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simonrillleyyysss · 4 months

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my brain is craving something insanely soft like simon taking your virginity on your wedding night

the thoughts are loud 😭

oh mymfod this is so sweet

cw; not proofread,afab

‘easy now—i’ll go gentle , baby.’

the large man hovering above you cooed down, rough palms that once broke limbs of men, cocked guns and took lives were now gently tugging down the lace of your panties, the rough palms that held yours at the altar, the ones that patted your back when you first met, thick fingers gently wrapped around the waistband of fabric hugging your hips.

your trembling fingers were brushing over the marks tainting the man’s face, nose crooked from breaks and bashes, cheeks scarred and brows fixed into a semi-permanent furrow, cheeks freckled and glossy brown eyes staring into your own, his full lips parted in adoration.

‘simon.. you’re so pretty.

prettiest i’ve seen..’

a whisper fell from your mouth, his eyes narrowing as he leaned in to muffle your words with his lips, moving to cup your jaw with a freehand, the other continuing to tug your panties down your legs, tongue moving against his own—so tender yet so powerful, passion underlying the soft mouthed kiss.

‘best thing that’s ever happened to me.’

a soft sound of lips moving against eachother.

‘my gorgeous bloody’ wifey, lettin’ me fuck her..’

scoffing, your lips separated as he leant down to pepper kisses along your bare torso, watching your lacey panties fall to the side of the bed beneath you two, his thick fingers gently dropping to run along your slick folds, a soft gasp leaving your chest—head falling to the side.

‘gonna stretch you out first, yeah? might hurt a lil bit..’

‘mhhmm..’

easing his way into your cunt, the singular finger caused you to shut your eyes, face scrunching in slight shock and pleasure, back arching off of the velvet bedsheets, attempting to instinctively shut your thighs.

‘that’s it, you like that?’

‘s’tingly.. feels weird..’

chuckling, he ducked down between your thighs—slowly pumping his finger in and out of your cunny with calculated movements, wrist curling upwards; tongue slowly circling your clitoris, humming into your flesh.

‘oh—oh my gosh.. simon—hunmggnn..’

‘y’want more, baby?’

‘please.’

it didn’t take much persuasion for him to slide a second finger in, lips parting—only to enclose around your trembling button, lapping at the bud of nerves, tongue swirling and spit dribbling down the folds of your pussy, thick digits scissoring the walls of your pussy, letting out a soft moan and gasp.

before you knew it, your tummy was tightening, and your thighs were trembling—fingers digging into the back of his head as you slowly rode out your orgasm, withering in his grasp as you cried out in pleasure.

‘ohh—simon—holyshit!’

‘thaattsss it.. whatta’ good girl, so good for me.’

‘simon..please.’

‘what is it?’

simon crooned, lifting himself from between your thighs, growing bulge pressing against the side of your leg, leaning down to pepper kisses along your neck, gruffly laughing at your fidgety reaction, attempting to roll away from the individual towering atop you.

‘gotta speak up, baby.. m’your husband now, gotta communicate.

want my cock?’

you nodded meekly, chewing at the plush of your lip, watching the behemoth above you move to discard of his robe and boxers, cock springing free from its restraints and standing upright against his abdomen, watching your eyes widen and chest rise and fall with quick breaths.

‘simon—s’not gonna fit.. i’m scared—‘

‘it’s okay love, if you want me to stop i’ll stop; i’ll go gentle, yeah? that sound good?’

‘pinkie promise?’

holding out your pinkie, he laughed lowly before curling your pinkie around his and nodding, pressing a soft kiss to your lips— almost breaking your nose in the process from enthusiasm, crook of his large nose hitting against yours softly.

‘ow—fuck.’

‘careful!’

giggling, you nuzzled the tip of your noses together affectionately, watching him wrap his hands around your waist, rubbing the pink-tip of his leaking cock along the lips of your cunt, letting out a soft hiss; watching you inhale quickly.

‘m’gonna put it in, yeah? might hurt for a bit.’

‘slow—please, you promised me.’

‘don’t worry, yr’ my bird—wouldn’t hurt you for anything.’

it felt like you were just tore in half as he slowly sinked the first bit of his cock inside, watching you cry out in pain for a moment, back arching and arms digging into the mattress, the man stilling his hips—gently kissing your jaw and cheekbone encouragingly.

‘simon—ow, jesus..’

‘i know, be there soon..’

huffing out a heavy breath, he quickly sank the rest of himself into you— watching you cry beneath him and reach up to scratch at his arm, tears threatening to prick at your eyes, whispering.

‘simon, simon—oh, fuck..’

‘s’okay, i’ll sit for a minute.. tell me when you’re ready.’

nodding, you laid beneath him like a ragdoll, sniffling and exhaling lowly, after a few minutes—you nodded and felt him slowly pull himself out, then sink back in, feeling the man push himself to a rhythmic pace, soft hums and moans leaving your lips now.

‘colour?’

‘mhggg…green.’

with that, the man’s hips sped up—his thumb circling your clit with gentle swirls, growling into your throat as his cock pounded into your tight cunt, balls slapping against the curve of your arse, pubic hair brushing against your swollen clit— groaning matching up with your soft begs and moans.

‘oh—jesus christ, doll..squeezing ’ me like a choker.’

‘simonnn…hmmggnhh; ohmigosh..’

eventually gets you to squirt all over his tummy, wanks off on your stomach and licks his cum up after, gives you the best chocolate and cleans you in the bath :3

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fawnpires · 1 year

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TORN ON YOUR HEART — KÖNIG.

(in short: a concept about your husband, könig, wanting to ruin his pretty wife - and her pretty makeup.)

꒰ ୨୧ ꒱ contents: poorly google-translated german, husband!könig, slight dumbification, size kink & difference, body worship, soft dom!könig, manhandling, face-sitting, possessive sex, overstimulation, dirty talk, stomach bulge.

"Let me ruin that makeup off your face, mein kleines reh." his accented voice muffles from underneath you.

With his large anatomy in contrast to your much small-scaled body, it was without a doubt that the flat palms of his hands secured at the flesh of your thighs could keep you right where he wanted you to be. The veil of your husband's hood had been pushed up to a right enough amount to where his hooked nose had been exposed as well as his mouth where there was a visible scar starting at the right side of his lips that curved upwards to his cheek and possibly even up into his eyes — which were still shrouded behind the covering veil of his face, only two eyeholes teared in them to reveal the hazy blue irises that peek up at you when you were currently situated at his exhibited mouth.

"Köni! Mmph, baby... it's too much." Your voice comes out but nothing but a sole tone of a quivering tone, bare thighs sheen with sweat at this point while your chest rises and falls with each heaving breath. A mind fogged of entirely him and the pleasure he brings upon you, it causes you to have lose track of time; meaning that your trembling figure has rested on König's face for quite some time, but an obscured head of ecstasy forbids any kind of coherent thought to cross your head about anything outside of this dome of rapture. "I can't do a lot more, m'sensitive..."

"Awe. Come on, liebchen, don't be like that." König said, giving a small pause in between his words to lap more at your soaking cunt which he positions himself underneath; the warm muscle of his tongue causing your eyes to willingly roll back in your head while your thighs squeezed at his masked head with a bit more pressure, a faint squeal leaving your mouth from the mere pleasure of it all. "Just hold back a little longer, then you'll get your big reward, okay? Can my pretty girl do that for me?"

Voluntarily, you nod your head all of desperation to his words — nothing but absolute commitment to make the larger man underneath so proud of you in the moment. At your non-verbal response, a faint phrase of "süßes mädchen" came muffled below you as the motions of his tongue became more rapid without breaks. One of his hands had combined with the movements of his mouth, a circling thumb pressing on the nub of your clit which only sent your mind into a more in-depth condition of personal ecstasy. Your head was now fully thrown back, vulgar sounds of moans and whines falling from an agape mouth while a heated sensation began to birth at your lower abdomen. One of your hands plants itself right next to the bedsheets nearest to where your head laid while the other had a flat palm to his hooded head, your fingers twitching as I had started to lose myself more.

"König, fuck!" You whined out in a more high-pitched tone than intended, pools of sweat sticking to the soft material of your laced bra — chest puffed out which only pronounced on how heavily you were breathing, giving König the view of a lifetime; your breasts cradled above in the feminine-designed cloth of your bra, white and lining with a lace trim around the edges. The more his tongue sloppily lapped at your drooling cunt, the more that familiar sensation grew in intensity at your lower abdomen; the one that felt all tingly, like sparks were threatening to explode right there and now.

His eyes linger onto the soft plush of your breasts before peeking through your thighs up at your face before speaking: "Ah. That's it, kleines Reh, lose yourself to me." the man mumbles into your soft skin, palming at the flesh with his larger hands as the ministrations of his tongue could only speed up without break. The sensation at your lower abdomen approaches towards an end the more his tongue slid up the puffy lips of your cunt, bumping up right against the nub of your swollen clit along with the tip of his nose. Small whispers and mumbles of praises, which were barely audible, came from König as some sort of accommodation to the reach the final stage of an orgasm — he knew you were sensitive, and he knew damn well that the useful combination of both his voice and larger touch could make you easily fall compliant to him; your brain easily so stupefied into a state of only existing bliss.

By now, the tears that brimmed at the slightest corners of your eyes were ruining over the mascara that tinted your lashes — faint black streaks rolling down the sides of your face, the whites of your eyes mostly visible as they rolled back into the inner barriers of your head. Your hips had started to grind down onto his mouth while your trembling body had begun to get more responsive to him. "M'god... I'm gonna cum..." you whined out softly into the air, voice slightly hoarse from all the noises that creeped up your throat.

"Oh, you're gonna cum?" König asks, feigning a mocked innocence with a now more huskier voice and a growl to it. "Then go ahead, nobody is going to stop you, schatz." he adds on with a slight hiss, his hands moving from being wrapped to your thighs up towards your hips, then the soft skin of your stomach, then to your bra-confined breasts. He pulls off the delicate fabric and tosses it over to the floor, leaving you now completely bare above him.

Given his confirmation you don't hesitate to oblige with them — your body trembling a little more violently as you succumb into the tingling sensation that had expanded inside of your lower abdomen, pouring out without delay as you felt your orgasm finally burst into reality. Both of your hands moved to grip the bedsheets established at his head, holding them between your fingers in a near death grip while you rode out your climax. After a duration of a few more lasting seconds, you come down from your high; body coated in a light sheen of sweat, mouth widened to catch your breaths, and your grip loosening up at the sheets. Your head tilts in a downwards angle to get a better look at your mountain of a husband, steadily moving yourself down to sit on his bare and sturdy chest to gain a better perspective of his face.

König hadn't even given you a chance to catch even the slightest view of the aftermath of himself before his hands were back to your hips against, forcing you off his frame. He moved to lean up against the headboard, still holding you hostage in his more stronger grasp at your waist until he settles you in his lap. In his head, he almost thought of you as a fragile doll while you found placement on him; so much smaller in size, so easy to move around without a struggle with his more substantial clutch. His then leans into you and presses his mouth up against yours in a swift movement leaving you no time to think, breaching your mouth with his tongue that still had the aftermath of your orgasm residing there. Fingers trailed up the inner section of your legs before tickling at your thighs, slowly moving upwards to your sensitive cunt. His index and middle finger drag a slow line up your puffy lips, causing you to moan softly into his mouth while your tongue shyly wraps to his.

Those two fingers of his decide to no longer exist on the outer region of your cunt, plunging inside instead in a stretching method. A gasp is earned into his mouth as your body falls frail against his chest, back slightly arching at the sudden pressure inside of your aching cunt. You felt his fingertips drag at your inner walls the more they pumped in and out of you; it had first started off slow and careful, but they increasingly grew a little more violently with desperation. Your makeout session with König had gotten more heated and explicit, his tongue crowding your mouth and tasting every crevice that he could possibly reach to. His free hand held you steady on his lap easily as he took note of your hips bucking at the movements of his fingers pumping with more brutality. He can't help but chuckle to himself at your needy condition as he found it quite adorable, the sound resonating within his chest.

