to make sure that it’s alright for you, whatever he has in store for you.

You don’t protest.

His lips crash into yours in a violent, hungry kiss. Your teeth clang together, he shoves his entire tongue in your mouth. He grabs the hem of your shorts, peeling off anything that covers you below the waist. You hear the fabric tear. It’s the same with his own clothes too, in a few blinks of your eyes he’s already stark naked.

He takes your hand, pulls it towards him, you can feel him in your palm. So hot, hard and swollen to the touch. He closes your fingers around him and his hips start moving back and forth, fucking himself into your grip. You smear the precum along his length with your fingertips, squeezing lightly when you feel the base. It has him moaning, breathily, more vocal than he usually is. He’s so sensitive, his pace quickens and his voice is thinner, almost like a whimper.

And he groans. Unexpectedly. It bursts deep from his throat. You feel his cum pooling in your palm. Though you may be surprised, you don’t make a big deal about it. You search for tissues on the bedside table to clean your hand like nothing happened.

“Feelin’ okay?”

Your voice is calming, tender, it warms his heart but the mere sight of his cum on your hand makes the blood rush to his dick again.

You sit up to caress his face. You open your mouth to question him, but he won’t let you start your aftercare routine.

“It’s… not enough.”

He grabs your thigh, hooking your leg over his shoulder, giving him better access to your naked core. Your back falls onto the mattress again.

“I’ll take care of you.”

It’s a promise, you’re sure of it.

His fingertips sink into your folds, relief ripples through him when he finds them already wet. He goes all out on you, his thumb circles your clit and two fingers dip in at your entrance, waiting to loosen you up so they can be pushed inside. His nails gently caress your inner thigh, it’s a tickling sensation, goosebumps dot your skin, a sigh dies on your lips. Treating it as a sign, his fingers start stretching your walls. They curl and curl inside you to the point of the cold band of his ring touching your folds, your essence soiling the stainless metal. The symbol of the haunting spirit of his first love. Childish love that it is, unserious, all just a game. The promises… the word forever holds no weight. Or maybe it does but they have no idea how hard it is to maintain those vows.

Can you ever compare to Rika in his eyes? Have the same effect over him? You don’t dare to talk about it just yet. No, the nature of your relationship is not the same. Childhood love is not like adult love, you just want some reassurance. You want to feel important.

And your reassurance is soaking that wretched finger with your juices. Make that wretched ring yours. He spreads his fingers inside you, scissoring you apart, eagerly working to prepare you. You’re holding onto the sheets and the pillows desperately, your body feels so volatile you might as well float away.

When he pulls out you feel hollow, incomplete. But he won’t keep you waiting long. The head of his cock feels like salvation. Scorching hot and wet with the mixed arousal. And he completes you with one smooth thrust. You’re whole, fulfilled, a merged existence worth suffering over. He’s throbbing deep within your walls, pulsating through your nerves. You can’t tell if the noise coming out of him is a moan, a whine, or a growl, you only know that it’s bordering on bestial. Filled with need, an ache, coupled with something beyond your comprehension.

He drills into you, there’s so much strength and resilience in him, it almost makes you scared. But something else also swells inside your chest. An unknown kind of excitement, a thrill, it makes you feverish, wired. The dissonance between his absolutely feral state and the fact that he’d never hurt you. Or maybe he would, in a way that you’d like it. Nobody could bite through your throat with such force that your windpipe breaks, only him, him and no one else.

He holds you at the back of your pelvic bone, lifts you up in an utterly perfect angle. You mewl him that it feels so good, so perfect, so raw. You love this feeling so much. You get completely lost and immersed in it.

“…it?”

His voice is faint yet his broken self-worth shines through it. Poor soul… You didn’t pay attention to his most important desire. He’s a parasite living off of your kind words, but nothing can make him as blissful as knowing you love him, despite everything he despises about himself. And you’ll feed him. Prove it to him that he matters more than the things he does to you.

“Oh Yuta, my sweet…” the rest of the sentence gets stuck in your throat as you open your arms and he crashes into your embrace like a lost, lonely puppy. You hug him tightly, brushing through his locks with a free hand. The sweat makes the strands stick together. “Of course I love you, don’t be silly.”

He might as well have been a puppy in his previous life. And now your words eased his guilt about his temporary condition. He gained your forgiveness.

What he does next is much more instinctual. He folds you in half, where your knees bend, is pressed right against his traps, your heels graze the middle of his back. Now his thrusts have weight, uncovering spots that even you had no idea that existed inside of you. Tears of joy prickle in your eyes, calling upon whatever deity’s name you can think of, off the top of your head. You can swear his pace increases at the sight. It’s so intense a broken cry erupts from your throat.

He thrusts right into a sweet spot, which has you melting and trembling. Please is the only word your lips can form. At this point, you couldn’t care less about the lewd sounds of your skin slapping together or the squelching noises that make the whole act sloppy, shameless and primal, you only want to reach your peak, and you’re not far from it as you’re clenching around him with a rhythm that you have no control over.

It crashes, it ruptures, sudden, sharp and hot like an electric spark. A scream empties your lungs, but Yuta muffles it with sealing his mouth onto yours. You feel yourself getting filled as you’re convulsing around his length.

After he fucks you through your orgasm you feel yourself shaking, your whole body is limp, numb, drifting slowly to sleep. You’re both soaked in sweat, your bodies stick together but there’s a need to bond further in each other’s embrace. You plant a kiss between his locks, praising him, telling him you love him. Satisfaction clouds your mind, like a soft, pillowy pink mist.

However, his cock is still not soft.

“I have no idea what has gotten into you.” you tell him, marveling, as you’re still catching on your breath. “I like it though, but you owe me an explanation.”

He handles you gently, like you’re some precious thing, made from glass, fragile. Your body is like a ragdoll’s, he has you lying on your stomach, lazily, flatly, you might as well fuse together with the mattress. Calloused fingers are drawing nonfigurative shapes on your shoulder blades.

“I’ll tell you right after we finish.”

Your blood runs cold for a moment.

“Again? Yuta, for the love of god I’m exhausted.” you whine.

He apologetically kisses your spine.

“Just this one, okay? Please? I’ll do all the work, I’ll make it quick. You only need to relax, you can sleep even.”

You want to tell him that sounds a little bit creepy, but you don’t have the strength to talk. He kisses the two shallow dimples right above your tailbone. His gaze lingers on your folds, admiring how red and swollen you are.

“If you manage to make me cum again, you deserve a fucking award.” you comment, face nuzzled into the pillow, your voice is obviously snarky.

You can feel teeth sinking into the flesh of your asscheek. The mark that is burning on your neck found it’s pair. He presses down your overly sensitive clit with his thumb, balancing the pain out with pleasure. But it gets overstimulated so easily, you feel the need to bite the pillow.

You brace yourself with a deep breath through your nose. You’re going to pay him back next time, you promise yourself that you’ll make a begging, crying mess out of him, and the thought makes you chuckle.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk smut #yuta okkotsu x reader #okkotsu yuta x reader #okkotsu yuuta x reader #do not perceive me please idk how I came up with the whole cannibalcore pipeline #yuta okkotsu x you #jjk x reader #meesa writes

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moonlightazriel · 2 months

Text

Acotar Males: Yelling at you and watch you get horny over it

Summary: “i wish you could wrote headcanons where the acotar men yells at reader and instead of being sad or hurt, she is squeezing her thighs and has heart eyes bc it’s hot and they look so hot being mad”

Warnings: SMUT, jealousy and cursing.

Word Count: 1K

Notes: I loved writing this hehehe

Main Masterlist

Rhysand:

He’s pacing around the room, power sweeps through his control at the thought of another male flirting with you.

You notice the sour mood he’s in, sitting on your vanity table as you start to remove the jewellery adorning your neck.

“That fucker was flirting with you.” Anger laces his voice, the animalistic tune sending shivers down your spine and reaching the wrong parts of your body.

Clenching your legs for some friction as that burning rage gaze locks with yours through the mirror. Your cunt throb and you know you shouldn’t feel this way especially cuz he’s fucking yelling at you.

But all you can think is him angrily pounding on you from behind, your face pressed in the cold surface as he fills you up to the brim.

He caught the change in the scent, a cruel smirk creeping up on his beautiful face.

“You dirty little thing, you like that, don’t you?” His voice is raspy as he approaches you, ready to give what you want.

Cassian:

Cassian wasn’t the jealous type, he trusted you and knew you would never cheat on him, but something about that fucker with his hands on your waist, guiding you on a very slow dance, when it should be him dancing with you, that drove him insane.

He had enough, leaving his spot by the throne in the Court of Nightmares, and grabbing you by the waist, throwing you over his shoulders like you weighed nothing, and compared to his bulky figure you probably didn’t.

“Never, ever again, let those filthy males touch you.” He yelled in your face, he had you on the tips of your toes, caged against his strong arms and a wall, his eyes looking at you up and down. “You’re mine.”

You knew he was angry at the male and not at you, but you were on the receiving end of his anger, but instead of sadness, lust coated your thoughts as they wandered to what he would do with all that anger in bed.

“Please fuck me.” You blurted, he looked at you with a smirk.

“As you wish, princess.” He said riding your skirt up and squeezing your ass, giving you a pull until you wrapped your legs around his waist.

Cassian fucked you harshly against the wall, sucking on the skin of your neck and marking you so no one would ever be bold enough to touch you again.

Azriel:

A whole day gone, he hasn't heard from you for 12 hours. To say he was angry was a light way to put things. He was simmering with rage.

And there you sat, cunt throbbing, clenching around nothing as he yells at you, the angrier he gets, the vein on his neck popping and his face getting redder, the wetter you get.

He’s so lost in his mind that he almost didn’t notice the little whimper you let out as you pressed your thighs against one another for some kind of relief.

Almost is the key word, as your sweet intoxicating scent hits his nostrils and he’s a starved man, stopping mid sentence to feel that scent, his favourite fragrance in the world.

“You’re turned on?” Sarcasm drips from his tone, he stalks closer to you pulling you up by the wrists in a swift motion. “Let’s see if you take me seriously after this.”

He sits down, pulling you on his lap, ass in the air, he slowly drags your clothes down, the cold air in the room hitting your exposed cunt.

“Just 5 slaps, and you have to count.” He warns before he descends his palm on your ass cheek, leaving a red imprint of his hand and you a whimpering mess begging for more.

Lucien:

It was hard for Lucien to get angry, or even snap at you. He was just the sweetest male ever and would treat you like a queen.

You however craved something more, you wanted to ignite that fire in his veins, let it burn you and consume you whole.

Lucien reached his boiling point when he saw you bathing your eyelashes to another guy, he saw red, before gently grabbing you by the arm and pulling you with him.

You could already feel the mess in your pants by that gesture alone, but when he sat you in bed, yelling at you for letting that guy even near you, you lost all control.

Lucien took a deep breath, the fresh air mixed with your arousal awakened that fire in him, making him go to you, holding your face in between his hands.

“It was on purpose, wasn’t it?” He demanded, you didn’t trust your voice and just shook your head like the good girl you were.

“Then darling, you’ll have what you wished for.” He says, ripping the buttons of your dress open and pulling a breast to his mouth.

Eris

The day had been stressing as fuck, meetings and more meetings and more meetings, arrogant lords trying to get in between things that didn’t concerned them.

Eris felt the anger boiling to a point he couldn’t barely keep it together anymore, so he decided to call it a day and go to your shared room.

There you are, the tiniest nightgown ever, books and papers scattered around in bed, he just wanted to lay down and relax. He didn’t register his words and he regretted them as soon as they left his mouth.

“Can’t you be organised for once?” He had yelled, you looked at him, and that gaze burned your whole body, sending a wave of pleasure straight to your pussy. You didn’t even know why this turned you on, but his heavy breathing and the way he was looking at you had to be the hottest thing ever.

“I’m sorry my love.” He said in a rush, kneeling in front of you, trying hard not to look from the exposed skin of your cleavage, where your breasts spilled from their thin confinement.

“Can you talk to me like that again, while you fuck me dumb?” He took in her hungry gaze and with a hand around her throat, pulling her in for a heated kiss, he said.

“Whatever my goddess wishes.”

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luveline · 10 months

Note

Ok this sentence from your hotch fic "You're so busy, I could never," you say, shaking your head.

got me thinking what about a lil story about a non bau gf being very upset but trying to hide it from hotch bc he’s busy and she doesn’t want to add to his plate

hope this is ok!! —hotch assures you he's never too busy to listen if you've been upset by something, 1k♡

You're doing the dishes when it starts to come back. It's weird that the nature of the things that hurt us is their ability to come back, to metastasise while we're unaware; you think you're doing a good job at moving forward and the claws of it sink into your back, your chest. One talon at a time.

You ignore it, focusing instead on Aaron behind you at the dinner table. The sound of papers fluttering across each other as he turns a page, the click and drag of his pen as he writes. You can picture his cursive, and the frown he wears as he works.

You're dying to tell him about what's hurting you, but beyond feeling small in the eye of the storm that is his job, he's been busy, evidenced by paper work at home and a yawning gap of communication. This is the first time you've seen him all week. You dread filling the time (wasting it, even) with something that doesn't concern him. It barely concerned you, someone else's unresolved issues turned to a bad mood and all the fallout on your shoulders.

"Is something wrong?" Aaron asks.

He's like a shark for emotions, your tiny sniffle a drop of blood in the water. You wipe your nose with a soapy hand and shrug casually.

"Nothing's wrong. Are you nearly done? Maybe we can watch a movie."

Aaron stands up. You stiffen at the sound, but relax when his hand squeezes your shoulder. He braces his hands on the countertop and leans forward, looking at you. You meet his eyes. Usually so serious, softened slightly by worry.

"You stancing up on me?" you tease.

He doesn't buy into your jokes. You clear your throat, wondering what you might be able to change the subject to. You've been thinking about asking him if he wants to get a pet fish with you, an aquarium—

"You're upset by something," he says. "I think it's best if you tell me."

"You think?"

"Please, honey."

You set the last dish on the drying rack and dry your hands slowly, buying time. Aaron indulges your behaviour though he undoubtedly knows what you're doing.

"You're really busy, Aaron, I don't want to put more water in your levy."

You've barely stopped talking when he begins. "If this is about my being busy, put it out of your mind. You know better than anyone that things have to wait sometimes, regretfully, when I'm working, but I'm here now." He fixes you with a fond smile.

"Exactly, you're here, so let's not waste time on silly stuff that's bothering me."

Aaron bears his weight on his hip against the countertop, taking your water-warmed hands into his, tacky skin sticking as he rubs your knuckles. Easing your forward with a gentle pull, one of his hands runs up your arm until his fingertips are nudging under your sleeve. An encapsulating hold, it says, I'm right here. Not too busy. Nothing too silly.

And still, he says aloud, "Time talking about how you feel isn't wasted, even if you're upset by something small."

You frown then, nose aching, eyes burning, because it doesn't feel small at all. "Are you sure you're not too busy?" you ask weakly, a high pitch attempt to salvage it and keep hiding how upset you are, but a simultaneous giving-in.

"No," he says softly, all empathy as you descend into tears, "of course I'm not too busy."

He hugs you close right there in the kitchen. Words won't come out and your shoulders shake under his hands with every attempt to explain it to him, not just that something bad happened to you, but that it's been really heavy to carry alone, and that weight being taken from you —by him, and so easily— is a moving relief.

He pulls it out of you, an explanation made of fits and starts, and he gets mad on your behalf, but he pushes it aside to talk you through it. When you can cry without nearly choking yourself on breathlessness, he sways you minutely from side to side.

"I knew something was upsetting you," he says, still so gently, "but I didn't know it was this bad. I need you to let me know. I'm sorry, honey, but I need you to tell me when it's bad like this if I miss it."

You shudder in a breath. "It's not that bad."

You both know it's a lie. Aaron pulls you in for another good hug, hand at the small of your back rubbing a dedicated circle. Your shirt bunches up and he takes a handful of your naked skin, thumb tracking around, his cheek pressed to the top of your head. "It's okay," he murmurs. "Take a deep breath. I will always be here for you, you know that?"

It's odd to hear him strung like that. You take a deep breath like he asked you to, arms clasped behind his, your face too hot in his neck.

"Even if I'm busy, I'm here at the end of the day. I promise. If I'm sitting at the table with you, that means I'm waiting for you." He cracks a small smile, his hand at the nape of your neck encouraging your head back. The other hand, dedicated to the patch of skin just above your coccyx, rubs upward. It releases a little of the tension building in your spine. "I love you, honey, I'm busy, but never too busy to hear what's wrong. Never."

"You'll make me cry worse," you whine, letting him tip your head further back again, hand at your cheek now giving a soft squeeze. You blow a warm breath out at his thumb.

Aaron kisses you lightly, lips only half-touching.

He pulls away. "Let me make you something to drink, hm?"

Thus begins a night of adoring pampering and over the top doting. You pretend it's too much, but it's really, really perfect.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #criminal minds #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble

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dabisqueen · 11 months

Text

Need

Dabi x fem!Reader

⇢ word count: roughly 1.5

⇢ plot: Dabi gets home and is kind of wound up. He needs you to help him out...

⇢ warnings: 18+, minors DNI, rough manhandling, couch-sex, steamy kissing, cunnilingus (female receiving), fingering, rough sex, multiple orgasms, creampie, use of Dabi’s fire quirk, marking (Dabi makes a red handmark on reader's skin)

⇢ personal note: a little reward for @/the-beard-of-edward-teach

The sound of the door being slammed shut echoes through the tiny apartment, announcing the return of your boyfriend from his mission to gain new members for the LOV.

"Oh hey baby, how did the recruit–" Your words are caught in your throat when you see the expression on his face.

You can tell he is mad. Really mad. Yet, his eyes hungrily take you in.

Oh shit…

Dropping his coat on the floor, he's at your side in an instant, grabbing you by the waist and swinging you into his arms, striding with long steps toward the couch.

He throws you down onto the cushions, lurching right on top of you.

“What the—?” You ask, dizzily.

"Shut up." He commands and settles himself between your legs, hooking his hands under the seam of your shorts, yanking them down. Just hearing that fierce, possessive voice of his makes your legs fall obediently apart.

"Dabi–" But you can't finish the sentence, not with him grabbing your pants and igniting his quirk.

"Told you to be quiet…" A blistering heat arises, the burnt shreds of the remains thrown across the room with one casual swing of his arm. Your eyes catch a glimpse of his erection straining against the stitches of his pants. It gives you just enough time to suck in a breath before he dives down and starts his assault on your sensitive nub.

His mouth descends on your clit, tongue stroking over it in a way that drives you instantly crazy. Alternating between hungry licks of your sensitive pussy and dragging his tongue back and forth over your clit, you squirm, getting wetter by the moment, causing you to quickly rise toward your climax.

“Ah fuck, you taste so fucking good—” he groans against your pussy. He's going rough, which is both delicious and aggravating at once. It awakens a need inside of you, a need for him to push a finger inside you, to do all kinds of filthy, dirty things to you. Your entire skin prickles with awareness and your pulse starts to race.

"Touya–ahhh–" you moan as he finally plunges his fingers into you without warning, curling them against that sweet spot of yours. Between Dabis' fierce licks of your pussy, you whimper, his need for you driving you crazy. You're getting closer and closer to your high, the rasp of his tongue against your clit becoming almost too much. Then, his hot lips latch around it and he starts sucking.

Without a warning, you come.

The orgasm pounces through you like a storm, making you arch and goosebumps ripple across your skin. You throw your head back as your legs close around him and a scream rips from your lips. Dabi rides you through it and it's so filthy, the way his slurping sounds echo off the walls.

He growls, pinning your thighs apart again, his tongue dipping inside your entrance to taste all of you. "So fucking sweet—”

Panting, you slowly come down from your high. Dabi raises his head and you look down at his face, with his mouth gleaming, wet from all your juices.

"I need a minute—" you pant, dizzy and breathless.

"M not fucking done with you yet." He growls low in his throat, and then his big body pushes over you. The clink of his belt buckle tells you what he is about to do. Another quick dive into his pants, and he frees his throbbing cock. You glance down and see it dripping with precum. Taking it in his palm, he slides his hand along its impressive, pierced length, playing the head of it against your soaked folds.

You catch your breath, surprised again at how good that feels. How good everything feels with him. Every time.

Dabi fits the bulbous head of his cock against your core, wetting it, and then pushes forward, swiftly, burying himself balls deep at once. Your mouth drops open into a sinful moan—

—because even though you're dripping wet, you never get used to how thick and girthy he is.

He pulls out, his gaze riveted to where you are joined, his dick glistening with your juices/slick, and then his gaze flicks up to lock with yours. Without a warning, he starts pumping into you. It forces the air from your lungs the way he thrusts into you. Dabi’s hands grip your hips, digging his nails into them, raising them to meet his before he thrusts into you again. His movements are feral, he picks up speed, his thrusts taking on urgency. The look in his eyes is possessive as he pumps into you, over and over again, heavy balls slapping against your ass.

“Dabi s too much,” you cry out, impaled on his cock as you struggled to adjust to his speed.

“Shut up and take it—” A low growl builds in his chest, deep and rumbly.

Mind-numbing sensations spiral through your body with his movements, and your arms fly up to hold onto him. Your bodies come together so roughly that you are slammed against the armrest of the couch, your back sliding over the coarse fabric of the couch, making your skin raw.

His thrusts take on a fiercer edge and the harder he drives into your body, the more IT heightens your own pleasure. You feel the stir of another orgasm starting to build in your belly, when one hand slips between your bodies, his calloused thumb pressing through the folds of your pussy, finding your clit, starting to rub against it. You gasp at the sensation, arching your back. Faster and harder he claims you– and your fingers clawing into his shirt, closing your eyes while he focuses on that one particular spot that will make you scream again.

You can feel your body clench around him, your pussy tightening in response to the impending orgasm. You're almost there— but you need more, need something else to give you that little push. As if he knows, his next thrust is followed by a sudden heat on your hips. Dabi doesn't break his gaze when the heat increases and you realize what he's doing. Shocked, you try to writhe away from him.

He doesn't let you, keeping you right there, his hand steady on your hip. The heat turns into stinging pain that shoots right up your spine. And it's exactly what you need, what lights you up like a dynamite fuse.

You cry out, digging your nails into Dabi's shoulder when you come undone around him. Everything shatters inside you, and you give a choked cry as your insides clench and release, the orgasm battering through you. The nasty wet sound of his cock thrusting into you fills the room while your tight silken walls continue to milk him.

"Fuck," Dabi growls, his own movements becoming erratic and he shudders as his own release finds him. You feel his cock throb with each shot of his cum, twitching as the heat of it sweeps through you. Dabi continues to thrust into you, fucking back every drop of his essence, but he's coming so much that it squelches out. It's so naughty, the way your juices –mixed with his cum– stick in a frothy mess to the base of his cock and leak down your ass.

He leans in over you, his chest pressing to yours, and then his lips are against yours, claiming your mouth in a heated kiss, his tongue flicking against yours. It's as forceful and messy as the sex you had. There’s a slight musky taste to his mouth, and you realize you're tasting… yourself.

“Dabi–” you moan, still dizzy, still clinging onto him.

"Fuck, baby I needed that." A raspy groan comes from his throat as he pulls back and out, his cock –hot, sticky, and still twitching– pressing against your folds. "M sorry. Shitty day…"

"Don't be, it's not like I didn't enjoy it—" You laugh breathily, still trying to catch your breath.

Then his gaze falls on the angry red handprint on your hips. His face turns into an apologetic grimace before his azure eyes flick up to meet yours. He strokes a loose strand of hair behind your ear, “Are you okay? Did I hurt you too much?”

“Just a little bit,” You interrupt him with a kiss. "But it's ok. I got off on it."

“That's my girl—” He chuckles, directing soothing circles over the red burn. “I'm sure, it will fade."

"Next time make sure it doesn't." You tease, a hand raising to idly play with his raven strands.