As he withdrew his head back from you, a thick line of saliva bonded at his tongue and had been shared into your mouth in a sloppy manner. He continues to move his fingers in and out of you without stop, your body squirming as your head was angled to look at him — but never breaking off eye contact with him. König grips that one side of your waist a little tighter, fingers speeding up to an intense rate while your inner thighs were now soaking of your leaking pre-arousal.

"A-Ah... König. Please, I want you." You whined out underneath your breath, the constant stretch of his fingers opening up your cunt was a bit painful but it didn't take long for them to subside into a stinging pleasure.

"You want me, do you?" He asks in response to your whining request, but never allowing his fingers to falter from their built rhythm.

You took a few seconds to pant out before replying. "I do, please... want you to fuck me."

Your words were like a shot of adrenaline to him, a sudden primal urge listing at his necessities. His exposed, scarred lips give you a smirk — one without teeth, but showing a smug kind-of expression to them even if you couldn't fully view his full face. He slowly extracts his fingers from your cunt before moving to the only article of clothing that was on his body at the moment, his pants. Underneath where you sat on his lap, his hand found the buckle of his belt and undid it from the hoops of his tactical pants. There was a distinct noise of a zipper coming undone as well as the rustling of pants to get off. Without even looking down, you felt it; there was no separation of fabric between the two of you anymore, just bare skin. Bare and sweaty skin against each other.

His erected cock rested against your inner thighs, only fueling the amount of eagerness you had that had lead up into this situation. Hands were placed at both sides of your waist while he guided you a little up above his lap to turn around and lean up at his chest, hovering over his cock. He lowered you just the right amount so your cunt could rub up against the head of it — smearing his precum around your swollen lips and clit, more wetness starting to pool down your thighs. König elicited a deep sigh and you bit your lip, full-on whimpers escaping past the bitten flesh.

"Want it so bad, oh, please..." The words slipped out into the usual whine of your tone, nails digging into the skin of your palms at the sense of his precum soaking your cunt. "Need t'feel you inside of me..."

"I know, mein Reh, and I will." he responds through a quick breath, carrying on with moving your hips so that your cunt was rubbing up against the head of his cock. "Don't worry that head of yours, my pretty little wife will get what she wants."

Those were his last words before sheathing himself entirely into your smaller anatomy, the more extreme stretch of his cock compared to his fingers had made you squeal out at the first thrust. You squealed as you felt him fill you up, make you full; allowing your cunt to swallow him up until he was right at the base. He was warm when sheltered in your inner walls, but you had felt you were being impaled in a good way. He kept a firm grip on your hips as he fucked up into you, starting off with slow yet powerful thrusts that made a loud squelching noise — but it wasn't long for him for his carnal wants to take over, slow thrusts becoming animalistic and eager. You supported yourself laying at his chest while your head slightly sloped back to rest at his shoulder, moans leaving your mouth at his vicious onslaught on you.

His fingers imprinted tightly into the skin of your waist as grunts began to emerge from behind his veil, his hips moving quickly against your soaking cunt. He rested his forehead against your shoulder as curses in his native language were muttered under his breath, muscles already layered with a sheet of sweat while pounding into you. His cock brushed up against your cervix with each of his pushes, inner walls pulsing as you savored the moment. Skin slapping against skin and personal sounds of ecstasy had started to reverberate against the room's walls, a divided choir of unadulterated material. His movements got more aggressive, more quicker as the both of you were left with no room to speak anymore; only grunting and moaning, incoherent words along with wet skin smacking so delightfully in a connected way.

You felt his hands transport from your waist to cup your breasts, still keeping you in a solid hold if you had wanted his fucking to continue. Large palms kneaded at your flesh while his head at your shoulder was turned towards the side of your neck, pressing small kisses there while he proceeded with splitting you open on his cock.

"This pretty body is alles meins, you hear me?" he manages to get out between grunts and heavy breaths. "Nobody else, just me... it will always be me." It's not like his words were some heavy lie to use you for your body, but they were genuine and came from his heart; the beauty of your anatomy was truly a treasure to him, and god consider him the luckiest man alive to have a woman possessing such angelic features as his wife.

"Mmhm, yes, all yours." you said through a foggy head full of rapture, head cocked to the side to give König better access to your neck.

His lips formed into a smirk at your words before he grabbed at your hips again, kissing and sucking marks of love into your neck while he pounded into your cunt; feeling himself on the brink of a climax as his grunts grew heavier, more pronounced with your cunt clenching around him like a vice. Your moans grew in volume as you felt a familiar heat start to ride at your lower abdomen, back arching into a curve off his chest as you slightly leaned your upper half forward — basking in the severe intensity of this moment. A more saturated wetness starts to drool down your inner thighs and onto his lap, the skin of his thighs glowing in your abnormally dripping arousal.

König moves one of his hands to the sweep of your stomach, taking notice of the obvious bulge that swells through the soft, sweaty flesh. His fingers inch their way on top of that protruding bump which appears more prominent each time the head of his cock pushed up against the barrier of your cervix, pushing against the area. Your eyes widened at the almost overbearing feeling, more arousal dripping down your thighs.

“-Eep! K-König! Hngh, please.” you said in a whining voice as you could only writhe against his touch, eyes glazing of tears that sourced from an overwhelming arousal, a second climax forming at your lower abdomen and threatening to spill over any second now.

“Mein gott, you’re so tight.” he growls, thrusts becoming less steady but more hostile; fingers pressing down harder on himself that showcases through the skin of your stomach. “Mmm - Scheiße, doing so good, almost there.”

It was a fact you weren’t going to last once he spoke those very words to you — his husky voice, his nonstop thrusts assaulting at your cervix, and his mouth presses wet saliva-soaked kisses to your neck; you couldn’t help but spiral into your second orgasm of the night, squirming at his lap and allowing everything to pour out. It was wet, everything was wet — his lap and bare muscular chest, your legs, the sheets of the bed. Your naked back was pressed to his chest as you immediately felt weakened by the experience. Soon enough, his own release followed your own and you felt every inch of him in your guts.

Your stomach was warmed and full, both of your skin sticky and blanketed with sweat. While he rested at the headboard, your head was idle on his shoulder — taking in his natural scent while you could only gaze absentmindedly at the sharp features of his face. He adjusted his head to stare back into your eyes, his left arm slowly coming to pat and wipe at your messy face with his thumb; streaks of mascara staining that thumb in an almost clay-like material, the sight causing him to chuckle lowly.

“Oh, süßes Reh. Who knew you could be even more gorgeous with a ruined face?” he whispers in a hoarse voice, giving you a small smirk which pressed to one side of his lips - leaning in shortly to press a small, gentle kiss to your cheek.

#.୨୧ fleur's writing.#könig x reader #könig x fem reader #könig x you #könig smut #konig x reader #könig cod #könig call of duty #könig modern warfare #call of duty mw2 #cod mw2 fanfic #drabble #female reader

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bunicate · 11 days

Text

he’s worried that he won’t fit. a monolith of a man, inches stacked upon inches, with a body molded to be a weapon of war.

he’s too rigid, too sharp, too big, and scary to be told to sit still like a mindless toy, but he does so anyway.

könig listens to whatever you tell him to because he likes to hear that little excited mewl you sing when his thumb nudges that pudgy spot.

he’s overdressed, to say the least. his tactical gear is haphazardly strewn on his body. he was going to completely disrobe, but you insisted he keep it on whilst you climbed over him completely naked.

nothing but a soft little thing, bottom round and fat, bouncing and riding his thumb of all things. his hand rests over his crotch, large finger pointing outward only to be swallowed by your tight wet slit.

sure, it’s an unusual sight but also a pretty one. It's obscured a bit from the graceful sway of your pretty tits, but greedily he watches the every-so-often turn of your head to see the flesh of your own ass jiggle with every stroke of your hips.

his muscled body is barely tucked between your soft thighs as you draw your much-needed pleasure from his thumb— not his cock. even his tongue would suffice, to fuck apart your taut center with his mouth.

he’s definitely big enough to do it, but no, your fascination lies with his hands.

“so big kö. . . “

he wants to laugh, whether it’s out of exasperation or pure disbelief that his one finger could drag out such a reaction.

maybe he’s underestimated the size difference, maybe the little bunny hopping in his lap is much smaller than he thought. maybe he’s bigger than he thought.

“s’not even my cock, liebling. . .”

puffy lips enclose around the appendage, only seeming to fatten up from your aggressive rhythm. your fingers dig into his shoulders to steady yourself as your hole gushes out little creamy spurts of your wetness.

“if my thumb is so big how can i expect you to take my cock, hm ?”

it’s light-hearted, but you can sense the not-so-hidden layer of his anxiety. you’ve seen him in all of his naked glory, how his cock is as big as the rest of him. how swollen it gets when you’ve teased him too much, and it swells against his abdomen with erratic thumps, but you’ve mastered re-assuring the sweet giant.

“im gonna do it . don’t worry . .”

you slightly speed up your little bounces, enjoying the way your clit grazes against his clad body.

könig’s rough hand rests on your ass, parting the fat cheek to watch the hungry convulse of your pussy.

“you’re so good to me, so I know you’re gonna take care of me, kö.”

that adorable sentiment makes him harder. his balls tighten in his pants, aroused simply by the thought of tending to his saccharine sweet girl.

keuche in meinem verdammten mund. sag mir, wie gut ich auf dich aufpasse. ‘pant in my fucking mouth. tell me how good I am at taking care of you’.

his cock aches, incredibly turned on by the thought of his precious girl having faith that he’d handle you with such trust.

he’d try.

he’ll kiss your messy holes, and rub your tender and sodden flesh with rough and scar-lined fingers. hands ghosted with the souls of stolen life, plunging into your wet cunt until it can stretch to finally take his cock.

“keep hopping f’me, hase.”

he spanks the widest part of your ass eliciting more of your drooly whines.

“daddy will get you nice and ready for his fat cock, ja?”

you’re losing the strength to keep yourself up, and the impact on the roundness of your butt propels you a bit forward. you let it happen.

you lean into him, kissing him messily on the mouth over his tattered mask breathing hot air, “ mhm. can’t wait anymore, baby. . .”

“ schiesse. excited for me to pound that little pussy ?” he chuckles. it’s a little pathetic, your flappy little clit wipes against the skin of his hand and that’s it to make you twitch violently.

he mutters a string of things in german.

you can’t make out what he’s saying exactly, but you know it’s filthy and gross. he’s sucking marks on your neck, groaning and rambling in your ear as you leak all over his lower half. his other hand cups you to help guide your bottom.

“ fuck. . . ah ah ah. koo . . m’gonna cum . .”

he’s far too worked up, thrilled even that any part of him will always be enough to satisfy you from his massive size.

he wiggles his finger deeper , poking and sliding between your walls until you seize around him.

god, it’s precious. you're pulling on him, whining and tossing in his embrace, begging him to hold you.

“ so perfect, schatz.”

so soft, so little when he untangles your limbs. so pretty when he lays you on the bed and tucks his pruned finger in your tiny mouth.

your cheeks suction and your lips pucker around his thumb, slowly dragging your head up and down just like he taught you.

“thaaat’s it maus. . . y’like big things in your mouth, hm ?”

he rubs his erection through the cotton twill. those doe eyes blink up at him in a daze as you lick your ruin from the hands all too familiar with terror.

“gutes kleines mädchen.” good little girl.

#𝚜𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚕𝚎𝚜 ⪩⪨ .𖥔 ݁ ˖#so hard not write daddie kink I swear T_T #did this rq while I had my coffee <\3 #I dnt play cod okieeeee !!#konig x reader #konig smut #konig cod #konig mw2 #konig call of duty #konig x you #konig x y/n #könig x reader #könig call of duty #könig smut #cod smut

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bagdaddyb · 8 months

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Oh to Mate

Kinktober 🎃

Summary: ABO with little plot but a lot of smut cause sometimes we all need omega Nat in our lives.