He stalls, his blue eyes taking you in for a moment, contemplating. Then his lips curl up into a wide smirk and you gasp as you feel him getting hard again, pulsing against your puffy folds.

Oh no…

"Shouldn't have said that," he snorts and grabs you by your hips to flip you around. "Ready for round two?"

#dabi smut #dabi x reader smut #dabi x you smut #bnha smut #mha smut #dabi x you #dabi x reader #dabi x female reader #dabi x y/n #bnha dabi smut #mha dabi smut #tw branding

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fraugwinska · 6 days

Note

What about the reader found and old radio, they thought the radio was broken but it's not, it's just antique.. when they play it at night time alastor broadcast was heard first they feel something is odd.. but they love to listen to his voice, heck they even like talking to each other, because of this encounter alastor talk about it to rosie, she was happy hearing alastor telling her stories but she feel odd when alastor mention that the person he talks to is a human, Rosie giving him advice to not fall for human because they're different species, and it will make him weak etc.

Alastor feel guilty and agree with rosie advice so he's stop contacting the reader from the radio, he thinks that the reader will be fine but no the reader take it personally.. they thought alastor don't want to talk to them anymore.. it drive them mad and lead to suicide..

So yeah angst :D

Oh Anon. What have you done.

I cried while I wrote that - it took two very good friends of mine to encourage me to post it (Thanks to @macabr3-barbi3 and @mysterypotatoink). But I think it's tragic and beautiful, and honestly - I'm kinda proud of it!

TW: Psychological Trauma, descend into madness, loss of self care and suicide - please take care of yourself and do not read if you aren't comfortable with any of the mentioned! MINORS DNI

Here we go.

❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️

Leap of Faith

You carried in the last box from you banged-up minivan. The old thing barely made it to your new home. A little cabin in the outskirts of New Orleans, a little off the grid and surrounded by the peaceful and whirring bayous of Louisiana.

A fixer-upper, just like yourself.

The online auction had intrigued you the second you found it, the photos were a bit blurry and you knew it was a risk to buy a place you've never set foot in, but something in you called you to get it. The price you paid was laughable, barely making a dent in your savings. Moving states sounded scary and impossible, but you felt oddly calm about it.

You didn't have a lot of stuff to move anyway. After all, you only lived with your late grandmother, and she never really cared for material things. Your parents left you at her doorstep, never to be seen again.

Caring for her in her last, sickness-ridden years had been a no-brainer - it felt like nothing in comparison to all she had done for you - but it also had been a bit lonely.

You had your friends, if you could even call them that, but you rarely saw them - guiding your nan through the last months of her life had been demanding and time-consuming. It had left you exhausted and emotionally unavailable, and after a while, calls and texts ceased, until it was just you and her. You felt lost, as if the world was slowly pulling away from you.

When she finally died, peacefully in her sleep, you felt sad, relieved and drained.

Detached from the city you lived in.

Lost.

So you decided to sell what little you inherited, except for a few sentimental mementos, and move away from it all. To start a new life, a happier one, finally one that was truly your own.

You took the final box inside, setting it on the coffee table and wiped the sweat from your brow. You looked around the little cabin: The roof had some spots that needed a patch, and the wood floors were a bit warped, but it was all yours. No more having to share anything with anyone.

The cabin came furnished, a lot of the stuff was old, but still usable. You figured that would change once you settled in and had a vision of what you wanted and needed to buy. The thought of thinking about no one but yourself made you nervous.

But a little excited, too.

The old furniture would do for the moment, but there was a particular piece that caught your eye: an old, vintage cathedral radio, sitting nestled in between a cracked wooden box and a tarnished, bronze candle holder in a bookcase that was a bit out of place in the tiny space. With a tilted head, you stepped closer to inspect it, drawn to it by it's unique character and beauty.

It looked as well-loved as it looked well-used, the mahogany a bit scuffed, the knobs a little worn from years of being turned. But there were golden details etched into the front, and you traced them lightly with a finger, strangely touched and intrigued.

You were certain the old thing didn't work, but when you plugged it into the nearby socket, static erupted from the speakers, making you jump back. You had to smile, though.

Tonight, you wouldn't be alone. You'd have this little device and a little music for good company.

***

"I'm home!" you announced to no one in particular, as you closed the door behind you, your hands full with overfilled grocery bags full of necessities, waiting to fill your empty cabinets.

The day had been hot, but a welcome breeze of the impending night break cooled the inside of your little cabin a bit. With a quiet grunt you set the paper bags down at the small kitchenette. Your groceries were quickly dispersed, and you put on an apron you saved from your grandmother as you got started on dinner.

You hummed as you cut vegetables and boiled water. It had been a long time since you had cooked, really cooked, your nan wasn't much for eating and had no problem living off of simple soups and toast. When you opened your fridge to get some butter, your glance fell onto the radio.

A little music would be nice, you decided, and you walked over, cleaning your hands on the red, frilly cloth around your waist before you turned the dial. The soft sound of static made you hum in contempt - yup. Still works. A little turn to the left, and the room was filled with a soft jazzy tune, the melody a bit grainy, but you didn't mind that at all. You returned to the stove, swaying your hips to the beat as you worked. The music made you feel at ease, and for a moment, the world seemed to be just right.

Just as the onions began to brown in the pan, the song faded out to a voice. You turned your head to the radio, intrigued by the unusual, eccentric accent of the host. It reminded you of the old, vintage films and recordings your grandmother had been fond of - wasn't it called 'transatlantic'?. Whatever it was, it made you smile.

"Now wasn't that a kick in the head, dearest listener? I sure hope you enjoyed the little musical interlude, but it's time to return to the real show! As usual, my name is Alastor, and you are listening to the best jazz, blues and swing music that Hell has to offer!"

You blinked, a little puzzled and yet amused. "Sure is hot as hell today, strange man in the radio.", you mumbled, chuckling as you stirred the bell peppers under the caramelized onions.

"Today we have a very special guest joining my humble broadcast, it seems. Pleasure to meet you, darling, quite the pleasure!"

"Oh who? Me?" you asked, looking theatrically over your shoulder with batted lashes, shaking your head over your own silliness. You weren't used to talking out loud to yourself, or even really thinking out loud. You were always alone, after all, but the little pretend-play was fun. You laughed a bit, waiting for the host's guest to speak.

"Of course you, little dove. Who else would I mean?"

You gasped, and nearly dropped the spoon as you whipped around, eyes glued to the humming, orange glow of the radio in the dim darkness of your living room.

"What's that? You're surprised, my dear? Don't worry, you're not the only one! This is a first for me, too. Never had a human join my program. I must say, I'm quite intrigued! Tell me, what is your name?"

Your eyes grew wide, and the hairs at the back of your neck stood up. You took a hesitant step backwards and hit the hot stove, making you curse under your breath. Was the heat finally getting to you?

"Don't be shy now, darling. I'm not gonna hurt you, cross my lil' old, blackened heart."

"I-I'm..." you began, swallowing as your fingers tightened around the wooden spoon. "My name is..."

"Yes?"

"I'm... crazy.", you mumbled, rubbing a hand over your face and chuckling a bit. You were just going insane, that's all. Must be the stress, combined with the intense heat. And lack of a companion, a tiny voice reminded you. Yes. Must be.

"Hello crazy, this is Alastor." The host laughed, together with a canned audience.

"Alastor...", you repeated, realization settling in - this wasn't a joke, or a trick of your mind.

"At your service, my dear.", the voice cooed. "Now, I believe you still owe me your name..."

***

You weren't crazy.

Or if you were, you didn't mind. Not with Alastor by your side - or, to be exact, in the radio on your bookcase.

After two weeks of ignoring the cursed radio after unplugging it in a wave of panic on your first night, your morbid curiosity got the better of you. You plugged it back in, and turned on the dial. Just once, you told yourself, then never ever again.

And that's how the two of you got in contact with each other once more. Alastor was as chipper as the first time you heard him, and after a bit of back-and-forth, he promised once again not to harm you, and you shared your name with him. The rest was history. He was very pleasant company. For a demon from hell.

You wouldn't classify the conversations you had with him as a real friendship in the beginning, but you did talk. Occasionally. Mostly in the evenings, when you cooked dinner: He'd ask you about your day and would pry eagerly for a little bit of gossip or new information about the modern New Orleans. When he let it slip that he lived in this very cabin in the 1920's, you weren't stopping with questions about what it was like back in his days, which he, in return, answered generously and enthusiastically.

The first few times he would try to coerce you into making a deal for your soul, casually sprinkling the offer into his small talk, but with enough blunt refusals and a few more days of radio silence (pun intended), he dropped the topic and seemed content on just talking. You, in return, found yourself relaxing into his charming company, your brain happily engaged with trying to wrap your head around him, or better, you tried to come to terms with it.

Weeks passed, and turning the radio on in the evenings became less of an occasional lapse of judgment but more of a routine you were looking forward to. You could tell the Alastor felt the same, his banter became less tense and acted, and a little more genuine.

It made your heart swell in happiness, that someone out there seemed to appreciate your company – even if that someone wasn't human.

Apprehension became amusement, and fascination became friendship. Oddly enough, you found common grounds in a lot of things: A love for cooking and good music. Preferring books over films. Red wine over white. A shared aversion of vulgarity, and appreciation for good manners.

Your nights were cut shorter and shorter, you would spend hours chatting on and on, until the deep darkness of night disappeared into a shade of blue on the horizon. Neither of you minded, at least that was what you thought. Alastor never ended the conversations with you. Either you had to say your goodbyes, or you would just fall asleep after hours of talking on your couch, and awake with a pained back to a shut-off radio. Then, after you'd realize that you would have a whole day ahead of you without hearing his voice, the loss would make your chest ache.

Two months into the 'thing', which was still a strange concept you could barely comprehend, the truth of the matter dawned on you: You liked him. Not just because he was a surprisingly amicable voice coming out of your vintage radio, a lively constant in the uneventful life you had made for yourself in Louisiana - he had become important to you, irreplaceable, even. An essential element to your life. You couldn't imagine how you'd gone so long without him, and yet, here you were, lost without him, scrambling through the hours until you could talk to him once more.

"Something on your mind, darling? You're awfully quiet today."

You held your fork and knife still above the salmon you had just been about to eat. It was the first meal of the evening in a long time where you weren't spending the entirety of the preparation time speaking to him, lost in thought about your blossoming feelings. He had gotten excellent at reading you like an open book - you should've gotten used to it after a couple of weeks of him catching on to every little change in your demeanor and knowing just what to say, when you were feeling happy, upset or nervous.

"Oh, um... no. It's nothing Al. Work had me in a wringer today."

"Is it your co-worker Susan again?" You could basically hear his eyes rolling, making you chuckle. "That name must be cursed, every single soul with that name is a menacing pain."

"Maybe,", you muttered, nibbling on a piece of the roasted fish. "This one is mostly just an ornery old bitch."

"Taking the words right out of my mouth, dear." he laughed.

There's was a comfortable pause, with just a gentle background noise of his ever-playing static and an easy, melodic tune coming from his program.

"Is that really all that preoccupies that pretty little head of yours?"

You blushed, picking at the food with your fork. "Bold for a guy who's never seen me to assume my head is pretty."

The radio crackled with pops and feedback. "Bold to assume I can't see you whenever I want, little dove." he said, his voice strangely deeper, tinged with something you didn't catch at the shock of his words.

"You... what?"

"And I can most assure you,", he purred out of the speakers, "pretty is a well fitting word to describe you."

He hummed in approval when your cheeks gained color, as if he knew his comment threw you off guard and made you turn a lovely shade of pink, but it didn't make it any less enticing.

***

"Alastor, if I didn't know better, I would say you have become smitten with this mysterious gal you're blabbing on and about."

Rosie giggled, hitting his shoulder in a playful, friendly swipe. "When will I meet her? Come on now, you can't hide her forever. Or are you afraid she'll like me better?"

She laughed, and Alastor forced a toothy grin. His long time friend was the only one he talked about you with, and he knew she was intrigued whenever she could smell a blooming dalliance, especially with a notoriously abstinent bachelor like himself. Normally, he would laugh at that thought with a healthy dose of mockery, but he found himself to be less and less aversed at the thought - if it would be you. Impossible, of course.

"Nonsense, Rosie dear, nonsense,", he chuckled, taking a large sip from his coffee cup, a heavy hand bringing up a plate stacked with finger sandwiches. "And I'm afraid you won't meet her for a long time, maybe never. Humans seldom traverse to hell in their lifetime, and who knows if the little darling will take on the trip downstairs?"

Rosie coughed in her tea, her blackened eyes wide in shock. "Human? It's a human girl you've been courting here? Oh, Alastor, you old fool."

Alastor scrunched his nose, "Talking, Rosie, talking is all we do. And yes, she's a human. I don't see the quandary in that. It's just a little fun."

"Well,", she huffed with a small, thoughtful frown. "I would've hoped for a little more sense in you." The tall demonesse set down her teacup with nimble fingers.

"You may not call it courting, but if it quacks like a duck, it's a duck, love." Rosie ignored the indignant look Alastor gave her. "You know as well as I do that such a connection is dangerous to entertain. Humans are fragile and fragile things tend to break. And when they do, the owner mostly follows. You need to break this connection off."

Rosie gave him a sad look as his ears flattened against his head. She would've been more than happy for her oldest and dearest friend to have a partner on his side, someone good and honest who really cared about him, maybe loved him even, as unlovable as he was. But she had to protect him from the silly idea of possibly falling for a living, breathing and supposedly untarnished soul, and the heartbreak that would surely follow. "Don't make the mistake of breaking your heart, dear friend." she smiled, a tint of melancholy hidden in the red of her lips.

"I think it's far too late for that."

She offered a handkerchief, but Alastor waved her off, his smile more faint and close to a frown than she's ever seen.

***

The first day where nothing but static noise came out of the radio, you were irritated but just thought: 'Maybe Alastor has something to do'.

The second day of static you grew concerned. 'What if something happened to Alastor? Was he okay?'.

On the third day, you were panicked. 'Maybe he doesn't want to talk to you anymore! Maybe he met someone in hell, someone that he could talk to whenever he wanted and not through an old, dusty radio?'.

"Please talk to me.", you whispered into the empty room. Your knees were pulled to your chest, and you sat on your couch, eyes fixed on the radio in the bookcase. Your eyes stung with the tears threatening to spill. "Please, Al. I miss you." You shook your head, chuckling sadly. It had only been 3 days, but they'd felt like an eternity. The world had seemed silent without Alastor's constant chatter.

When night fell for the fourth day, you were half asleep, eyes red and burning and tears still staining your cheeks. You talked for hours into the void of your house, the radio now moved to sit in front of you on the coffee table, growing more and more desperate as hours passed. Talking faded into pleading, and pleading into begging.

"Please, I'm sorry, if I did something wrong, I'm sorry...", you mumbled into the wooden furnishing, resting your cheek against the top of the machine, eyes slipping shut with fatigue and defeat. A dry sob slipped past your trembling lips, as your hands desperately grabbed the sides of the antique device.

"Alastor please, don't leave me alone here...", you whispered with the last of your strength, before your body succumbed to your exhaustion, your unconscious mind welcomed the darkness.

If you had stayed awake for just a moment more, you would've, maybe, heard the faint shuddering breath beyond the static rumble. But you didn't. So you had no chance at knowing that, Alastor, listening to every word, saw and heard you at your weakest, and all it did to him was stir the embers and give the blaze an opening for the flames of his anger at fate to rage.

Work had called, again. Susan of all people. Threats were made - either come back to work, or don't come back at all. You smashed your phone. It was useless anyway. What was the point without...

Alastor wasn't here, hadn't answered for seven days now. And you had spent the whole time talking, begging him to show himself, just show himself and tell you what you did wrong, just talk to you one last time and then you'd stop, if that was what he wanted. You became obsessed with the orange light of the illuminated screen, imagining the flickers were maybe signs from him.

You stopped eating, stopped drinking, stopped almost anything, you just sat, in front of the radio, unmoving and unwilling to miss the smallest sign of his return.

Every single minute stretched into agony, and every breath that left your lips made a fresh tear roll down your paling cheeks, until your body couldn't produce them anymore. Then, you cried wordless whimpers and moans, even started praying to an unknown entity.

It wasn't as if Alastor owed you anything. It's not as though you thought the two of you were anything other than two kindred souls, one human, one demon, talking to each other. As a result, it wasn't like you had the right to anything from him.

It was strange to consider the connection the two of you shared: Something more than acquaintances, something closer than friends, and yet never fully crossing the line beyond it. The unpenetrable boundary dividing life and death in between.

Your eyes fell on a large, old crucifix on your wall, staring back at you with pity.

For the first time in days, you left the sofa, took it from the wall and burned it on your gas stove, watching the face of the nailed figurine slowly melt in the fire.

***

It had been eight days of excruciating, one-sided silence.

Eight days Alastor cursed his cowardice as he sat, red eyed with claws digging into his scalp, as he listened to you plead for him to talk - To answer. To do anything. Anything, but leave you alone, he heard, as if the words were spoken right in his ear.

Eight days of watching you slowly detriment from the eyes of the shadows he was able to manifest above, tugging on the very fabric of the world to move you, to keep your mind from going where it shouldn't go.

He kept telling himself it was for the better. His shadows murmured persistent reminders that he should find entertainment in your growing lunacy. He was the radio demon, after all. He shouldn't care if this wisp of a human were to perish, should laugh at your wails of agony and despair.

But Alastor never felt less like laughing. Your dried sobs and pained apologies for things you never did wrong in the first place filled his head, taunting and gnawing on him with feelings he thought he was unable to feel: Guilt and Regret.

It was as Rosie had predicted - he was becoming weak. But weakness was something that should be avoided. Had to be. He knew. Being weak, being feeble, would make him vulnerable, make him into the prey his cruel from already portrayed to the world he had to inherit. He couldn't allow it. Couldn't let his feelings for you bring him down to the levels of the sinners in hell he would tear apart and laugh while he did it.

That's why he stayed silent. Endured it, all of it, every word, cry and plea. Stayed invisible and silent, waiting for you to move on, forget him, shut off and leave the radio, never to turn the dial again. For your sake and his.

When the connection broke, on that eight day, Alastor could feel your resignation, your peace with which your pale hands gripped the electrical cord at it's base to pull. And he was suddenly filled with the awareness of something horrible, like a premonition. It set his already battered, aching heart in an ice cold grasp of dread.

His room exploded in green light as he expanded into his full demonic form, his limbs threatening to pull and burst at the stitches and his smile splitting his face almost entirely in half. He had to reach out, had to reform the connection to the radio one last time, even though nearly impossible.

You were about to do something he would never be able to forgive himself for.

***

Your car broke down just where it needed to. You took the radio out of the trunk, knocking the hood two times for a goodbye, the key safely in the ignition. Maybe some other poor soul would find and repair it, make happier memories with it.

You clutched the wooden device closer and started to walk. Indigo blue faded into black as you looked up to the sky that was sprinkled with glowing, shimmering silver dust, stars blinking in the unimaginable distance. There, but out of reach.

Just like him.

Your dry sob stung in your throat, but you didn't really feel the pain. Your eyes were fixed on the path to your final destination, right in front of you.

The Crescent City Connection Bridge was mostly abandoned by traffic at this time of night and provided just enough covered spaces to hide you from some foolish saviors eyes.

You didn't need to be saved.

You didn't want to be saved.

Because you were about to save yourself.

There was nothing waiting for you in the other direction than the one you were going. So, with slow but steady steps, you walked towards the middle of the bridge, settling on a place next to a metal pillar and looked over the railing onto the shimmering waters of the Mississippi River.

Alastor had told you about the river, how he loved to watch the steam boats floating on it from the radio station where he worked at when he was alive. The station was long gone, you didn't even find out where it had been in the first place, but you liked to imagine that you were looking at the same scenery now that he had been looking at when he peered out of his booth in his radio tower.

It made you smile through the tears... You were glad the end was somehow connected to him, even if it was most likely just your naive imagination.

It felt like the device in your arms was emitting static energy, prickling over your arms, hands and fingers as you caressed the mahogany wood gently, feeling as though the radio was shaking in your hands, trying to pull you back from the fenced ledge.

A quiet sob escaped your lips, turning into a giggle and into hysterical laughter. You sat down between the railing, and hugged the radio close, trying to breathe as you closed your eyes, resting your temple on the worn, warm wood.

"It'll be okay, Al.", you said quietly, your voice unnaturally hoarse and rough from lack of use and dehydration. "I'm coming. I'm coming to you.”

With one arm around the radio, holding it tight against your chest, you turned to stand on shaky legs, gripping the railing with one arm and, with one final glance at the stars above you you smiled. You heard sirens in the distance, and some people shouting from a sparkling streamliner passing under the bridge. Time was running short, so you didn't wait to put first one foot over the fence, then the other, taking a deep breath.

"I guess doves were always meant to fly."

And, with that, your body twisted, turned and leaped, falling as the light on the radio, firmly pressed against your heart, began to glow in deepest crimson and swirls of green.

Falling like an angel would descend from grace.

Part 2 for closure

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #fraugwinskawrites #angst #trigger warnings #minors d #minors don't look #minors dont touch #yes I'm crying #you're crying too #we all cry here #no judgement #quickf #quickfic

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slut4sugu · 5 months

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𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐘 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔— (E!42 Miles x Fem!Black Reader)

ʚ 🍓ɞ including: toothrotting fluff, miles being soft, use of the n word, use of nicknames/pet names: ma, princesa, guapo ʚ 🍓ɞ Genre: fluff ʚ 🍓ɞ Summary: reader and miles are in the middle of a thunderstorm and the power goes out which leads to some nighttime silliness

Back to masterlist . Best Part: H.E.R

THUNDER ROARED OUTSIDE YOUR APARTMENT AS YOU SAT PROUDLY ON YOUR SHARED BED; 2 boxes of flavored chapstick laid out in front of you. Looking up at your boyfriend you gave him a playful smile, who in turn gave you a ‘ is this some shit you saw on TikTok?’ look. “Mami what is your sneaky ass up to?” You giggled, before explaining to your boyfriend you wanted to do the chapstick challenge. Opening both boxes and storing all of them in a little cloth basket on the bed, “So I get to kiss you until I guess the right shit? Bet.” You rolled your eyes at miles, though you also had wanted to find an excuse to be the center of his attention for a period of time, and this was perfect. You were about to tell miles that he had to close his eyes when you both were suddenly enveloped in darkness, the power had gone out. “Stay here ma, I’ll go light those candles I bought you.” “Jesus nigga don’t leave me in the dark-“ “Ma, I dont need you bumping into walls tryna find my lighter.” Your lip jutted out in a slight pout, though then formed into a smile once you felt a kiss being pressed into your forehead. “Just don’t fall off the bed.” Rolling your eyes, you felt him leave the bed and heard his footsteps descend out the door. You let out a cackle as you heard miles curse after hearing a thud, “Keep laughin and ima throw badtz out the window.”

Once he returned into your shared bedroom, the rest of the apartment was now dimly lit, the features of your boyfriends face now appearing more attractive under low lighting. His stoic expression now more handsome under closer inspection, his low eyes causing your heart to race slightly. Feeling your gaze on him as he walked over to your dresser light one last candle he asked, “See somethin you like ma?” Eyes still on the candle as he said this, though he could almost picture your cute embarrassed expression. “Just get over here so we can start this.” You stated, nails fiddling with the bottom of miles graphic tee. (That you totally did not steal from his closet.)