Pairing: alpha g!pReader x omega! Nat

Warnings: NSFW NSFW NSFW. 18+ Minors DNI . Asshole Steve.

AN: First time posting my writing in a while but I miss it. Hopefully I've improved. Enjoy!

It started out as simple disbelief. Natasha was tired of all the female omegas around the compound raving about you, unmated fun and a few sympathy ruts left many of the females hoping you'd truly become their alpha. No one could be that good, Natasha's few experiences with unmated alphas were less than pleasurable an alpha never even having made her cum. So only to prove the rumors wrong when her next heat started to come around she stayed close to you every free moment she had. On the final day before she knew she'd have to isolate everytime you came around she let go small whimpers and pained noises. It was no surprise by that night that you approched her mentioning a sympathy rut and offering to help her through her heat. Now in her room a few hours later heat hitting her full force she squirmed not looking forward to another unsatisfied heat.

She was already bare her body temperature, threatening to overheat if she kept on clothing. Laying on her back head propped on her pillows surrounded by things she used to put together a make shift nest she watched as you slowly pulled off your shirt scars laced your abdomen and arms proof of past missions and a tramatic back story. You were thick with muscle and meat. A large alpha whose presence could be felt enter a room you would make any omega happy. You kept on your shorts and bra on not wanting to intimidate the omega. Approaching slowly, you stand at the end of the bed, eyeing the case of water and small snacks you'd stacked near the bed before meeting Natasha's eye.

"May I enter your nest?"

Natasha's brows raised in slight surprise, while a nest was meant to be an omegas safe space she hadn't met an alpha who'd respected it yet.

"Yes."

She whispered. You cut back your scent as much as possible, climbing lightly into the nest not wanting to disturb anything or overwhelm the omega.

"What do you need omega? How can I help you?"

Another surprise, since when did an alpha care about anyone other than themselves. A whimper left Natasha involuntarily, it'd been a long time since she's had an alpha this close during her heat and it was making the pain worse.

"It hurts."

Natasha whimpered slightly curling in on herself. Releasing a comforting noise you crawl towards Natasha hovering over her you lean and kiss her head before moving down her body, you run your hands down her side as you kiss her chest leaving fire in your wake. You left kisses everywhere you could reach softly sucking each of her nipples before continuing down. Lifting her legs you finally reach her apex slick leaking out of her. You dont waste another second there was nothing better than an omegas slick, eating her out desperately you lick up every ounce of juice you can get. Something was sweeter about Natasha, her slick like candy and you'd always had a sweet tooth. Natasha moaned loudly, no alpha has ever gone down on her before and the sensation running through her caused goosebumps to appear on her body.

"(Y/N)."

Your name slipped from her lips in a mixture of disbelief and pleasure. Her hands gripped the sheets, back arching off the bed, knots tying in her stomach. Oh my god. Natasha thought as she looked down at you meeting your predatory gaze. Oh my god. You slurped, sucked, and lightly nibbled at every piece of Natasha slowly building her up until finally penetrating her with your tongue. Natasha visibly jumped before rolling her hips roughly. Oh my god.

"I'm cumming, I'm cumming alpha."

Another second was all it took before her eyes rolled to the back of her head body spasming with pleasure she'd never felt before. For only a mere moment her heat tampered down, catching her breath as you climb back up her body.

"Mmmm there we go omega, that won't be the last time you cum for me."

Your voice is deep as you lean into her neck taking a deep breath of her scent gland and Natasha's arms wrap around you needing you closer.

"Alpha please, please, I need more."

You hum again your own sympathy rut making your erection painful. Pulling off your shorts and boxers you spring out slapping against Natasha's stomach. The feeling of your length is enough to make Natasha eyes dialate even more you were thick and long bigger than any alpha she's taken before. Whimpers escape her, you're taking to long, grinding up against you she feels your shuddering breath against her neck. Leaning back on your knees you pump your cock giving Natasha her first view of your member and she nerely drools. Pumping yourself a few times before rubbing against Natasha you look into the eyes of the omega below you.

"Do you want this omega?"

"Yes, YES! I need you alpha."

Loosing your focus you let your pheromones go your scent surrounding Natasha and overtaking her nest making her go feral. You slip in slowly, too slowly for Natasha the stretch was a wonderful burn and the full feeling she needed. She felt doused in her heats fire. You pumped into her gently giving her time to adjust another action unlike any other alpha who only cared about thier own pleasure. Bending back down over the omega you tuck your arms close to Natasha your right hand holding the back of Natasha's neck, sticking your nose back against Natasha's scent gland you shudder taking in the omegas intoxicating scent. Natasha'sm arms wrap back around you the hold you have on her highly intimate keepings your bodies impossibly close which you knew an omega craved. Pumping into her you penetrate her hard and deep. High pitched noises leaking from Natasha's mouth.

"So good alpha, you feel so good."

Releasing a light growl you open your mouth careful of your canines you bite Natasha's scent gland without breaking the skin. In an instant Natasha spasms beneath you an orgasm having been ripped out of her.

"Alpha.... alpha."

Natasha cried the pleasure she felt almost overwhelming. Letting go of her neck you lift to meet her in a sloppy passionate kiss. Your hips never faulter keeping their bruising pace pounding into her. Your hand on the back of her throat felt possessive your free hand grabbing her leg to raise it to your shoulder. Now wide open your thrust hit Natasha at a different angle and the red head releases high pitched whines into your mouth unable to maintain the kiss.

"Alpha, please alpha."

Natasha wasn't even sure what she was asking for anymore eyes rolling as another orgasm takes over her body.

"Just like that omega. You like that don't you, like how your alpha takes care of you."

Natasha can only whimper your words causing another wave of slick, her head nodding in response. Bending towards her scent gland you lightly bite again. Another rapid orgasm taking over the red head. Growling into the bite your grip tightens on the woman pace becoming a bit faster and rougher. After a few thrust Natasha feels your knot begin to slam at her entrance and she almost cries.

"Yes alpha knot me, fill me up."

You growl again slamming against the red head faster, Natasha's eyes roll as she cums for what must be the sixth time but before she can be breached you pull out releasing your white ooze onto the omegs stomach. Natasha whimpers repeatedly, your knot wasted, having been the last thing she needed to feel whole. You let go of her neck releasing relaxing pheromones while you pepper her face is kisses.

"Relax omega, relax."

You hum into her skin until you feel the womans rapid heartbeat calmdown. As her adrenaline stops Natasha feels satisfied for the first time ever, her heat subsiding enough for her to relax. You lean away from her grabbing a water from the case and Natasha releases a distressed sound at the distance.

"Shhhh omega. Drink this, you need to stay hydrated."

The woman grabs the bottle downing it quickly if only to have you close again.

"Good omega now rest, you'll need it."

You return to your previous position pressed up against the omega listening to her heartbeat until you're sure she is asleep. Rolling next to the omega you take breaths of your own, your rut having been left unfulfilled since you hadn't knotted the woman. Even though your knot subsided your hard on continued to rage. Relaxing as much as you can you lay on your back closing your eyes, you needed rest as well. For the first time in her life she came out of her heat two days later feeling satisfied rather than her usual seven days of misery. Laying in her nest which still smelled strongly of your scent she couldn't stop the smile that rested on her face. You'd been a good alpha taking care of her every need keeping her fed and hydrated suddenly Natasha felt a longing. Wanting a bond, wanting to truly mate with you. It isn't till the next day that her happy bubble pops, whispers of other omega sheild agents making her remember why she went for you in the firzt place. Not only had you gone way past her expectations but now the way these woman spoke about you made her blood boil. Overwhelming her with the want to attack the woman talking about her alpha. Natasha once again sticks to you like glue after her heat bristling and sending glares at any omega who even thinks to look your way. At first you think nothing of it Natasha was your partner, you'd been working together for over a year now but a week later when you hear her little growl at Maria when she approaches you about paperwork you put together the signs of her overly possessive behavior. You aren't quite sure what you want to do, you don't want to possibly mess up the close bond you two share but at the same time you are an unmated alpha the after effects of her heat should of faded days ago. Thinking back to Natasha's heat your mouth begins to water, the omega was candy. The sweetest nectar you'd ever had and helping her through her heat you were more attentive than you've been with any omega thus far. You can see Natasha being a good omega not just a good omega but your omega, you want to care for her protect her claim her. But at the same time you aren't sure you're ready to mate aren't sure you'd be the alpha any omega deserved. You ponder on this for days but by the end of it, it seems you don't need to make a decision. Natasha seems to distance herself from you, her overly possessive behavior abandoned in favor of space. Space you assumed she needed so you didn't comment on it at first no matter how much your alpha yearned for the omega to be near. Now near a month later you know the red heads heat should be approaching any day now. Staring at her across the room during one of Tony's over the top parties you can't help the low growl that starts while you watch her closely hover around Steve. He was an alpha you disdained, having heard enough from omegas in the compound for a lifetime of disappointment. He believes himself somewhat a god, treating the omegas around him like objects rather than people and the thought of him rutting with Natasha during her heat made your Alpha flash with rage. All it takes is a second. Steve wraps his arm around Natasha's waist and you're on your feet quickly cutting across the crowd to get to their location. You try to reign in your growl but it seems futile the closer you get to the pair. Natasha looks your way first, her omega senses alert to the sound and smell of angry alphas. The look on your face says you're ready for a fight chest rising and falling rapidly and she hates the way her omega responds breaking from Steves tight grip to address your distress. She tried to distance herself from you, determined not to become a fangirl like the rest but she was to close to her heat, to intune with her primal instincts to be away. You stop when you see Natasha approach allowing her to enter your space eyes never leaving her form.

"(Y/N)? Are you alright?"

You hesitate not sure what to say, not sure if you should say anything. Then you smell her, early stages of heat making her scent even sweeter and lean into her space.

"Omega."

You whisper in her ear and fight back the smirk at the whimper you get in response. You wrap your arm around Natasha's waist taking the place Steve once held before guiding her towards the doors. Natasha allows herself to be guided, your touch burning her skin your scent igniting something inside her. Once outside the venue in the cold night air Natasha feels some relief your heat not all encompassing. You lead Natasha to your car opening the passenger door for her before climbing in the drivers side youself. Your leg bounces impatiently as you start the vehicle the mere ten minute drive to the compound seeming to long in your mind.

"Since your last heat I crave you omega."

You pause if only to gauge Natasha's reaction peaking at her out the side of your eye you catch her surprised expression and decide to continue.

"I crave your pressence, I crave your scent, I gave you the space I thought you needed. I thought I needed, but tonight seeing you with another alpha I almost lost it."

Your grip tightens on the steering wheel just thinking about the way Steve touched the omega, your omega. Natasha remains silent unsure of what to say or what to do and you respond in kind holding your tongue until you pull into the parking garage of the compound. You put the car in park sitting for a moment in the silence before speaking again softly.

"The truth is Natasha, I want to mark you make you mine if you'd have me. You don't have to respond today, don't have to respond at all. I'm still not sure I'm the alpha you want or the alpha any omega deserves but I know I want to be your alpha."

With that you open your door exiting the car. Walking to Natasha's side you open her door for her closing it behind her once she exits the car.

"Just think it over."

With that you walk away entering the compound without another word and the red head remains too stunned to speak. You, (Y/N), the infamous alpha just propositioned to mate Natasha. You asked to mate her, since when do alphas ask but thinking on it Natasha realizes you've always asked. Asked to help her with her heat, asked to enter her nest, even asked her repeatedly how she was doing during her heat. In three short days you'd cared for her more than any alpha ever had maybe thats why she felt so possessive over you after. Maybe thats why she got excited everytime she caught your scent or perked up everytime you showed her attention. But maybe it wasn't, maybe Natasha wanted you just like you wanted her. The red head never even considered mating, her experiences with alphas proving that it would only hurt her and hold her back but with you the possibilities were endless. Despite being the alpha you'd always given her control giving her the opportunity to say no at any point. The next morning telltale signs of Natasha's heat overwhelmed her senses she'd be fully succumbed by nightfal for sure and even after a good nights sleep her thoughts couldn't help but flood to you. Alpha. Hopping up Natasha dresses rapidly eager to be in your pressence. Exiting her room she moves quick before another alpha catches wind of her. Natasha surprises herself by how fast she arrives outside your door, knocking six times rapidly she cluches herself goosebumps running over her skin despite heating up.