🍓 ( one blindfolding minute later )

You rummaged through the bin before finding a flavor you were sure he couldn’t guess, coke. Miles had always said that the two tasted the same and that it didn’t matter one way or the other. After coating your lips with it you kissed miles. (Since he was blindfolded) Your hands cupping his face while doing so, pulling back too soon for miles’s taste. Kissing you back, his hands found their way to your hips, your mind slowly starting to go blank as you felt his tongue runs across your bottom lip, “ That’s def coke, right mami?” Miles asked though already knowing the answer as he pulled back from the kiss, admiring your cute pink lips and your even cuter embarrassed expression. You hated how he could make you crumble like that with just words and his touch alone. “..yeah.” A smirk tugged at his lips before you sucked your teeth, and flicked his shoulder with your nail. “Don’t be a sore loser princesa, you even got a kiss out of it.” He teased further, before pressing another to your cheek. “It’s real cute when you try and be mad at me mami, I know you can’t be for long.” His hands tickled your sides causing you to burst out in giggles. “O- okay okay!” You tried to escape by wiggling out of his grasps but miles trapped you underneath him by laying his body on top of yours. His face now buriedin your neck as he finally relinquished his tickle attack on you. “Still mad at me?” You sighed despite the big smile on your face, “No, but only because you’re cute when you smile.”

“..Shut up.”

“Love you too guapo.”

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cheekylittlepupp · 4 months

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I know everyone loves the evil power couple trope with Ascended Astarion, but what about something angst?

What if you slowly descend into madness, slowly become more of a monster, more of what he feared most. The first years or centuries where you two are together you are the grounding force, you are the one helping him retain his humanity, you are the one helping him from fully descending and becoming like his master, or even worse.

But with time you slowly start losing everyone you love, everyone you care for, anyone you start making an honest connection with. They'd either slowly vanish from your life or Astarion's fits of jealousy would get the better of them. Some would die peacefully, others would find their way back to you in pieces.

You'll have to come to terms that nothing really matters, nothing except Astarion. Your master, your lover, your world, the only person who would be with you, forever, for better or worse.

This is where the roles reverse and he's the one who's doing his best to hold onto the person he once fell in love with, doing his best to not fully lose you, but even with all of his power, he feels powerless.

After you start becoming worse he decides to finally sequester you into that deep chamber he talked about centuries ago. At first you would get the occasional visits from your servants, but gradually all of those visits will subside and the only one coming through that door would be Astarion.

The only blood you will be allowed to consume will be his, he will be your life force, figuratively and literally. Your entire life will revolve only around him. Finally, you'll be the obedient pet he once wanted.

One day he would cup your face and stare into your eyes, hoping to see the person he once fell in love with, slowly realizing what he has done, maybe a tear could run down his cheek which he'd instantly brush off, burying those thoughts deep inside him, as deep as his old self was burried. "The person of your dreams, the hope of them, is your own worst enemy"

Centuries after he will finally let you out, you will be a true vampire yes, why wouldn't he grant you that when your entire life is now dedicated to him, you will be practically worshipping him, entirely devoted to him, body and soul (or what's left of it anyway) You will be a strong vicious beast ready to be unleashed whenever he desires.

Years, centuries or millena of this Astarion would slowly start wishing for an adventurer to come and end his suffering, his and yours. You dying in his arms with a smile on your face, your cold fingers touching his face as you tell him that you love him one last time, yours eyes finally closing forever. Or idk maybe both of you dying together at the same time? romantic~

#astarion #astarion ancunin #ascended astarion #vampire lord astarion #I NEED A FIC OF THIS #just a bunch of jumbled up thoughts i had lately #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #mims rambles #bg3 rambles #astarion x you #astarion angst #astarion romance #sorry tried to keep it short :c #baldurs gate 3

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inhuman-obey-me · 1 month

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🕶 with Barbatos please??👀 also yes on MC! (sorry for being specific, you can ignore it if you want but can it be directed at mc i'm not normal about Barb)

"I saw a little thing I didn't like you tried to hide." - Barbatos/MC

content warning: blood, reference to torture/gore

Barbatos has a reputation.

It is one that you remind yourself of at times, when you get lost in his sweet words and even sweeter treats. Those soft smiles, his ever-readiness to serve, his meticulous attention to detail so that things were always perfect for you – he would insist you had him wrapped around your finger, but sometimes you wonder if it truly isn’t the other way around.

After all, while you loved that side of him – one that few had the privilege to witness – you could not help but be intrigued by the part of him that reigned in the shadows.

The part of him that delighted in the slow torture of a traitor. The part of him that could use a knife to cut up a bleeding-heart artichoke just as deftly as an actual bleeding heart. The part of him that could drive someone mad just by warping the space around him, damning them to experience eternity in a matter of seconds.

Perhaps you were a bit too intrigued, your morbid curiosity having led you now to wander the dark halls of the Demon Lord’s Castle in search of him. He was supposed to meet you at the foyer earlier, but when the ever-punctual demon was nowhere to be found, you decided to take matters into your own hands. You wanted to see if you could catch the consistently composed butler off-guard, unprepared.

A fool’s quest.

You pass an archway and stop in your tracks, swearing you heard a faint scream from down below. A metallic scent pervades, your stomach churning as you take a step, and then another, and yet another – slowly descending the stairs, unsure of what you’ll find at the bottom.

It’s dimly lit, torches along the walls flickering with magic flames. Your eyes adjust, and your heart nearly skips a beat as you see Barbatos in the distance. You dive behind a wall, peering around the corner to observe.

He seems to be talking to someone, though you can’t see who. A cell, you think, as you notice the iron bars gating certain areas. The light catches on an object in his hand, something silver, and you realize he’s cleaning it off with cloth. Your own hands fish out your D.D.D., opening the camera function to zoom in and get a clearer look.

Oh.

He’s splattered with blood, standing in a pool of it. It’s a sight to behold, and you’re unable to tear your gaze away from him. Slowly, your finger goes to the capture button, taking a photo of the scene. You duck back into the passage, checking to see how the shot turned out – and chills run down your spine as Barbatos seems to be looking straight into the lens.

“Tsk, tsk.” Gloved fingers tightly wrap around your wrist, forcing you to turn around to meet a dark gaze that you knew all too well. “I saw a little thing I didn’t like you tried to hide.”

“B-Barbatos!” His name leaves your lips in a squeak. You don’t know how he got to you so fast, but you do know it’s better not to question it. “I-I’m sorry, you didn’t show up earlier and I got curious and wanted to look for you so I ended up down here and then I found you but I didn’t want to disturb you and –”

He puts a halt to your rapid explanation with a single finger against your lips, his gaze softening. “I’m sorry, my dear. It’s not like me to forget or lose track of the time. I must make this up to you immediately.” He lets go of your wrist, examining you once over before taking a step back. “But first, I need to freshen up. Shall we go upstairs?”

With a nod, you follow him back up to the brighter hallways of the castle, though he pauses once you’re at the landing. “...And what are you going to do with that photo?”

“Oh.” You can feel the warmth rush to your cheeks. “I, uh … just kind of wanted it for myself.”

“Is that so?” You can hear the amusement in his voice, see the way his lips twist into a smirk. “Well, if that’s the case, I suppose I can let your little reconnaissance slide. Next time, however,” he leans in close, breath ghosting your ear. “Just ask.”

#SORRY this is late #wrapping these up for real now #will finish up the last couple this week #but yes we're also not normal about barb totally understand #obey me #obey me!#obey me swd #obey me shall we date #omswd #obey me barbatos #obey me barbatos x mc #obey me barbatos x reader #om! barbatos #obey me nightbringer #obey me fic #obey me drabble #writings #4000 follower celebration #the all encompassing [mod] cosmos

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skyeslittlecorner · 2 months

Note

Some headcanons about Mc who suddenly leaves hell without anyone knowing (no notice (?) too, i mean not saying anything about their leaving).

I imagine that the kings have separation anxiety (hohoho love some angst stuff here 😈), but kinda wonder what's gonna happen when MC returned?

I feel allowed, and even encouraged, for some yummy angst~ We will switch order a little this time. And I *may* be a *little* biased, don't mind me.

꧁:･ ✡ ･:꧂

Leviathan tries to live without you as he did before he met you, but it's not the same. When you finally show up, he wants to hang you. But what if you leave again? No. He won't allow it. From now on, you are under constant surveillance. You're not even allowed to go to the bathroom alone (no, there's no negotiation.) He's lost too much to lose you too.

Beelzebub won't even know you're gone. You would have to literally disappear from under his nose during sex, well, a date too. In such a scenario, he would be furious. You wouldn't come back because he would find you; he has a whole army of clones, a lot of time, willingness and knowledge of the whole world geography. He would even snatch you back from heaven. Afterward, when he had you in his arms, he would think it was quite a lot of fun. But don't do that again.

Mammon has already ordered mourning in Tartaros, a huge site has been built for the construction of your own mausoleum. Have you seen the Taj Mahal? This is a dollhouse in comparison to the plans for your posthumous palace. But you're back, and you're alive! Or at least you're still alive, because Mammon is hugging you so much that nothing is certain. Now that you're back, maybe you want a huge palace to live in? He will do anything you want. Just don't leave, Master. Of course, you can do whatever you want, but... he will do anything to make you *not* want to leave.

Satan

It feels... so quiet here. So alone. His beautiful country shambles in ruin, his strong people lose their heart. He, as a king, must stay strong, but with every soldier bleeding out on the pavement, every devil loosing their limbs, every child losing parents his own will crush slowly. All he wanted to do was to help them. To make their lives easier. To take their pain and bear it himself.

"...prise, Your Majesty?"

Satan lowered the bazooka from his shoulder. His gaze was as empty as the sky beneath them. All the angels disappeared in a powerful explosion.

There was a ray of hope for Gehenna, for him, or rather... have been. But Descendant of Solomon disappeared. He looked for you everywhere. Trashed half of Mammon's palace, tore down Leviathan's ropes, damn it, he even found Beelzebub wandering around the pubs and shook all the information out of him. But nobody knew anything. He almost started a war with other countries and didn't care at all. This helplessness weighed was heavy inside him like a boulder.

"Your Majesty?"

Slowly, day by day, hour after hour, he was losing his strength. His will. Not to fight, but to live. This made him become quieter and angrier. Except for Sitri, all the nobles began to move out of his way. This only fueled his spiral of madness. He didn't sleep at night. Just fight, work and drink. If he didn't keep his mind occupied, the black void would fuel his wrath, and they had had to deal with his outbursts often enough. They were so strong that sometimes the entire castle lost consciousness.

Nothing helped anyway.

He was the king, he couldn't just leave it all behind and die. Even if he wanted to.

"Satan!"

"What."

Satan. His name. Nobody but you called his name here... He looked around frantically, but they were alone. Sitri tried to wake him up, it seems. His henchman looked concerned. It's annoying. So annoying. And he didn't mean Sitri's concern, but his own ridiculous behavior. Was it so obvious that he was worried again? He gritted his teeth and turned on his heel, heading to the hospital to assess the damage.

"Listen to me, won't you? I have significant information."

"If it doesn't concern them, I don't care."

"It does."

Satan stopped in his tracks and wanted to punch him. But this time with a hint of hope.

"Why didn't you tell me earlier!"

He did, but that wasn't the point now.

"They are waiting for you at the hospital. At least freshen up a bit before you…"

But Satan wasn't listening anymore. He ran towards the tents and tore the curtains, looking around like crazy. Only the touch of a hand on his shoulder stopped his hectic search. The voice that came poured into his emptiness, sweet and thick as honey. A familiar, beloved voice.

"It's okay, I'm back. I missed you too."

He couldn't answer, physically he just wasn't able to do it. There was a lump stuck in his throat. Stiff as a rock, he didn't want to turn around. What if this is a dream? A sweet delusion? But someone hugged him from behind, and hugged him tightly. Illusion couldn't do it.

He turned and hugged you, sliding to his knees. Kisses, caresses, love, he wanted to give you everything so that you wouldn't disappear. He needed you. His eyes were dry, but he felt like he was going to melt himself.

"Never do that again." Hoarse voice sounded like a threat, but both of you knew that it was out of love. "Never. Leave. Me. Again."

"I'm sorry." Your heart broke seeing him on his knees. "I won't."

"Promise."

You crouched down and grabbed his chin to finally look into his red eyes. For the first time since you left, hope sparked in them.

"I promise that I will never leave you, and if I do, I will always come back to you."

From now on, he won't let you out of his sight even for a moment. Not after you made him a promise that finally ignited his will to live.

PS. Try to disappear from him for a second, and he will shove Zagan's talisman up your ass.