"Mmmh well well well what do we have here."

Steve's voice cuts through Natasha like a knife.

"Where'd you go last night omega? I thought we'd have a little fun."

His eyes are predatory, evil and Natasha isn't sure if in her state she has the strength to fight the alpha off.

"No Steve."

The alphas nostrils flare taking the direct rejection as a challenge.

"Who are you to tell me no omega bitch?"

He growls and Natasha growls back. Steve grabs Natasha's wrist harshly tugging her into his space but before he could do more you appear pouncing on him like a feral animal. Your growl shakes Natasha with its intensity as you throw blow after blow at the man you tackled.

"You little alpha piece of shit, it's dumbasses like you that give alphas a bad name."

You hit him across the face repeatedly your pent up frustations taken out on him one by one. You loose yourself in your anger, he touched your omega how dare he. It isn't until Natasha is trying to pull you back screaming at you to stop that you see the true damage you've done to your fellow super soilder your knuckles covered in his blood. Standing you spit on him before kicking him one last time.

"Touch my omega again and I'll kill you."

You say deathly low before pulling the distressed omega through your door locking it securely behind you. You immediately begin to scan her, eyes and hands running over her body to confirm her safety and once you're satisfied you let out a verbal sigh of relief. You pull Natasha into you holding her close and breathing in her scent.

"I"m sorry. I stepped out to grab a snack I should of been here. Did he hurt you?"

Tears appear in Natasha's eyes, at the way you'd fiercely protected her. At the way you'd cared for her and Natasha knows with certainty she wants you.

"No."

Natasha whispers and it doesn't seems to be enough pulling back you scan her again double checking her for any signs of foul play.

"I'm sorry for verbally claiming you, my instincts took over and I had to protect you."

Natasha fights back her tears as she looks at your concerned face.

"Don't apologize alpha, I want you. Claim me. Make me yours."

Your eyes shoot to the green ones infornt of you. Her easily ignored heat due to your adrenaline now burning your nostrils.

"Are you sure? This isn't just the heat talking is it?"

Natasha laughs happy tears finally falling which she quickly wipes away.

"Yes alpha, I'm sure."

You surge foreward meeting her lips in a passionate kiss and lifting her in your arms. You take her to your bed never breaking the kiss overwhelmed with a need to be attached to the omega laying her lightly you break away from her lips only to travel down to her neck. Hesitating at her scent gland you take a deep breath before pulling back the omega below you whines but you ignore it urging her attention elsewhere.

"I wasn't sure you would come but just in case I stacked blankets, clothes, and pillows here so that you may nest."

Natasha's eye buldge before shooting to the pile you gestured at.

"I noticed you nesting at the beginning of your last heat and I want you to be comfortable. I tried to keep my scent to a bare minimum as not to overwhelm you."

You pull away completely allowing Natasha to turn over and crawl towards the pile, watching her take in all the fabrics and items.

"Nest omega, I want you to be comfortable."

Natasha turns to you again lifting on her knees before pulling you into a tight embrace that you return before she turns and gets to work you merely stand by and watch enjoying the attention Natasha gives to every little detail of her nest. Your eyes wonder to your hands and you quickly step towards the bathroom washing off the evidence of Steve beating. It only takes five minutes and you are surprised by the speed at which she works but don't deny her needy whines when she lays to stare at you.

"May I enter your nest?"

"Of course alpha."

You crawl back over the omega giving her a sweet kiss before pulling her shirt above her head glad yet unsurprised to find nothing underneath. Throwing the shirt towards the edge of the nest so it can have her scent you move your lips to her chest.

"My beautiful omega."

You whisper against her skin before you trail love bites down. Corrupting her perfect milky skin with your dark purple marks. You suck on both of her nipples getting them rock hard before continuing down. Your eyes get darker with every claiming mark you leave and as you get to her lower stomach your fingers hook her shorts swiftly pulling them down. Your mouth begins to water as her shorts are discarded elsewhere. Pushing her knees to her chest you come eye to eye with the feast of her slick.

"You smell so good omega."

Natasha whines in response hips wiggling in your hold. Without hesitation you begin your meal, lapping up her slick like a dehydrated dog. Her sweet nectar addicting and you can't get enough. You slurp and suck at her bud cause loud moans to fall from the red head.

"Feels so good alpha."

Natasha moans back arching of the bed. You growl against her center tongue entering her in search of more of her juices and Natasha releases a high pitch squeal. Hips bucking in time with your tongue before she spasms and you're rewarded with her orgasm straight in your mouth.

"You taste so good omega."

You growl against her, lips trailing to the back of her thighs leaving dark purple to match her abdomen.

"Mine."

You growl against her skin before moving up to meet her lips in a sloppy kiss. Natasha meets you with equal passion arms wrapping tightly around you holding you close.

"I need you alpha, it hurts."

You lift to your knees in response quickly pulling your shirt over your head and taking off your bra before removing your shorts and boxers. You spring out releasing a small sigh of relief as you being to pump yourself.

"Fill me up alpha, claim me."

Natasha whispers and you possessivly growl. Rubbing your cock through her slick you use her juices as lubricant before slowly slipping in. Natasha moans at your intrusion the wonderful strech making her feel whole. You enter her space pressing your chest against her you hold her tightly one arm tucking under her back the other tucking behind her neck hand holding the back of her neck your lips meet hers. Natasha holds you back tightly bodies molded together as you begin to pump into her roughly. High pitched whines enter your mouth as you kiss Natasha, devouring her mouth until its clear she needs air.

"My beautiful omega. Mine. Mine. Mine."

You whisper against her lips burying yourself as deeply as you can before pulling out again.

"Yours alpha, yours."

Natasha whines before spasming as she orgasms. You tuck your head into her scent gland taking deep breaths of the omegas scent. Natasha does the same your scent surrounding her, your body pressed against her, you planted deep inside her. The red head feels like she's going crazy. Her skin buzzes as her fingers run into your hair holding your head closer to her neck. She's on fire yet she needs more, she needs more of you.

"Mark me alpha. I'm yours, make me yours."

You open your mouth trailing your teeth against Natasha skin causing electricity to run through the omega.

"Mine."

You growl against her skin before sinking your canines into her scent gland. Natasha's eyes roll into the back of her head, an unbelievable orgasm washing over her body. The pleasure is intense orgasm stretching on for what feels like years. Her slick leaks out of her in waves as you pound her and her nails dig into your back. By the time Natasha comes down from the high she's drunk on you. A blabbering mess of noises.

"Alpha. Alpha."

Natasha whimpers over and over again and you finally release her neck licking at the mark.

"Omega, my omega."

You pump into her wildly riding on the high of your mating mark. Natasha clenches around you again another orgasm washing over her as your knot begins to slam at her entrance.

"My personal cum dump, you're gonna take it aren't you omega? Take my knot and get filled with my seed. Swollen with my pups only mine."

Moans escapse Natasha at your words nails digg8ng into your skin.

"Yes alpha, fill me up. I need it, I need your pups inside me."

You pump into her faster your own moans escaping at her words using her for your own pleasure.

"Fuck. Yeah take it omega. You feel so good I could pump into you all day. Fuck squeezing me for all I'm worth."

Your hips begin to stutter as your lips return to hers in a loving kiss, arms wrapping around her tighter your bodies are pressed together as closely as they can be. You continue to work your knot against her entrance feeling how her slick pours out to accommodate you. Breaking the kiss you return to her scent gland teeth sinking into her once more as you knot slips in. Natasha's eyes roll back at the combined feeling of your bite, your warm load seeping into her, and your knot the pleasure so good she nearly passes out. Releasing her neck you lick the wound again before placing light kisses on it.

"Mine."

"Yours."

You hum in satisfaction.

"Bite me omega, mark me as yours."

Tears threaten Natasha's eyes again at your words, rare was the alpha who wore an omegas mark. Many refusing to allow themselves to be publicly tied to one omega and with your words Natasha is once again reassured she chose the right alpha. The red head sinks her canines into your scent gland a light growl releasing from her as she does and is satisfied when she feels another hot spurt of your cum shoot into her.

"Mine."

Natasha whispers against your skin as she licks at the bite.

"Yours."

You whisper back allowing yourself to relax ontop of Natasha baring your whole body weight against her. Three days later by the end of Natasha's heat you feel maybe a bit overly possessive of the female. You haven't left your room since Steve threatened your omega and as the time to break your mating bubble nears you find yourself wanting to be near the omega at all times. Laying in her nest you snuggle into the omegas body, front pressed against her back arm wrapped around her waist. You nuzzle her neck enjoying the way her scent is now mixed with yours and can't help the light possessive growl that rumbles at the back of your throat.

"My beautiful omega."

The omega coos back at you and you release a relaxed sigh.

"We should get you cleaned up and fed."

You say as you begrudgingly sit up causing the omega below you to whine. She rolls over wrapping her arms around you.

"Do we have to?"

You laugh lightly running your fingers through red tresses.

"Yes, you haven't had a proper meal in three days." You shuffle around finding Natasha clothes and handing them to her. Throwing on your old clothes you grab some clean ones as well before walking to your door.

"Come on we'll shower in your room."

The omega nods and stretches before walking towards you. Opening the door you both quietly walk down the hallway enjoying the fresh air. The walk to the omegas room is quiet but peaceful, she stays close to your side the small distance between you two after such a passionate heat seeming like to much. In Natasha's room the two of you shower together, you make love to her one more time in the shower soft and slow before you truly have to return to the reality of the real world.

"I will always protect you omega, you're safe with me."

You hum into her neck as she rides the after shocks of her orgasm.

"My alpha."

The hums back fingers running softly against the back of your neck.

"My omega."

#bottom natasha #natasha romanoff #natasha romanov #natasha x reader #natasha x you #omega natasha #abo #omegaverse #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romonoff x y/n #bagdaddyb

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tojjist · 2 months

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𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐘 ↳ r. sukuna

in which: the king of curses left you the moment you announce your pregnancy to him. but after nearly losing you... he might be having a change of heart contains: very slight objectification of reader, reader is a half-curse, mentions of injury and near-death experience, reader is pregnant, slight mention of pregnancy sex, sukuna is really ooc tbh A/N: yall really wanted soft sukuna lmao. i js wanted to write something more in my own style instead of the tumblr style. It's all over the place really, also obv trueform! sukuna. w.c : 1.6k

“Sukuna-sama?” Your voice comes out a breathy whisper, barely audible.

“Do– ugh,” The pink-haired curse sighs. “Don’t call me that. And don’t make me repeat myself.”

You haven’t known Sukuna to be tender. Actually, scratch that. You used to genuinely believe he mistook the adjective for an affront. He probably still does, despite the sheer softness of his actions. His mind is a marvel far beyond your, or anyone else's, comprehension. And if Sukuna hasn’t always been complicated, his sudden switch of behavior recently has rendered unriddling the complex being that he is even harder.

“What do I call you then?” There’s confusion in your tone; confusion fused with unadulterated innocence. His eyebrows crease further. He loved how naive and ingénue you are. Such a simple, sheepish thing. Easy to lead one, easy to use, easy to hurt. But as of late, he’d come to hate it.

He hates that he hates it. He shouldn’t care.

“I don’t fucking know,” he snaps back. It’s enough to bring you silence, the somber tone he uses coming with a sense of finality.

Rough callouses are surprisingly gentle against your flesh—callouses that slap, bruise, grope, but never caress. Despite that, he pulls your underwear up your thighs with utter care. If you didn’t know any better, you might even dare call his actions delicate.

“Does it hurt?” He reminisces. Curious digits stroke your lower abdomen and across the swell of your belly, where an ugly scar sits. It decorates your skin with a long, uneven line of dried blood cells.