#whb #what in hell is bad #whb satan #whb beelzebub #whb leviathan #skye's little talk #whb mammon #what can i do #it just flashed in my mind #love his depressed ass #I got permission for angst so now suffer~

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daemonwhitedove · 1 month

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𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖 𝐘𝐎𝐔.

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Reader

The death of Daemon Targaryen never had hurt you more than it should.

Inspired by Ophelia from Hamlet. The end quote is from Song of Achilles.

fanfiction | House of the Dragon

"Daemon, where are you going?" You inquire as you watches him readying to soar on dragonback with Dark Sister. Your gaze lifted to meet his, worry etched upon your visage as you observed your beloved. The war still raged, his life at stake.

Daemon turned to face you, unable to utter the truth, he imparted to you a falsehood. "Fret not for me, my love," he reassured, yet noting that your furrowed brow betrayed your unease.

He descended from his dragon, alighting before you on the earth. He clasped your hands firmly in his, bestowing a tender kiss upon them.

Your eyes locked with his. "Where are you going?" You softly inquire once more, voice quivering akin to your heart that throbbed and ached with dread. "You cannot go." It was your intuition that whispered so.

Nevertheless, Daemon sought to reassure you. "I shall return." The prince enfolded you in a kiss, pressing his lips fervently against yours, yearning to cherish the moment with you one last time.

As the kiss parted, he stroked your cheeks, brushing away the tears that threatened to spill from your eyes. "Keep this ring," he murmured, placing the silver ring in your palm.

A look of confusion crossed your visage as you gazed at him.

"Know that you are half of my soul," he whispered to you, and you were a fool to let him depart from your side.

You observed as he ascended Caraxes. The sense of foreboding only intensified as he and Caraxes soared into the heavens, perhaps never to return to you.

When he leapt towards Aemond with Dark Sister, you pondered what thoughts consumed him, his allegiance to Rhaenyra or his love for you?

As his blade pierced through the boy like butter, its edge piercing his remaining eye, was he reminiscing about you?

Did remorse grip him for leaving you bereft and alone?

Every morning you awoke to an empty bed, solitude enveloping you. The news of his demise shook you to the core, unable to contain your tumult of emotions, you wept bitterly.

Days passed, the war for the throne persisted. And you battled against the war of grief and madness threatening to engulf you completely. His remnants provided solace, soothing your tears and calming the sobs that escaped.

Rhaenyra and the others watches as you gradually descended into madness.

You sank to the ground, faltering with each step, observing as the water tenderly kissed the earth, forming a gentle ripple. The God's Eye was where your beloved had met his end with the young prince Aemond.

You prayed for Aemond, envisioning the suffering he must have endured.

Tears streamed down your face as you knelt by the water's edge, feeling the anguish in your heart. How could he forsake you so? He vowed to stay by your side, to live, to love you eternally.

You clutched the ring he had bestowed upon you not long ago.

"I shall return," he pledged as he placed the ring in your hand. The silver caressed your skin. Then he bestowed upon you a kiss, one of fervor and hunger. You could faintly feel his lips against yours, so sweet and intoxicating. He departed with his sword and his dragon as you watched from below, witnessing him slowly recede from your life.

Now you wished you had halted him.

Regardless of the throne's fate, regardless of victory or defeat, you stood resolute. The water beckoned to you, like a siren luring sailors. You dipped your feet into the water, smiling as though sensing his touch against your skin.

Similar to Queen Helaena and Daemon, you submerged into the water. Even as it embraced you tighter and deeper, pulling you further down, you only closed your eyes, gazing at the darkening and blurring sky. You tightened your grip on the ring in your hand. Not it, you could not lose it, not even in death.

Death welcomed you like an old friend, with open arms. You accepted your destiny.

In the darkness, two shadows, reaching through the hopeless, heavy dusk. Their hands meet, and light spills in a flood like a hundred golden urns pouring out of the sun.

#hotd daemon #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon x reader #daemon targaryen #daemon x reader angst #house of the dragon

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treysimp · 2 years

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"I'm not sure how else to say this, do you want to make out on my couch?"

Part 7/7

GN!Reader x Diasomnia (Malleus, Sebek, Lilia, Silver)

Tags: Smooching, implied mutual pining and suggestive themes, but nothing explicit. Reader is not physically described.

Other works in this series:

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“Oh? I’m not sure I am familiar with that term. Do explain, child of man.”

Malleus’ green eyes glitter mischievously as he places his hand on his chin. He cut a handsome figure in the moonlight. The gloss of his horns shined and his chiseled face was gracefully shadowed by his softly-curled hair. He stood eerily still, his composure hinting at his not quite human heritage.

Malleus was the most beautiful thing you had seen in your life. You swallowed audibly before you responded.

“That is… um…” he was messing with you right? You weren’t entirely sure how old he was, but you were certain he was older than you. But he was fae, you supposed. Did they use the same slang? Did they ‘make out’? You had no idea.

Malleus walked closer to you, his white teeth peeking from behind his lips. It was hard not to think about how sharp those fangs looked.

“Proceed, prefect.” He said with a smile, clearly getting a kick out of your hesitation.

“Do… Do you want to kiss me?” You said, voice shaking, all of the confidence you had at the beginning of this interaction evaporating.

Well, it was a bit more than kissing that you were asking him for, but you weren’t sure if you had the courage to spell it out just yet.

“Oh?” Malleus further closed the distance between your two bodies, causing you to step backwards into the door you had been unlocking prior with an audible bump. “A kiss? Where would you like this kiss?”

You could feel his breath on your cheek, his expression coyly hidden from you due to the close proximity of his face.

Finally, Malleus chuckled and kissed the cheek that he had purposely ducked near.

“Here?” He said, clearly holding back a full laugh.

“No.” You shook your head.

You’re glad he wasn’t mad at you, but you weren’t sure what him playing games meant either.

God, why didn’t you crush on a nice human boy? You kind of understood those in comparison. Well... okay you also didn't understand those all that well either.

“I see. Then…” Malleus moved his mouth to your earlobe and lightly pecked along the side of your ear.

You couldn’t contain the shiver that went through your body as your breath sped up from the sensation. It felt mean. He knew exactly what you wanted, you were sure of it.

“Not where I…” You trailed off. Whatever this game meant to him, you were certainly enjoying it.

“Ah, I see, I see…” Malleus moved painfully slow to lightly scrape his teeth across the juncture of your neck.

You felt like you might die happily if you were smited on the spot.

“Here?” He whispered, moist breath causing you to break out in goosebumps.

“My… my lips, Malleus, please…” You shuddered. It was almost painful having him be so close and touch you so gently. You wanted more.

“Oh? My, my, Prefect. Do you care for me so?” He had long stopped hiding his grin. This ass.

Malleus’ hand drifted to the back of your head as he knotted his fingers in your hair. Slowly, so painfully slow, he pulled you towards him. Raising your chin with his thumb, you stared at the way his feline eyes were blown out into almost perfect circles.

Eyes almost completely black, Malleus descended upon you, softly pressing his lips to yours.

It was achingly tender, it felt like more than a kiss.

It felt like words left unsaid, something far larger and more meaningful than a quick peck shared between two awkward young people.

You’d never felt anything like it.

Pulling apart just as slowly as you had come together, Malleus stares into your eyes meaningfully. Stroking your face with his thumb, you are met with an expression so loving that you briefly think of crying from the emotion of it all.

“Is that all, my dear?” Malleus questions.

You shake your head so aggressively you might have cracked your neck if you did so just a smidgen harder.

“No! I want more of you! As much as you’ll give me!” You almost yelled, courage swelling in your chest for a brief moment.

“I’m not sure you understand what you are asking, human.” Malleus says with a cocked brow, “You might want to think twice between asking for something as open-ended as that from a fae.”

“You would never intentionally hurt me.” You state with confidence.

If he really wanted to harm you, he had every opportunity. Instead he helped you, saved you from danger and spent almost every night walking with you and talking about your highs and lows.

If this was just a long con, if he had intended to hurt you this whole time… maybe you deserved it at this point.

Malleus’ eyebrows shot up in surprise. He was trying to tease you of course, but he was only half-kidding.

The problem was that if he started, he wasn’t sure if he could stop. But it looks like you had already made that decision for him.

It was for exactly that reason he loved you so.

“…I accept.”

“…Accept?” What? What was he accepting?

“Your affection.” It felt like his smile could stop your heart. “However…”

Your back straightened as you steeled yourself for his request. What did he want?

“You must accept mine as well.” He stated with a nod, as if agreeing with himself. “And…”

He leaned forward again, lips a millimeter from your own as you swore you saw the smallest amount of smoke escape from between his teeth.

“You must know that my affection comes with a price.” He said, kissing you gently on your forehead.

“I want all of you in return. Immediately.”

Your face burned hotly at the implication.

While you had just been inviting Malleus inside in the hopes of feeling him up a bit, this offer was far better than expected.

You inhaled through your nose and tried to keep your voice as even as you could manage.

“If you’ll have me.”

Grinning, Malleus pushes the door behind you open and ushers you inside the lounge.

“Oh my dear, I will.”

Sebek’s piercing green eyes narrow at you. You find yourself involuntarily shrinking back in intimidation.

Well now you’ve done it, huh?

His right hand firmly grasps your shoulder and you find yourself gulping for fresh air. You would have never described him as scary before now but…

A strand of his perfectly coiffed hair falls onto his forehead as Sebek leans nearer, unblinkingly getting closer and closer to your face.

He murmured your name quietly, and you felt how you imagine prey does in their last precious moments. Thinking of how many loud predators are at their most quiet before unhinging their jaws.

Within the blink of an eye, you were pulled forward by the tie into a stiff, yet gentle kiss.

Sebeks eyes slid back open as he slowly pulled away from you, his gloved hand drifting to cup your cheek.

“It seems I am in quite the predicament!” He huffs, reeling back to his full height as yet another strand of lime hair gently floats to his face.

“You are?” You ask quietly, eyes open wide in anticipation. What kind of mixed signals bull is this?

“Yes. The young master is away on family business, and I am finding myself in need of a place to stay while Master Lilia repairs-“ He coughs and begins his sentence again, “I mean… remodels my room.”

Sebek can’t will himself to make eye contact with you in the slightest, the color on his pale cheeks morphing into a rose-pink blush.

“I see.” You say, playing along with whatever-the-hell-this-is. You dramatically turned your head to the side, putting on a slight theatrical accent to intensify the ren-faire mood of it all.

“Well, you are of course welcome to stay here. I could always use a guard to help me, a poor magic-less human in a big scary haunted house.”

Sebek snaps his gaze back to you and his cat-like pupils widen, shoulders visibly loosening at your agreement. It seems he was more nervous about your reaction than you thought.

“Since… since I am here…” he pauses, clearly thinking on how best to respond.

“I may as well keep you safe!” He finishes smugly, puffing out his chest. Sebek was clearly proud of how he was able to ask to stay at your dorm so gracefully. “A knight would do no less.”

You nodded and tugged him inside, slowly leading him to the couch that you so desperately wanted to touch him on.

Sebek seemed to be scanning his surroundings, but for what, you weren’t sure. Maybe the comment about ghosts really did worry him.

Finding a comfortable seat on the well-worn couch, you pat a spot across from you to beckon him to join.

Sebek takes a seat much in the way you picture a robot might. Well, if you didn’t already know a real one. A robot from the shows of your childhood, specifically.

You hoped that Sebek taking the initiative earlier would help him loosen up, but his back was as stiff as a board as he looked at everything but your face, hands folded politely in his lap and skin shining with a hint of nervous sweat.

“Sebek?” You called quietly, willing him to look at you again.

You noticed that each time he interacted responded he would slightly loosen, as evidenced by his back curving slightly when he leaned forward to peer curiously at you.

Well, you took the initiative to ask him in the first place, so…

Taking one last large breath through your nose, you crawled onto Sebeks lap. Your hands begun getting to work on his fashionably-impractical collar.

It felt like you were undressing a highly realistic statue for a moment, but his eyes gazed up at you as if awestruck, waiting to see what you would do next.

He mumbled your name softly and you couldn’t help but laugh, “Oh, so I’m not ‘human’ anymore, gorgeous?”

Face visibly darkening at your question, Sebek shook his head fervently.

“Not… not when you look like this.” He muttered, unable to will himself to blink. Missing even a second of this moment seemed unthinkable.

You finally finished undoing his complicated jacket and pushed it to the side. His skin seems to almost glimmer under the evening light.

You dropped your head to nibble right under his chin, restraining yourself from laughing when he slapped his hand over his mouth with a gasp.

“Ah… that’s very…” He was writhing slightly, his eyes sliding shut.

“Sebek?” You asked again, teasingly. You were lying if you said that you weren’t tempted to tease him for as long as the night allows.

His gaze turned up at you as he gave the most breathtaking expression of adoration, breath uneven, smile bright yet sheepish.

At this point, his hair had completely fallen on his face, the apples of his cheeks had simmered to a stunning rose, and his chest was rising and falling rapidly.

“Yes?”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Ah…” he paused, clearly having not thought that far ahead. After a beat, Sebek pressed his mouth into a firm line and looked once more at you like he was making a declaration of war.

“I’m… I’m willing to take responsibility so… even if I… if you want me, you can have me. Any of me.”

You froze in shock. His words had felt so serious that it scared you a little. It really wasn’t like him to be so quiet and thoughtful.

“Even if Malleus said no? Because you had to protect him instead?” You mused out loud.

Sebek’s gaze guiltily shot out to the side, clearly surprised. He did seem to be genuinely trying to contemplate your question though.

It was something that you had said impulsively, but you couldn’t help but be curious. What would he say? You knew that Malleus' wellbeing was his calling in life.

“If Malleus needed me to be by his side… then I guess I would need to take you with me.” He said with a cheeky grin, looking very proud of himself.

You were charmed that he had thought that far ahead, to tell the truth.

Sebek raised his hand to your cheek once more and ushered you forward, placing the other hand on your waist.

“I won’t let my love life-! Ah!” Sebek gasped and sputtered, “My, um, passions…” he corrected himself quickly but clumsily, and you pretended that you didn’t hear the word ‘love’ just now (you did though, and this was going to be burned into your brain for a while).

“...it won’t get in the way of my duty.” Sebek finished firmly, speaking a bit louder than strictly necessary. It seems that he was not yet done with that thought, though.

“While I am fae, I…” He swallowed audibly, bracing himself for what he was about to say.

“I am also just a man and… that part of me right now… wants…” He paused yet again, searching your face for something.

You weren’t even sure if he knew what he was trying to say, but you understood that whatever it was, it was a vulnerable moment for him.

It seemed that he had settled on a different approach as he began his speech again.

“You, out of anyone, knows how much I value loyalty.” He said, tapping his fingertip on your chin. You felt your ears burning at the action, dragging your eyes away from him in a pleasant embarrassment.

“If you are in danger, I will come find you. If you ask me for anything, I will give it.” Sebek’s voice was getting louder as he gained confidence.

“My leige and country will always be a priority but…” His breath was shaky.

You tried to figure out what emotion he was feeling right now, but it was unclear.

“If you’ll have me, if you would be mine tonight…”

“…I hope you are ready for a commitment, my dear human.” He murmured, eyes sliding shut as he moved to shakily kiss you once more.

You were.

“Oh? A cute young thing like you coming onto an old man like me? What will people think, hmm?”

Lilia seemed to be positively tickled by your question. If his age was any indication, you would think he would be very experienced in these interactions. As always, he was very committed to being coy.

“You don't seem to be someone that cares much for what people think, Lilia.” You shot back playfully.

His mischievous nature was a part of him that you were quite fond of. If he wanted you to play along, you were more than willing to do so.

Lilia’s shoulders shook with quiet giggles, “I want to make sure to give you a fair warning, lovely Prefect.” He shrugged and let out a dramatic sigh.

“I suppose my boyish good looks can sometimes distract from the fact I am a father of three, you know.”

Calling himself a father of three when the trio in-question looked older than he did made you want to laugh, but you knew that he meant that statement sincerely.

“I like to think I’m good with kids,” You said, raising an eyebrow. “And I’m into DILFS.”

Now Lilia’s chuckles had turned into full on shaking laughter, tears of joy brimming in the corner of his eyes.

“I’ll never stop being impressed by the new slang of the times. You are aware that I do know what that stands for, yes? Are you broadcasting your true intentions, my little Prefect?” Lilia seemed to know that while you had already spilled your overall wants to him, this was probably a bit more forward than you had intended at the moment.

“And if it is?” You replied stiffly. Why does he keep answering questions with questions? It was infuriating.

“Hmm…” Lilia tapped his chin with his finger in thought, “I’m a little too old for one-offs at my age.” He trailed off.

“So, if you are serious… I will oblige.”

His smile split his face and his fangs peeked enticingly over his lips. You audibly gulped, suddenly being hit with the embarrassment and nervousness that you had been desperately trying to choke down.

You were positive that you wanted him. You had thought of every single perk and drawback and decided that no matter what they were, you were absolutely smitten with the mysterious and playful man.

Now, faced with that romantic reality being a possibility, you felt like fainting. Your dreamy fantasies always cut themselves off after you confessed, as it all felt too absurd to keep dwelling on them.

Those doubts sure didn’t stop you from shooting your shot, though.

Lilia moved closer to you slowly, carefully, in a way that felt almost too graceful to be natural. Somehow he seemed to be just the barest bit taller than he had been just a moment ago. You pushed that odd thought away from the forefront of your mind. Maybe it was just your imagination.

Sparing a moment to briefly glance at Lilia’s feet to check that he wasn’t floating again, you found yourself about to scream when your eyes had flicked back up and Lilia was directly in front of you. Behaving like a horror movie jump scare was a hobby of Lilia’s that you didn’t know if you could ever quite get used to. Your flinch made Lilia look as amused as ever. You thought that pranking you would get old, but apparently not.

It’s rude to play with your food, you thought. Wait… why did that of all phrases come to mind?

Gingerly reaching your shaking hand forward, you combed the ends of your fingers into Lilia’s unnaturally-colored bob. Eyes sliding closed, the boy looked like a pleased cat before it got too overstimulated and bit you on the hand.

Your movements briefly froze at the thought of how soft his hair felt, and yet how his cold skin contrasted with the sensation.

He looked the most inhuman you had ever seen him. Lilia’s bright pupils were constricted into thin slits and his skin almost seemed to be glowing in the evening light.

It felt dangerous, it felt thrilling. It felt both like you should both be afraid and that you had been waiting your whole life for this moment.

It was like you would be safe from any danger, but not because of anything that you controlled. You were safe only due to the fact that the greatest danger of all was almost purring into your hand in affection.

Lilia seemed to be waiting for you as he held his serene smile and continued his ever-so-slight nuzzling into your touch. You supposed his patience was because time meant something a little different to him than it did to you.

Steeling yourself, you placed a soft peck on his lips, chastely pulling away to see his reaction. Lilia’s hand stopped you from getting too far, and you were pulled back to his cool and smooth mouth.

Keeping your whimpers at bay as your lower lip caught on his fangs with a soft scrape. There was a spicy-sweet sting on your tender skin, it was the first bit of heat that his body had allowed.

“I need a little more than that, love.” He murmured against your lips, pushing and pulling you back and forth like the ocean playing with the sand before a large wave came up to swallow a few feet more of the coast.

He was a good kisser, you thought. Any other ideas swiftly melted away when met with Lilia’s experienced ministrations.

Slowly, carefully, you both separated from each other. Lilia looked incredibly pleased, trailing his hands down your back to pull you ever closer.

You shivered, both from the coolness of his body and from the warmth spreading through your own.

“Is this really what you want?” Lilia asked, his eyes meeting yours with a meaningful gaze.

As hazy with lust as your mind was, something was bugging you again. Did he look just a bit taller? Was his hair just slightly longer?

It felt like something was changing, but that passing thought made you feel a bit crazy.

Were you imagining things because you knew that magic and fae were real? It wasn’t impossible.

After that long trail of distraction, you finally reply.

“It is.” You said, leaning closer to him in the hopes of feeling his skin on yours again.

Lilia’s eyes flickered with a new emotion, and he nodded firmly as he stared into your eyes.

“I hope you know what agreements like that mean to a fae.” He whispered, pushing you inside of your humble abode.

You were going to learn a lot about this topic tonight, Lilia would make sure of it.

Silver’s auroreal eyes were wide, he looked like you had hit him up the side of his head with one of his training swords.

“Make out? With me? On your couch?”

He was perhaps more awake than he had felt in years, his ears aflame and his usual serious demeanor slipping into something much more socially awkward and bewildered.

“Yes.” There was no backing out now. You had been desperately dropping hints to Silver that you were interested in him for months, and this was your final hope that he was just being oblivious this whole time.

You had attended his knight training when he invited you (which gave you a great view of how toned his lean arms were) you asked him to let you ride along on his broom during PE (since he was soooo good as horseback riding and all) and you had spent a ton of time learning how to make sweets and treats to try and earn his favor (you figured that he had enough of Lilia’s ‘healthy’ recipies).

You made physical contact whenever you could, taking great joy in the first time that the beautiful boy had fallen asleep on your shoulder. You had to hold back the giggles that wanted to spill out of you when you spotted the squirrels and deer that tentatively walked closer to watch Silver sleeping soundly. It was so sweet, you would never get tired of seeing how much animals loved him.

Even Grim was especially attached to Silver, toddling after him whenever you three spent time together. Whenever you asked Grim why he was so obsessed with Silver, he would either fervently deny it, or say something along the lines of ‘observing him’ and then insult you. It was cute regardless.

As much as your little not-tanuki bestie talked smack, he really did have some things in common with all the cute deer that shyly watched you two sitting on an outdoor bench. Silver's body sleepily swaying in the breeze just like the willows in the distance.

All of those quiet moments were what did it for you.

One time you both sat in the library and Silver was barely keeping his head up while he added his own notes to your sloppily-kept handwritten potion instructions. You couldn’t help but be charmed by how hard he was working to stay awake to help you.

Once he was done adding his notes and corrections, Silver had softly patted you on the shoulder to tell you that he was done. He was sleepily smiling down at you, and while he was always a bit quiet, you could hear his next murmur crystal clear.

“…proud of you.”

You were fucked. How could you not love him?

In this moment, unlike the heavy and unfocused smiles he had awarded you in the library, Silver’s eyes were sharply narrowed and quizzical.

He seemed to be analyzing you. It was the same look you saw on his face when you had a shared history class and he was concentrating on an particularly in-depth essay.

Even scarier than that, it was the look he made right before he won a practice duel.

It made you slightly uneasy, to tell the truth.

“You like me?” He asked finally.

“Silver... I don’t know how I could make it more obvious than I have.” You said with clear exasperation and tiredness. “I ask you out every week, I spend all the time I can spare with you, and I told you I loved you last Thursday.” You snapped.

You weren’t angry, you could never be angry at him, but you were exhausted.

“Ah…” Silver’s face was slowly heating up. You felt like your jaw could hit the floor. He really hadn’t noticed, apparently.

“...I thought you meant like… f-friends or family…” He muttered, seeming to be mid-crisis at how oblivious he had been. You sighed.

“Look. To be completely straightforward: I like you. It’s probably more than that at this point.” You inhaled shakily, “It’s okay if you need time but…”

You bit your lip, idly wondering just how much pressure you could put on your skin before it bled.

Maybe this would be easier if he rejected you at this point. Maybe you could get him out of your head and stop convincing yourself that this was a possibility. Maybe you could talk yourself out of loving him.

“You don’t have to answer now. You can take your time, I just…” you trailed off in dejection, “I just wanted to make sure you knew”.

You began opening the front door to go inside. You didn’t want to run away, but you also weren’t sure how long you could have this conversation without crying.

If he didn’t like you ,that was one thing. But you don’t know if you’d ever been more frustrated in your life. What else were you supposed to do?

You felt something warm circling your wrist.

Silver held your forearm calmly, staring at you in silence. His gaze was intense, a look you had never quite seen before written across his face.