“It’s not too bad,” You assure, daring to test your luck by bringing your own hand to his hair. It causes the king of curses to pause. His ember eyes continue to stare at your scar, unable to swat your hand away for some reason. The wooden floor beneath him feels too cold. Or he feels too hot. He’s unsure.

In the dimness of the room, there is no light but the flickering glow emitted from the fire, ensconced within a cage of brick—a fireplace, by name. Yet, the warmth that enfolds you does not excrete solely from the flames. It originates from within, a pulsating heat that comes with the beat of your heart as a large palm finds your shoulder, urging you forward with an urgency that seems to echo through the very fibers of your being.

“What about this one?”His intense glare persists, averting your demure gaze. Never before have you witnessed him in such a state, making you wonder whether this demeanor is a consequence of recent events.

“It’s fine, I promise,” Your whispered words cause his gaze to harden even further, his thumb tracing over another, deeper cut nestled in the valley between your breasts. This one could have been fatal. The realization sends a shiver down his spine, unsettling him to his core. Sukuna, the ancient and ruthless curse, has borne witness to countless horrors in his long existence, inflicted unspeakable cruelty upon countless souls, but none have shaken him to his core quite like seeing you teetering on the brink of death. The memory stirs within him an unfamiliar sense of disquiet, a realization that his desires may have consequences far more profound than he ever anticipated.

The brawny curse grunts in response, opting to continue examining the scar. He’s careful to not stretch it as your human flesh would hurt.

Sukuna’s agenda never included leaving a child within you. It never even crossed his mind. Such muses were not to be entertained, especially not with you.

You. Yeah, you who doesn't try to kill humans simply for the pleasure it brings. You who takes life so lightly, as if you have several souls to spare. You who accepts every word Sukuna says as an indisputable fact, every order executed before he has a chance to reconsider.

You, who has shared your bed with the strongest curse more times than he cares to count, always intrigued him—an enigmatic subject for his manipulations. You, who confided in him the startling revelation that your half-cursed body now nurtures a growing fetus.

At first, Sukuna swore he'd never visit you again, adamant in his belief that he wanted no involvement in your pregnancy, leaving you to navigate the situation alone. Despite his capability to end your life without hesitation, he chose to spare you. Sukuna granted you a reprieve under the condition that he never crosses paths with you or whatever child you carry. He told himself time and time again that you would be a rather boring kill, not worth the effort. But it wasn't about the difficulty of ending your life—it was an excuse. He'd never admit that he doesn't want your blood staining his hands

Sukuna swears he’s not soft, that he doesn’t care for you at all.But the notion of being the one who brings you to your end does not enthrall him in the least.

He doesn’t care for the inferior likes of you, he reminds himself. That’s absurd. It’s laughable. It’s offensive, even. He doesn’t ‘care’, It’s simply curiosity that keeps him around. Curious of what kind of child the one you carry would come out to be. To see if they’d be worthy of being called his kin or not.

“You’re leaving, aren’t you?” Your voice is dulcet, a melody that cuts his train of thought smoothly. Unlike anything he’s ever heard before. There’s a pleading tone, a need so urgent it's almost painful. He finds pleasure in that. Your perpetual longing for him, your unwavering loyalty even after his defeat by sorcerers the first time around—you kept him close like a devoted guardian to a fallen hero, even when you knew is anything but a hero. It's a power unlike any other—staying but not out of fear, it's a choice. A strong belief.

Balancing on his knees between her parted legs, he reaches out, his fingers finding purchase on the edge of the bed. His grip tightens instinctively, fingers slipping beneath the hem of the sheet as he steadies himself. With a controlled effort, he pushes upward, leveraging the bed for support as he rises to his feet

“Why do you ask questions you know the answer to?” He muses, his towering frame looking down at you. The flickering flames of the fire, their orange hues swirling and weaving a macabre tapestry around his countenance, lend him an aura of terror that would instill fear in any who behold him. Yet, unlike others, you find his presence strangely comforting. Despite the aura of terror he exudes, you've grown accustomed to it, finding solace in his formidable presence now more than ever before.

Your only reaction is to chew on the inside of your cheek, careful to not bite the fiber too hard. There’s an ambivalent air to him, remaining motionless as he towers over you. It seems as if he’s looking for something. Anything. He wants a reason to stay, but he can’t seem to find one satisfying enough.

He owes you nothing. But when you look at him like that… He’s never been one to falter at your pleading face, but perhaps he’s changing little by little. He staunchly refuses to acknowledge this change still, for him to do so would be an admission of vulnerability, a humiliation he cannot bear, even to himself. How he yearns for the willpower to end you, to push you away so you never obstruct his way like this again.

The worst part of it all is his acute awareness of why he feels so strongly now. He knows that it’s all him, and not at all you. He can pinpoint the exact moment he regret leaving your side. The memory is seared into his very core.

He wishes he could forget, to erase the haunting image of you, wounded and bleeding, from his mind.

It was when he came back a few days after his departure, for reasons he can’t recall, only to be greeted by the sight of a malevolent curse looming over you, hungry and poised to make you its next meal. He shouldn’t have intervened. It's the natural order—a relentless cycle where only the strongest survive, preying upon the weaker. He knows he's no exception. Nor are you.

But seeing you sprawled out on the floor, barely intact, with his child inside of you.

He gulps at the memory, feeling an overwhelming urge to touch you once more, to make sure you’re not some figment of his imagination. To keep you from harm. You’re so stupid, so goddamn naive. He doesn’t know what to make of you. Other than a fucking headache.

“What is it? What do you want, brat?” He hopes to catch some semblance of his normal attitude. “Get it over with.”

“Please stay,” You plead, fingers gently gripping the open kimono he had thrown on once finished with you. “Please, Sukuna-sama.”

He sighs. You’re so obstinate.

Perhaps it's his lack of understanding that breeds hesitation within him, or perhaps it's his inherently fierce nature. A thing like you deserves to be treated with the utmost delicacy, cherished and nurtured. Sukuna, with his staunch commitment solely to his ideals, can never be the one assuming such a role for you.

“You’re doing things to me, you know?” Sukuna gets down, kneeling between your parted legs again, placing a warm palm in either side of your hips and seizing you within.

Maybe… staying with you tonight wasn’t such a ludicrous notion. He’s the king of curses; he has all the time in the world to fret the trivial details.

#arabella writes #jjk #sukuna #ryomen sukuna #jjk fluff #sukuna fluff #ryomen sukuna fluff #sukuna x reader #jjk x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna smut #jjk smut #sukun x reader smut #ryomen sukuna smut #dividers by benkeibear

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chronicdisasterwrites · 9 months

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death is pretty but his eyes are prettier

pairing: gojo satoru x reader (gojo’s past arc)

genre + warnings: - blood, injuries, mentions of death, passing out and intestines spilling out of the body (it's a bit gory but nothing crazy), swearing, reader is shorter than satoru but other than that it's gender-neutral (i'm pretty sure), shoko smoking, protective satoru and suguru.

a bit angsty but definitely FLUFF !!

word count: 3,191 (yikes lmao)

authors note: okaaay, so i was inspired by taylor swift saying "you drew stars around my scars", and also i love slow burns and two idiots silently but obviously pining for each other; SO satoru and reader aren't dating here yet. but they very much do like each other.

also apologies in advance if i messed up any location descriptions :')

enjoy this chaos lol <3

I’m an idiot.

The curse was dead. The special grade curse you were assigned to kill was dead and you were almost dead.

As the dissipating remains of the curse mixed with the wind and faded away, you heaved as the blood from the gash across your stomach soaked your dark blue uniform and colored it an even darker shade. Taking a few steps towards the nearest wall, you lean against it, legs buckling and gasping for breath. The light-headedness was growing exponentially and you had to force your eyes to stay open and your legs to stay upright. Blinking rapidly and trying to regain focus, you press one hand to the gaping wound on your abdomen. Red bleeds through your fingers and you feel like you might just pass out. Or die. Or both.

Feeling liquid drip down your chin, you lift your other hand to the right side of your cheek to assess the source of what you assumed had to be blood. Sure enough, your previously bloodless hand was now stained with sticky crimson. Slowly moving your finger on your cheek to figure out where the blood was coming from you felt a sharp pain when your hand made contact with what seemed to be a pretty large cut.

Shit. That’s gonna leave a scar.

Your scythe was broken so you had no weapons to worry about carrying back to Jujutsu High. Sluggishly taking your phone out of your uniform pocket you pray to every force you know to let your phone be okay. The black cracked screen stares back at you and the reflection of your worn out, disappointed, and bloodied face is all you see.

Oh, you have got to be kidding me.

Now the question is whether to go to a hospital and get questioned by non-sorcerers about the horrendous wounds covering your entire body or, to go to Shoko and get patched up and hopefully not get asked too many questions and look like an absolute idiot.

Shoko will ask questions and she’ll obviously be concerned. If Shoko knows, Satoru and Suguru are bound to find out and they won’t be happy with the higher-ups about this… misjudgment.

So, the hospital sounds better. But the nearest hospital is further from my current location than jujutsu high.

Your breathing is getting shallower and your head feels so light you feel like it’ll just fall off. Closing your eyes and taking the deepest breath you could take without feeling like your stomach will tear open from the searing pain, you decide.

Fuck it. Shoko it is.

Pushing yourself off the wall with one hand still clutched to your bleeding stomach you start moving towards Jujutsu High. You control your breathing and use every last bit of cursed energy you have left to staunch the bleeding and somewhat ease your pain. With that, you urge your legs to move as fast as physically possible without breaking down.

---

You don’t know how you made it without bleeding out in the middle of the road, but the gates of Jujutsu High have never looked prettier. But, the sight of the stairs was enough to make bile rise to your throat. Swallowing it down and heaving some more, you make your way up the neverending steps of your inevitable doom.

Upon reaching the final step, your legs give out and you fall, wounded cheek first onto the stoned pavement. The pain was like nothing you’ve ever felt before; shooting upwards to your neurons and all the way down your body, right to the tips of your fingers and toes.

It feels so nice to lie down. No no, get the hell up and go to Shoko. Or all this damn walking would’ve been for absolutely nothing.

Hours was it? Or minutes? You’re not sure but you managed to get back up. After first turning from your side to your back and then bending one leg and then using one hand to help your body up and then finally sitting up. Then at a snail’s pace, managing to stand up on your two feet you start moving towards the morgue, where Shoko spends most of her time anyways. That was your best bet. And if she wasn’t there, well then death seemed like the next best option.

Slugging your way to the morgue, one hand still clutched to your stomach, you aggressively slap your free hand on the doorknob and turn it with your full body weight on the door. The door swings open and unable to keep your balance, you fall again, right cheek hitting the cold floor for the second time that day.

All you remember hearing before your eyes finally shut is the sound of a chair screeching on the floor followed by the sound of rapid footsteps and a string of unintelligible words you assumed belonged to Shoko.

---

Darkness. More darkness. Muted voices. Yelling. Some more darkness. Pain.

When you finally open your eyes, everything is a blur. You blink a few times and look around until your eyes find something to focus on. The white walls, the green curtains, and the smell of antiseptic chemicals all lead you to believe you are in the infirmary. Flexing your hands one, two, three times before slowly lifting your right hand up to gently caress your right cheek, you feel the soft cloth of a bandage taped to your skin. Bringing the same hand down to lay it flat upon the blanket covering your abdomen, you apply the slightest bit of pressure down until you feel a slight prick of pain. Lifting the blanket up you tilt your head down to check the situation. You’re wearing a flowy hospital gown and your stomach looks a bit bulky. Feeling around the wound site you realize there’s a bandage there too. Laying your hand back down by your side, you stare up at the ceiling, wondering how you were even alive.

The creaking of the door opening breaks you from your stupor.

“That was fast. Thought you’d be out for longer,” comes the smooth voice, the smell of cigarettes and that familiar sandalwood sweet perfume you know only belongs to Shoko.

Turning your head to the side you watch her sit down on the chair next to you fiddling with an unlit cigarette and crossing her legs. Her bangs almost cover her left eye and you notice how tired she looks. She sighs and looks at you with a lazy smile, fingers still twirling the cigarette with ease, she asks, “How you feeling?”

You shift and push yourself up to lean your back against the headrest of the bed. With a loud exhale you look back at her with a half-assed smile, “I’m great actually. Good job, doc.” You give her a thumbs up and hope it’ll be enough to squash any more questions she might have.

With her smile still on her face, she looks down at the cigarette and hums, “You know, Gojo was about to unleash hell on the higher-ups for giving you that mission.”

Your smile is immediately replaced with a frown and you feel unbelievably small upon hearing this. With a scowl you ask, “I mean, the mission was a success, wasn’t it?" You shrug, "And I’m fine too so win-win.”

Finally, her smile fades as she stares straight at you; and you think this is the most serious you have ever seen Shoko look, “You could’ve died. That doesn’t seem like “fine” to me. For once I actually agree with Gojo. It wasn’t right of them to assign you on that mission, especially without warning.”

“I’m feeling unbelievably underestimated right now, Shoko,” your voice is small as you fiddle with the seams of the blanket covering the lower half of your body.

Shoko sighs and shakes her head, short hair swishing as she leans forward with her arms on her legs, “I’m not doubting your abilities. No one is doubting your skills. But your wounds were really bad, you know that as well as I do.”

It’s quiet for a bit before you speak again. You look at her downturned head as you reach out your hand to hold hers. Your voice is demure.

“I know. I’m sorry for worrying you, Shoko. But I promise I’m fine. And that’s all thanks to you.” You smile at her as she lifts her head enough to lock her eyes with yours. A smile she doesn’t return but her hand holds yours back and you know she believes you now.

“Yeah well try not to pass out with your intestines all over the floor next time, thanks.”

You laugh. “I promise. I hope you’re joking about the intestines though.”

Shoko huffs a short laugh and lets go of your hand. Bringing the cigarette to her mouth as she stands up she says, “Your cursed energy is the reason that’s a joke. It’s amazing you held out for that long. But don’t get too used to that luck.”

Bringing your hand back to your lap, you watch as she makes her way out and shuts the door.

Immediately after leaving she pokes her head in again and says one thing before leaving again without waiting for your reply, “Please talk to Gojo and Geto. Go now actually.”

You sigh and bring down one foot then the other. The light-headedness returns once you stand up but it’s manageable, so you look around for a change of clothes when you find a new uniform folded neatly on the side table next to your bed.

Changing into the new uniform, you make your way out to look for either Satoru or Suguru or if you’re lucky (more so unlucky) both of them.

---

Jujutsu High really is beautiful this time of the season. The cherry blossoms are in full bloom and the campus looks downright ethereal. You think while walking the halls how this place would feel if it were just an ordinary high school and not a place teaching kids how to wield weapons and slay curses. The classrooms would be filled with boisterous students and teachers talking in the courtyard. Canteens with flirting couples and students playing football outside. The gymnasium would hold basketball games with students wearing the school jersey and cheering for the school team. It would be different. It wouldn’t be Jujutsu High, you think.

“Well well, look who’s up and walking already,” the loud, smug voice you know only belongs to one white-haired, blue-eyed boy.

Stopping in your tracks you turn around and stand face to face with Satoru. You give him a sheepish smile and with the sweetest voice you can muster you say, “Hey there Satoru! I was just looking for you!”

Satoru scoffs and walks closer to you.

"Drop the crap."

Oh shit.

Once close enough to touch you he waits for a few beats staring at your face, eyes locked with yours as he occasionally looks at the bandage on your cheek. He breathes your name.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he seethes.

You groan, exasperated but expecting this reaction.

“I’m okay, Satoru. I don’t get why this is such a big deal honestly.”

You can see his eyes widen behind his sunglasses with pure rage as he scoffs yet again. His voice gets louder and his arms flail around trying to prove his point,

“Oh, you don’t get why this is a big deal? Well for starters, you could have died. You’re a semi-first grade, why the hell would you even accept a job to kill a special grade curse?”

“Okay, I didn’t know it was a special grade. And I killed it, didn’t I? Have some faith in me,” your tone matches his and you glower as you cross your hands across your chest.

He starts pacing back and forth, facepalming himself to oblivion as he goes on a rant,

“Oh my- that’s not the point! It’s not about having faith. You were all messed up and half dead and you could’ve been fully dead and we were almost about to kill those stupid old geezers but then Shoko stopped us and I swear if she didn’t we would’ve actually gone through with it. I mean seriously what the hell-“

You stomp forward mid-rant and grab him by the shoulders, forcing him to stop. Your voice is soft but steady like you’re comforting a child in distress.

“Satoru calm down. I’m okay. The curse is dead. It’s fine. Now please breathe.”

He stares at you through his sunglasses. His chest is heaving and fists are clenched by his sides, not trying to move at all even though he could easily shove you away and continue pacing and ranting.

He dips his head down and exhales deeply, shoulders slanted downwards and breathing slowing down. He moves forward as his arms encircle your body and his head rests on top of yours. Your nose is squished against his chest and you can smell his scent; a mix of sweets, laundry detergent, and his signature scent; the smell of dewdrops and what you assume would probably be some expensive brand of perfume. You relax against him as you breathe him in and your arms move to hug him back. Shifting your head to rest your cheek on his chest you hear his heart beat steadily. You close your eyes and get lost in the feeling of Satoru.

Neither of you say anything, but say everything at the same time. All his thoughts poured into that one hug, and you silently hear them all as you hug him a bit tighter.

You can feel him gulp as his Adam's apple moves against your forehead. His voice is small and honest as he says, “I would kill them all. If you didn’t wake up, I wouldn’t hesitate to kill them all.”

You know he would, so it’s not really a confession. But it feels like a confession. Satoru would turn the world upside down for the people he loves. You know that too well.

“I know,” your voice is quiet. You feel so safe in Satoru’s arms. You think it’s so embarrassing how safe you feel whenever you’re with him. You feel like a baby; guard down and vulnerable. You’re sure Satoru feels the same way. You’ve never once seen him keep his Infinity on when he’s with you.

He hugs you tighter and you can feel his heart rate quicken. He takes a deep breath and exhales as he lets you go and looks at you. You tilt your head up and try to find those cerulean blues hidden behind the shade of his sunglasses. Lifting your hand up to push his glasses up to his head you finally look right into the swirling blues of his eyes. They’re like the ocean. Calm, but with an unmistakable power surging within them. Like the energy you feel in the water right before a wave is formed, the blues in his eyes seem to pulse and flow with power. But they’re also still and serene, and filled with so much emotion. His eyes hold so much more than just power.

His hand comes up to your bandaged cheek and he slowly takes off one side of the tape and then another until the bandage flaps open. You suddenly feel smaller and even more vulnerable. You haven’t even seen your face with the scar yet (you’re positive there’s a scar). His eyes zone in on the cut as he traces the raised flesh lining the center of your cheek. As his finger runs down the scar, you envision just how large the cut really is; about 3 inches vertical. It didn’t hurt anymore. Shoko really is a fantastic sorcerer, you think. Not moving your eyes from Satoru’s even once, you see the whirlpool of emotions swirl around in those crystal blues. Anger, sadness, worry, relief, adoration, hope.

His jaw clenches as he furrows his brows ever so slightly, fingers moving across your scar with featherlight pressure. Moving his gaze to your eyes, he rests his entire palm against your wounded cheek. Adjusting his hand to hold the side of your face perfectly like two pieces of the same puzzle, his thumb lays on the scar with a gentleness you didn’t know Satoru had.

It’s so quiet, you can hear your heart pounding in your chest. The occasional breeze and the mellow chirping of birds bring you back to the world, otherwise, you’re positive you’d forget all about the outside world and be content standing in the middle of the hall in Jujutsu High wrapped in Gojo Satoru’s arms.

You and Satoru were friends. Of course, you loved him, but that love is no different from the love you have for Shoko and Suguru. They’re your home. You’re a family. You know they love you too.

But right now, it feels different than all the other times Satoru has held you. Held your hand, held your face, hugged you, clumsily threw his lanky arms over your shoulders, ran his fingers through your hair, wiped the blood off your face, flicked you on the forehead, patted you on the head, messed up your hair, rested his head on top of yours. This particular instance feels different. More intimate, perhaps.

Maybe because you really could’ve died. Your life was hanging by a thread and you don’t seem to understand that. You were so prepared to die, that such a close brush with death’s scythe didn’t affect you in the slightest. This job comes with a guarantee of death. Even though that is life in general; being a jujutsu sorcerer means your days are already numbered. Anytime you embark on a mission, your chances of dying are much higher than your chances of survival. So you always went out on the field with the thought of dying. Knowing you could die and leave everything and everyone behind. But this was the first time you felt you were one step through death’s door.

You can feel Satoru’s breath on your face, and you think he might kiss you. You keep one hand on his back as you lift the other to hold his wrist near your jaw. As he leans forward you close your eyes bracing for the kiss to reach your lips. But it doesn’t reach the place you were expecting. Instead, the lightest kiss touches your forehead, almost chaste; as he lingers there for a moment and then moves back.

By now, your heart is racing and you think you’re dreaming. Only when his hands leave you, do you open your eyes and realize this isn’t a dream.

He exhales as he stands straight, with both hands by his side. Bringing his sunglasses back down, perched on the bridge of his nose, he gives you a small smile, “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

You try to mask your stunned expression with a smile and nod.

As he turns to leave he says, “Suguru’s at the gymnasium, probably.”

You release the breath you didn’t realize you were holding, “Alright.”

He walks away and you go in the other direction.

part 2

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #jjk fluff #jjk angst #gojo satoru x y/n #jjk x y/n #suguru geto #shoko ieiri #bruh why am i blushing #reader is kinda nonchalant ngl

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yourdoorisunlocked · 4 months

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What A Dish, What A Doll! - Part 2

𝐀/𝐍: Been cooking' this one up for a while now (͡° ͜ʖ ͡°). I'm not entirely averse to writing smut, just inexperienced at it lmao. I won't gatekeep, though. If the people ask, then they shall receive.

Enjoy!

. . .

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟑,𝟖𝟎𝟗 𝐍𝐨 𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐑𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 - 𝓼𝓸 ��𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓲𝓼 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮… | 𝓬𝓲𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓵𝓵𝓪

. . .

The scent of bitter steamed coffee beans brought great relief to the pent-up radio host as he silently poured himself a cup with a content, close-lipped smile.

Pushing his glasses up his nose, Alastor looked out the window to catch an eyeful of the radiant sunrise that had graced the horizon and streamed curves of sunlight into his manor, basking it in a feverish crimson glow that faded into a brilliant vermillion.

Fingernails rapped against the cold marble counter as he took a sip, rejuvenating himself into the chatterbox of a radio host that he usually was. As he hummed along to a little tune in his mind, Alastor allowed his thoughts to silently drift away from reality as he pictured the lovely little dame sleeping the morning away just a door away from his own room.

You had done something to him, and despite his persistent Cheshire grin, madness and uncertainty lurked beneath his charming expression that won the crowds over wherever he went.

He couldn’t help it. You were just so unbothered, which bothered him to no end.

The problem was, you just didn’t care about how renowned nor how respected he was not only as a radio star, but also a man. You were normally quite modest, as was the custom for his time, but had no issue with sticking it to disrespectful scum that dared to cross you, and by extension, him.

Though, he supposed he didn’t mind it as much as it used to. It had irked him when you had first met, when you treated him as an old friend you met on the schoolyard rather than an esteemed man of his time, your clear superior in every facet.

But now, after all the evenings spent dancing the twilight away, soft-spoken poetry beside the fire, and spending sleepless nights tossing and turning in his bed, with a heat in his lower abdomen and a sudden urge to visit your chambers in the middle of the night...

The mere thought of you was becoming unbearable, yet a Godsent blessing all the same.

Alastor took another long, slow sip of coffee and turned his attention to the radio just left of him. It was an old thing his mother bought for him when she found out about his new job as a host at the radio station; she was ecstatic, to say the least, handing him the antique with tears in her large, brown eyes as she wept with happiness at her son’s success.