“Don’t go.” He said firmly, slightly squeezing his hand to emphasize the point. You couldn’t look away from that small touch that connected you both.

“Okay.”

You stopped turning away and just waited, looking at him. Taking in his halo of soft hair, the way his jaw tightened. You wanted to reach forward and gently trace every fleck of the evening light that graced his elegant face. You would wait forever for him if he needed it.

“Please let me… please let me take you up on that offer.”

You felt like you could both throw up and win a Spelldrive Tournament by yourself at the same time.

“…really?”

And that concludes part 1 of The Couch Series! Did it live up to your expectations? Are there other sorts of series you would like to see with everyone? Just the first years, just the Housewardens, the staff?

Let me know! Thank you all for your support and look forward to more to come (including continuations of these, as well).

Thank you reader, love you!

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nunalastor · 2 months

Note

Timeloop au cont: He slowly turns around, or rather his neck does, body forgetting to follow. The small hallway is empty, reserved for staff only, a handy shortcut between the dining room and the kitchens. Some part of Alastor that doesn't urge him to scream and tear the man apart absently notes that the king doesn't look out of place in a place reserved for servants. Without his coat and hat he could almost pass for a waitor- Alastor can't recall if Lucifer was always this dressed down in previous loops. He feels sick from realisation. What else has he forgotten from the first day? How many other slips Lucifer made and he missed? At least this one thing he recals well enough: the segment just mentioned was the idea that occured to Alastor on that very first morning before it acquired its title of being "the first." He didn't tell anyone before announcing it at breakfast. The King of Hell, powerful as he is, couldn't know of it.

Unless he heard it before while watching Alastor slowly descend into madness with sadistic glee befit of the devil.

"What of it?" Radio Demon's voice is scratchy like a worn record. The needle carved all music from it.

That haughty pale face usually painted with disdain now was screwed in concern and...confusion? "weren't you...I thought you were going to..." his stutter would be delicious if Alastor's sanity wasn't hanging on a thread. His head feels like it splits open. It probably does, finally caving under the weight ofvhis antlers. He doesn't hear the note of obvious distress and bafflement in Lucifer's voice. He doesn't see that sincere confused expression. If he sees it, if the man in front of him is not the one who pulled him through time and space then-

"Alastor." His name, tinged with first flames of anger. A demand for an answer. "What's going on?" A demand from someone...as lost as he is.

There is a high pitched sound, that Alastor realises has been building in his skull all this time. Then, silence.

He opens his eyes and for once doesn't see the ceiling of his room. There is no music playing, just the sounds of someone running around, a scrubbing of a brush against the floor at nearly the speed of sound. The clinking of glasses someone puts away. Something he subconsciously began to associate with safety. He shifts, and then there is a concerned face hovering above him, eyes big and tearful. Charlie looks at him like he's dying.

Apparently he had fainted, and his majesty brought him to the main lounge room. For everyone to gawk at, apparently. Alastor almost feels the relief at the thought that the next day the crew shall forget all about this. Almost. After all, there is apparently someone who shall remember. And he must speak to that someone, as soon as (his head stops spinning) Charlie stops her fussing around him.

👀👀👀👀👀

#hazbin hotel #nunalastor asks #radioapple #appleradio #radio apple #apple radio #lucifer #alastor #time loop headcanons

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julesthequirky · 2 months

Text

The Choice: Chapter Ten

All my work is purely aimed at those 18+ so minors kindly, DNI.

Summary: You find three of your favourite characters in your home. It shouldn’t be possible, but there they are. In the flesh. How the hell did they get there? And surely there’s a way to get them back? But as you get close to each one, the thought of sending them back proves difficult to comprehend.

Characters/Pairings: Fem!Reader, Dean, Beau and Ben (Soldier Boy)

Warnings: Language, angst, typical Soldier Boy behaviour, bit of spice, dirty talk.

W/C: 1,610

You weren’t sure how long you’d been sitting there, but your butt had gone numb. You surveyed the ruins. Dean’s clothes were over the room after being all flung over the place. Slowly, you stood up, wiped your face, and walked to the chest of drawers.

Ben had left a drawer open. You stared down at the emptiness. It matched how you felt. It didn’t feel real. Ben had swarmed in like a tornado, tearing down your defences and shredding what you cared for dearly. He was a destructive force.

Why he did, you didn’t know. You couldn’t begin to fathom understanding Ben’s mind. He did what he wanted and he didn’t care who was in his way. Unfortunately, you had been his sole target.

You wanted to get angry. Wanted to scream and yell, unleash it all at him, but he didn’t deserve your energy. It would be a waste. He wouldn’t care.

You pushed the drawer back in. Now, there were three big empty drawers instead of two. You turned and placed the other drawers back in one by one.

You picked Dean’s clothes up and tried as best as possible to fold them with military precision as he had. Unfortunately, your skills didn’t match his. You hoped that he wouldn’t be mad and would understand.

The room was back to normal. Like nothing had happened. But it didn’t feel that way.

You turned away from the chest of drawers and walked to the door. You tried turning the knob. It moved freely. Opening it, you were greeted with an empty upstairs landing. You could hear the TV downstairs. It was a sports game. Probably football.

You stepped out and closed the door behind you. Dean was free to sleep in his room, and you…well, you would just have to sleep on the couch.

Taking a deep breath, you descended the stairs. In your peripheral, two heads turned. Dean and Beau. You couldn’t help but wonder where Ben was. That annoyed you, causing you to scowl momentarily.

You stepped into your living room and took an empty seat. Dean and Beau were silent, pretending to watch the game.

“Ben’s in the kitchen.” Dean said.

You shrugged. “Don’t really want to see him, anyway.”

Someone sighed, and Beau’s soft voice filtered through to your ears over the game. His words felt like a kick to the gut.

“Y/N, as disreputable as his actions were, I believe that he was looking out for you in his own way.”

How could he stick up for the Supe?

“He hurt me.”

“An’ there’s no denyin’ that,” Beau sat, fingers steepled, elbows on his knees, a look of concern over his face. “but he did what he thought was right.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing.

“I didn’t see you rushing to help.”

A beat of silence passed. Dean shifted, uncomfortable, and Beau held his head down.

“We wanted to,” Dean replied. “but you know as well as I do that Ben would have bit our heads off if we tried.”

You shot him a look.

“You both just let him destroy precious sentimental items. Are you saying you’d have held me back and let him do it, too?”

More silence.

“We never thought you’d react the way you did. We were wrong about that.”

Your gut churned, and your jaw tensed. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing.

“I can’t wait ‘til that bloody box is figured out. I didn’t think you guys would be such vipers.”

“Oh, come on!” Beau exclaimed as you stood to leave.

“No, you don’t get it,” You turned to him. “I expected more. I thought you would come in my time of need, but you abandoned me. You hurt me. But what hurts more, is that you agree with Ben.”

You didn’t wait for them to reply as you left the room. You heard Dean mutter “son of a bitch” as you leaned against the hallway wall.

You hadn’t felt this alone since your ex had asked for a divorce. They would never understand. They didn’t have a biological clock ticking away, reminding you year after year that your time is running out.

From the kitchen, a chair creaked, and you were reminded of the Supe in there. He was the last person you wanted to see. You turned your head from the kitchen and again made your way upstairs. This time, you retreated to your bedroom.

You stood at the window. Your door clicked as it closed. You turned around to see Ben standing in his dirty undershirt and grey sweatpants.

He brought up emotions, good and bad. Mostly bad.

“Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

He smirked. “And here I thought you loved me.”

You scowled, confused by his remark.

“Are you insane?”

“You must have liked me somewhat to stick my picture in your freaky frame.”

He left you speechless.

“I never once thought that the damn thing would bring you here!”

He just shrugged. “Still.”

Ben stepped forward. Even without his Supe suit, he was intimidating.

“You won’t be able to get them back. I shredded them.”

Emotional pain stabbed your heart, and you honestly didn’t know what to say. Your hands curled into fists, and he smirked, making an amused sound. He found this funny.

“Do you want to hit me, Y/N?”

You shook your head, releasing the tension in your fists, uncurling them.

“Liar.”

What was he doing? Why was he so calm? It was honestly unnerving. And yeah, you did want to hit him, but what would that accomplish. Nothing. It might feel good for a few moments, but that would fade, and you knew you’d feel shit for doing it.

What was his problem? Did he purposefully like to provoke you or something?

“What would it achieve? Nothing. A few seconds of gratification. For bruised knuckles and a sore heart.”

“Do you say the same when you’ve come? Achieves nothing but wet fingers and a fast pulse.”

You stood there, shocked and floundering.

“Th-that’s different.”

“Is it? It achieves the same sense of gratification.”

“I’m not a fighter.”

Ben snorted.

“I know. You don’t fight for anything, do you?”

You flinched. Why did he like hurting you? Had it become his new hobby?

“Why are you being so horrible?”

“I want you to hit me.”

“Why?”

“Because you’ll feel better about everything I did.”

You shook your head. You wouldn’t. You knew that.

He stepped closer.

“Hit me, go on.”

Again, you shook your head.

“Hit me!”

His shout was sudden, causing you to jolt. Your pulse quickened as he glared, waiting expectantly.

“No.”

You were vehement on this. You wouldn’t hit him. It would accomplish nothing.

“Fucking hit me!”

Ben invaded your space, backing you up against the wall. His body buffeted against yours, face getting into yours.

Adrenaline pumped through your veins, activating your flight or fight response—except you froze. You did nothing. You stared at him, shaking your head.

“For fucks sake.” He growled.

His hand shot out and gripped the back of your head. His face swooped down, and your brain short-circuited when his lips pressed to yours. You were too stunned to do anything.

Fire swamped down your gut when Ben parted your lips. His tongue forced entry into your mouth, and one stroke against yours had electricity bolting down your spine.

Fuck.

Oh, fuck.

It didn’t make a lick of sense. Ben had tormented you. Wreaked havoc, and now you were necking like a couple of teenagers, all hot and frenzied.

Your hands gripped his undershirt, body pressed against him, fighting to close what little space was between you.

He dominated your mouth, drinking you in, and you couldn’t deny it was intoxicating. You needed more. He had your pulse spiking, heart thudding like a kickdrum, tongues and teeth clashing as you fought his domination.

His hand cupped your ass, sending tingles to spread across and settle deep in your core. He lifted you, pushing you to meet his tented sweatpants. Heat and moisture pooled between your legs, gut tightening, and your pussy clenched at emptiness. Fuck, he was rock hard. And from the impression in his sweats, he was big.

You moaned into his mouth, grinding against him.

Oh shit.

That felt good.

Ben growled, removed his hand from the back of your head and wrapped it around your neck. He swung you around and dropped you on the bed like a sack of potatoes.

You gasped for breath, propping yourself on your elbows, and looked at him, chest heaving.

“You were supposed to fucking push me away and slap me, not moan and rub your hot little pussy over me.”

Fuck.

He looked wild. Had you done that to him?

“I’m sorry.” Was all you had to say.

“You’re sorry? I almost blew my fucking pants, and you’re sorry? No, girly, you don’t get to be sorry.”

Ben’s tented sweatpants distracted you. It was all you could look at.

He breathed hard, stepping closer like a predator to its prey. You gulped. The bed dipped as he knelt, moving over you, darkened eyes never once leaving you.

“Turn around.”

Huh?

He didn’t wait for you. His hands flipped you, so you were on your stomach. He caged you, one hand gripping your waist, keeping you in place, the other held your jaw, fingers stroking across your bottom lip.

His breath was raw. Guttural. And it tickled across the shell of your ear.

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard, sweetcheeks, and I ain’t gunna stop. Not until your pussy pops.”

It wasn’t a warning. It was a promise.

Tags: @yvonneeeee, @curlycarley, @angelbabyyy99, @sassy-pelican, @k-slla, @deans-spinster-witch, @ashdoctor, @eretsupremacy89, @fanfic-n-tabulous, @deans-number-one-fan, @afro-hispwriter, @tiredstrangerr, @zemosdarling228, @justjensenandhisalteregos, @ladysparkles78, @nescavaneck, @winharry, @stellasfictionalworld, @mishkatelwarriorgoddess, @freefallthoughts

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