Suddenly, the sound of a door opening and closing and footsteps bounding down the stairs brought Alastor’s attention to the staircase that led into the foyer.

“Good morning~!” Ah, that voice. That buttered, dulcet harmony he wished to soak in every second of the day, the one that made his heart pound uncontrollably and his mind race with hazy, sappy pictures of him and his little darling.

He didn’t know what his life would’ve been like without you, and he honestly didn’t want to.

You bounced into the kitchen with fervor, rocking on the heels of your feet as you scooted next to him and poured yourself a cup of coffee.

“Good morning, my dear! How was your night?” Alastor subconsciously leaned forward to get closer to you, memorizing every freckle and acne scar on your face and enjoying the soft pink that tinged your cheeks.

“As good as eva’!” You blessed him with a delighted smile as you took a sip, before eyeing his strong cup of black coffee with a look of judgment.

Your nose scrunched up in that cute little pout that entertained Alastor so, making him want to reach up and smooth out the small infliction on your face with his thumb.

Alastor pushed that intrusive – but not unwanted – thought away as you side-eyed him carefully.

“Hm, whatever wakes you up. Now, come on! You promised me an outing yesterday!” With a teasing elbow to his side and a beam that could rival the Sun’s glowing rays, you were already waiting for him by the front door, and he realized you had been wearing the ivory sundress he bought for you a few days ago when he took you out on the town to celebrate your first day living in his home.

With a soft tsk, Alastor took your woolen winter jacket off of the antlers of the stately coat rack beside the front door, sliding it over your arms while shaking his head.

"Wouldn't want you freezing out there, darling," you rolled your eyes and shifted the wooly jacket on your shoulders, marching towards the front door with your nose in the air.

"You worry too much! I'd have been fine without it. It'll be spring soon, anyway." Alastor raised an eyebrow.

He had to stifle the urge to point out that it'd be two months to March, and it rained incessantly during the months of spring, lest he want to miss the reservation and sit there all morning arguing over the temperature.

“Careful, now. Perhaps I should cut you off the caffeine,” Alastor chuckled and graciously opened the door for you like the gentleman he was.

“Haha! Aw, you’re so funny! Cut me off and I’ll cut off your arm,” you replied sweetly without missing a beat.

Alastor simply laughed, undeterred in the slightest by your unusual humor. He had grown quite fond of it in the past few months, though he was absolutely floored by it the first time you made a joke like that.

At least, he thought it was a joke. You were quite irritable when sleep-deprived, to his amusement and your disdain.

Besides, the thought of you? Cutting him up? Such an absurd, comical notion only served to make him laugh harder.

With a giggle, you stepped over the threshold and nodded gratefully at Alastor, who smiled back and joined you on the rocky path through the marshy forest that grew around his home.

Subconsciously, you reached for Alastor’s already offered arm without even looking, and he could’ve swooned at how you instinctively held him. Touched him.

A comfortable silence settled between you two as you strolled through the dewy thicket, content to simply be in one another’s company while Alastor snuck subtle glances at his excitable little darling that strode next to him at a steady pace.

Large, curious eyes gaped at everything around you as if you’d never seen a tree before. An adorable sight, he figured, one that convinced him that keeping you around for just a bit longer couldn’t hurt, and Alastor did not wish to hurt you.

How silly, that a mere expression from his cute little doll could make him melt under its warmth akin to the sweltering summer Sun in the middle of July. He was practically a slave to it.

Alastor realized he had been outright staring at you, and he silently cursed himself as he quickly turned his gaze away.

The morning chorus composed of waking songbirds and rising cicadas filled the content quiet as you took a closer step out of the forest and towards the city. You resisted the temptation to relax your head against Alastor’s arm, to get just a little closer to him, though every glimpse of the young, chipper radio host weakened your resolve further.

How could it not? He was the perfect gentleman in your eyes, polished and refined to the highest caliber. Sweet and charming, and he clearly detested laying a malicious or unwanted hand on any woman. And boy, could the man cook!

It was clear to you which parent was more present in his life, but you made no comment on it in the months that you had known him. You didn’t wish to brush up upon such a sensitive subject, especially since you were quite similar to him in that aspect. If anyone brought up your loving mother, who tried to provide every advantage she could offer to her little girl, you would’ve broken down in tears, years of bottled-up emotions overflowing your tired, overworked heart.

But then Alastor came along and helped you up, making your head spin and your world turn upside-down. He gave you stability, comfort, everything your mother hoped you would one day find in a husband.

The cheeky, mischievous, dapper, handsome, goddamned bastard.

You sighed with a smile, forlorn but hiding against a mask of demureness.

“It’s beautiful here.”

“It truly is.” Alastor observed the thick, swamp-like forest with a fond smile, before his eyes landed on you. His darling, his little blessing, his diamond in the rough. These feelings... perhaps they wouldn’t be so bad, after all. They could bring about something new, a slight change in routine that he had long since needed, but never discovered.

Not until his doll stumbled into his life.

Alastor’s carefree smile brought you a great giddiness that bubbled deep within your chest and rose to warm your cheeks. Here we go again.

Nervously, you peeked up at your handsome, ever-smiling escort, trying not to completely fangirl like a child at how close you both were as the marshy path turned into a stark-black road covered in rubble and pebbles.

“Al?”

“Hm?”

“Where are you taking me?”

Alastor’s smile seemed to grow even wider at your confusion. “Oh, you’ll see, my dear~.”

You huffed and pouted, turning your head away from him so he couldn’t spot your blush. God, why did he have to call you that, standing in the pure, radiant sunlight and looking so perfect and handsome and kissable-?

“We’re here!” You hadn’t even realized how long you had been walking as you found yourself in front of a quaint little diner that you had been eyeing for quite some time.

And, of course, Alastor noticed. He knew everything about you. What kind of gentleman would he be if he didn’t pay the utmost attention to his darling?

As Alastor opened the door for you and stepped inside behind you, he reveled in the small gasp you let out, as well as your mouth falling slightly agape so that he had to close it with a single, slim finger.

"You don't want to catch flies, my dear~.” You blushed and nodded as you continued to look around in awe.

The diner was quite vintage by today’s standards, and as such, it held the intimate charm that no other restaurant could seem to replicate. There was even a little corner selling small bobs and trinkets, antique ornaments and a small, dusty wooden music box with faded paint engraved in the sides.

Like a cozy, nostalgic retreat, the restaurant gave you the sense of a home. A home that your mother never built for you, as she preferred to teach you to survive in this cruel world. But she did her best, didn’t she? She tried, didn’t she?

You oppressed those thoughts as you bounced on your heels in front of the desk, where Alastor was making his reservation.

Of course, he planned this.

You could probably shack up in that diner and it would feel like it was any other visit to your grandmother’s house, you figured as you subconsciously gripped Alastor’s arm even tighter with stars in your eyes.

While you were bouncing on your heels like a child, smiling and gushing contently at everything you could possibly lay your eyes on in the small corner restaurant, Alastor was making sharp eye contact with the busboy who leaned attentively over the counter, trying to get a better look at the pretty young flower who wandered into his view like a naive doe.

Alastor didn’t like that look, to say the least.

He knew it all too well. The kind of darkened, sinister expression that only a predator could wear.

He brought a slender hand carefully around your shoulder and pulled you close, making you squeak and look up at him with wide eyes.

Alastor ignored your confusion in favor of pulling you tightly into him, and the young man scowled slightly before snatching two menus off the counter and leading you both towards a cozy little table tucked into the very back of the restaurant.

Small string bulbs hung above you, basking the table in a warm halo of light as you sat down, and you began ordering your drinks.

"A glass of water will do," Alastor didn't take his eyes off you since you sat down, enjoying how the flickering candle lit up your face and made your eyes seem illuminated in the dim light.

"And you, Ma'am?"

"Just some orange juice, please," you smiled politely as the busboy scribbled down your orders and left the both of you in silence.

After a while of admiring the scenery of the restaurant for the hundredth time, you finally turned back to Alastor and folded your hands in your lap. "Thank you for taking me here, Al'. It’s really nice here!”

"Anything for you, my dear!" Alastor rested his chin on intertwined hands, leaning forward until he was only a foot away from you.

A sly Cheshire smile curled the slim tips of his lips upward. "How are you finding things here, darling? I do hope I have been of favorable company~..."

You waved him away with a roll of your eyes, "Oh, please, you know I love it here. I couldn't imagine leaving now..." you trailed off softly, thinking about how you up and dropped everything for some guy.

Then again, he wasn't just some stupid fling that you wanted to leech off of. You genuinely enjoyed Alastor's energetic, yet suave nature, his spirited presence, his voice...

God, you sounded like a lovesick teenager.

"So, about your radio show..."

Alastor immediately perked up, his eyes flickering from your lips to your eyes.

"Hm? What about it, my dear?"

You clenched and unclenched your fists as you worked yourself up to ask. "C-Could I watch you?" You nearly slapped yourself for your wording, convinced that he could see the blush instantly spreading across your face, even in the dim lighting.

Alastor raised his eyebrows as he blinked in surprise, his smile - just for a millisecond - faltering slightly in uncertainty as the gears turned in his head.

Shaking off his surprise, Alastor grinned widely at your flustered expression as your fists bunched up your beautiful sundress in frustration, your eyes looking at everything but him as you all but twiddled your fingers as he asked for you to draw out the question.

"I mean, could I uh... Listen to you? L-Like in person?" You looked about ready to hurl yourself out the window as Alastor tried to make himself look as if he was thinking about it, when in reality his mind was going ninety miles a minute.

The sadistic, yet ever-adoring part of him thought that seeing your cute little face all flushed and abashed with embarrassment had to be the highlight of this day. Another part of him swelled with pride that you wanted to make a little visit to him in his recording booth.

Then again, you both had been working at the same studio for a while, and what's an hour off of work for his lovely little Doll? You deserved it for working so hard, after all!

Before Alastor could come up with a response, however, the waiter butted himself right into your very riveting conversation that he had absolutely no authority to interrupt.

"Here you go, one water for you, and one orange juice for the stunning little lady," he flashed you a wide grin and took out his notepad and pen.

You both hesitantly ordered, before Alastor answered your question with a strained smile.

"Why, of course you may, darling! I'd be honored to have my favorite listener see one of my broadcasts up close," Alastor leaned back with a carefree grin and a sip of water, enjoying how elated you seemed at the thought of spending a simple broadcast session with him. Then again, he supposed anyone would be falling to their knees at the opportunity, but the fact that it was you made the feeling all the more palpable.

When the food arrived, you both ate and conversed, with you bursting at the seams with excitement at the possibility of visiting Alastor while he hosted his radio broadcast, and his mind conjuring very work-inappropriate outfits he could choose to make you wear, claiming you'd look stunning in all of them.

"Oh, but I really couldn't wear this... I mean look at it!"

"But you'd look just dazzling in this, my Doe, I just know it! You wouldn't want to disappoint me, would you~?"

"I suppose not, Sir..."

Alastor could imagine your timid, adorable little face tinged with pink as you handed him his morning coffee just how he liked it - dark as his soul - in a tight little pencil skirt and a form-fitting chiffon blouse.

His eyes drifted elsewhere around your form as he envisioned your skirt riding up those supple hips of yours as you nervously rubbed up against him as he took his favorite knife, slicing off each one, his predatory smile growing with each pop.

Soon, the sun had fully risen above the horizon, a luminous, pale light tinged with yellow basking the forest in captivating morning light. With a single glance down at his watch, Alastor’s brows rose when he realized you’d spent nearly an hour at the diner.

“Oh, dear! It seems we’ve lost track of time,” he rose from his seat and offered you a hand to pull you along with him.

“Let me pay this time,” but Alastor held out a hand before you could do the great disservice of paying for your food as he threw your waiter a fifty-dollar bill and headed for the exit, excitement lacing his every step as he pushed you out of the restaurant. The earlier for his radio show, the better!

You tried to open the door for Alastor this time, but he smoothly slipped in behind you and twisted the knob, smiling even wider when you slapped him playfully on the shoulder.

"After you, my dear~," he grinned with a mischievous glint dancing within his honey-brown eyes.

"Thanks, Al’." you grinned up at him before turning to wave at the man who served you at the counter.

"Have a good one, beautiful," your waiter gave you a flirtatious wink, and you were too stunned at his forwardness to respond as Alastor practically forced you out of the diner with a peeved smile that dipped slightly into a scowl.

"Well, he was quite friendly, wasn't he?" You nearly snorted at Alastor's obvious bad mood, having never seen him so irked before.

"Oh, don't tell me you're jealous~?" It was your turn to tease the ever-grinning radio host as he spun towards you so fast your own head spun.

"How dare you accuse me of such a thing!" He sounded almost offended as he huffed and crossed his arms with nose in the air. Drama queen...

"Well, you were quite friendly with him," you muttered sarcastically, before squinting up at him in the sunlight with a furrowed brow. "And what was with grabbing me like that, right in front of the poor guy?"

"He was... ogling you, darling. I couldn't stand for such disrespect to my friend, especially on our lovely outing this morning!"

You gaped at him incredulously, "I remember no such thing! Perhaps you're seeing things, or you just wanted an excuse to hold me~," you were surprised to see a tinge of blush coat Alastor's cheeks, just a small spot of it before it quickly faded.

"This is why I don't like it when you drink coffee, my dear! You're too disagreeable," his lips jutted out in a soft pout, and his eyes remained solely on the road as his hand tightened on your shoulder, but he couldn't keep his frown for long as you started laughing at him.

Your chiming laughter ended abruptly with a gasp when a rough hand tugged on your wrist. Looking back, you saw your waiter with sweat sheening his face, his hair messy from clearly running the entire way outside to catch up to you and Alastor.

"H-Hello...?"

"Hey, there, *ahem*, I, uh, I was thinking about asking you if you wanted to go out with me, sometime?"

You blinked several times, processing his question before straining a polite smile and pulling your wrist away, but the young man wasn't budging.

"No thank you, sir, I'd rather walk with my friend now, as we both have places to be." The waiter didn't let up, pure desperation reflected in his eyes as he leaned towards you, and you recoiled from the stink of sweat and the uncomfortable heat that radiated off of him.

"Aw, c'mon, I promise we won't be long!"

"Excuse you, but I-!"

"Thank you for the kind offer, but my darling and I are about to go on a little stroll, so if you could kindly take your hands off of her..." Alastor laid his near bone-crushing grip upon the busboy's arm, ready to pry his hand off of you if necessary.

Perhaps I'll pry an arm off while I'm at it...

"I wasn't talkin' to you, Sticks."

"Hands. Off." Alastor's voice cut through the air like a sharpened butcher knife. It was the first time that you had ever witnessed the radio host's everlasting simper curl into a sneer, as his lips rose just enough above his gums in clear displeasure.

And could he be blamed for it? It was enough to make his temper froth and burst beneath the surface at seeing such rotten, unworthy vermin think to lay a single finger on you. He was doing the public a service, getting rid of it.

"G-Get off me! Fuckin' freak-"

"As soon as you let go of the lady and apologize." Alastor retorted calmy with the waiter's wrist trapped in his tightening vice grip.

"I-It's fine, Alastor. Let him go," nervously you tugged on his rolled-up shirtsleeve, but when that didn't work, you squeezed his shoulder, and he whipped his head around to you so fast you thought you were going to get whiplash.

"Let's go home, Al... Please?" Once again, he fell completely under the mercy of your wide, worried eyes, of you touching him. And willingly, that was. Alastor didn't need to beg, nor force himself upon you for attention.

Such an obvious fact had him preening with pride, and obviously had the insignificant worm dripping with envy as Alastor smirked down at the busboy.

"Alastor...?"

Snapping out of his little bout of victory, Alastor didn't need any further persuasion as he ripped the poor man's hand off of yours with an uncharacteristically phony smile. You then noticed, with a slight shiver up your spine, how alarmingly sharp his teeth seemed when they were bared like that.

"If you insist, my dear."

Alastor wrapped a slender hand around your shoulder and pushed you around towards the path where preserved red brick melded into a rocky dirt road as you tried to ignore the pained groans of that pesky little street rat behind you.

Your walk back was spent in complete silence yet again, but now rather than a comfortable, mutual quiet, a tense atmosphere filled the air.

The pastels of imminent dawn had fully faded when you both arrived at the house, and, ever the gentleman, Alastor kindly opened the door for you with a polite simper, and you shyly nodded in return before stepping inside.

"Alastor, I..."

"I'm sorry you had to see me like that, my dear. Truly, I..."

He sighed and clenched the gold-colored doorknob within his fist as he closed the front door behind him, "I hate seeing such disrespect to those of fairer means."

You smiled softly. Oh, his mother raised him well, didn't she? "Well, thank you for protecting me. I just can't stand men like that, y'know? Nice to know we have a couple of good ones out there."

"I just don't want to think about what I would've done if I were alone," the radio host immediately sensed your unease as you rubbed your arms nervously.

"Don't worry, darling. I won't ever let anyone hurt you." Alastor murmured with a gentle hand on your cheek. He'd be sure to never allow you outside without his supervision, not with yahoos like that idiotic scumbag running about.

Your nervous smile melted into a small, grateful simper as you nodded and let him tussle your hair softly before patting the small of your back and pushing you upstairs.

"Now, we have a lovely day ahead of ourselves, so go and get ready, so we can get to the studio in time." Looking down at his watch again, Alastor noted that it was now 8:06 in the morning, and his radio show began at 9:00 A.M. on the weekdays.

Alastor simpered to himself as morning light streamed across his face, casting shadows over his eyes and lips while he could only imagine the awe, you'd watch him with.

Alastor had an hour to truly captivate you, capture you with only your attention.

And soon, even that wouldn't be enough.

He'd need to bind you to him, tie you to him heart, body, and soul.

. . .

𝐄𝐧𝐝 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: Wow, that was a long one. Don't worry, I'm working on making the next chapter a lot shorter, but I had a lot of ideas stewing and I needed to put them somewhere.

I might consider uploading this to A03, if I find a way to dispel the infamous A03 Writer's Curse, so let me know if ya'll would read it on that platform, since I haven't posted anything on that website for a while now.

Thank you for reading! ৻(≧ᗜ≦৻)

. . .

➺ 𝑩𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝑪𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝑩𝒚 @cafekitsune - 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫!

#alastor x reader #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #reader insert #fluff #obsession #possessive behavior #why am i using these hashtags like a03 tags lmao #yandere alastor x reader #yourdoorisunlocked

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 6 months

Text

LITTLE DEATHS (IX)

NAVIGATION || RAVISHING ALLURE MASTERLIST || NEXT: CHAPTER X

PAIRING: Nikto x F!Reader (Soulmate AU)

WORDCOUNT: 3.9k

WARNINGS: Angst, stalking behavior, very dark/toxic modeling standards/expectations, body image issues, food issues, scar descriptions, mentions of past intimacy, hurt/comfort, soft!Nikto, etc. (Series 18+)

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You wake up the next morning in the silk sheets of your hotel bedroom, in nothing but an oversized shirt and underwear. Your mind is sluggish and, between flashes of electricity up your thighs, the entire night comes back in slow images as you groan into the pillow.

A quick rush of a coat to cover ripped laces, the scream of sirens, Nikto arguing with authorities before you’re both released.

It was a play of luck that you explained away the snapped wrist as a simple instance of Nikto being some white knight—he’d kept you safe, you’d said. The host had been forcing himself on you; it could be seen on the cameras. Paired with his service record and a call from your investigators, they’d let you go without any further trouble.

Today, the small headache from the champagne was only a dull sting in the back of your skull; you hadn’t been drunk—hadn’t gotten to that point, anyway.

Eyes starting at the far wall, a heat builds and builds on your face as the minutes pass.

“Did we really…” you trail off in a whisper, hand coming up to your face as you roll onto your back and stifle a loud sound of exasperation, lips mouthing out, “Fuck.”

Nikto had left you shaking on his fingers in a damn storage room. Twice.

Your lips thin, legs caught in the sheets. You weren’t even awake enough to understand the potential consequences—not only the intimate encounter, but the repercussions of not sleeping with Oriel would be swift and fierce.

Never mind the broken bone.

The sharp knife of that moment is a deadly thing, it digs deep into you until your eyes are watering. That desperation in the storage room—the things you said were true. You’d silenced your phone last night because you knew the reaction would be instant; undeniable. Even now, you shift over and slide your hand over it on the side table, only to pause and take a deep breath before turning it on.

A sudden barrage of missed calls and texts slam into your ears before you slap the device back down and turn it off with fast fingers.

Your eyes close tightly, flopping back down and covering your eyes. It was instinctual the way your heart started running from you—the fear seeping back in.

They’re going to fire me, you think, hands shaking. They’re going to throw me out.

Through the heavy understanding, through the ideas you have to try and salvage this, you pause only when something makes your nose twitch. Hesitating, your hands slip from your face slowly, eyelids peeling back a millimeter at a time. Staring at the gray ceiling, your brows pull back to their normal resting point as your face goes blank.

What is that? Palms going to the mattress, you sit up slowly and sniff. It was dough, maybe? Something sweet and toasted.

Shifting, your feet connect with the cold floor, and you stand with a grunt, a tiny ache in the middle of your abdomen that makes your face heat and your hands rub at the back of your neck. A part of you was nervous more about what was outside of your door than what was in your phone—Nikto.

How would this go? Would he ignore the entire thing? Ignore you?

“He doesn’t run from things,” you mutter aloud, walking and stepping on the torn laces of your dress at the foot of the bed. Your hands grasp one of the bags in your room, not caring to check the rest of the contents before you sift through and drag out a pair of dark sweatpants.

Moving into them, the waistband is large, just as the legs are, but you’re too preoccupied to understand the way you’ve slipped into Nikto’s pants before you’re already at the door. Hands shaking over the handle, your fingers run the smooth metal before you shake your head and huff.

Walking out, the scent of fresh pancakes makes itself known as you blink at the scene in front of you. Trying to understand if you were actually awake, or if this was still some dream in the airyness of your mind. The stuttering of your heart feels real.

Nikto was shirtless.

Shirtless, making breakfast.

Your mouth is somewhat agape as you stare, struck down to a statue in the doorway as your eyelids flutter. Again, that bear tattoo writhes as the expansive muscle moves and twitches with work—Nikto’s front facing the pan that he works a spatula through. All of the ingredients are left on the counter, bought by him or already in the luxurious cabinets for your pleasure, you don’t know; flour, milk, among the others. Jams and honey.

You don’t know how long you stand there, fighting between your desire to run your hands over his bare skin and the respectful sense you know you need to keep. It’s enough time for him to slap one more scoop of dough into the sizzling pan and pass the done pancake to the side where one more rests, steaming.

You hadn’t thought your words meant that much to him.

Clearing your throat in shock, you see him glance over his shoulder swiftly. A bead of silence.

“Come. Eat,” is what he says—no emotion heard in the voice, though you didn’t expect anything less. His pale eyes dart down you, and after a small break in the air, he chuckles. “Thief, yes?”

“What?” Your brows crease. “I didn’t…” You look down and pause. It was fairly obvious that the pants didn’t belong to you. Your lips flattened, and your eyes flinched closed in embarrassment. “I must have gone through the wrong bag.”

Turning back, you hear a call from the Russian before you can disappear like a dog with its tail between its legs.

“I don’t wear them. I do not mind.” There's low electricity in the air. He doesn’t know how to go about this either.

Sighing, you shrug and nod, shifting back so you can walk to the kitchen counter and stuff your hands into your pockets. Leaning your hip to the corner, you fight the clamminess of your hands. The sweatpants pool at your ankles as your mouth opens.

“Pancakes?” You ask lowly, glancing at him.

He’s still in that balaclava, and his cargos are loose around his hips before being stuffed into dark boots that you’d never see him without.

“With jam,” Nikto grunts. “You will like them.”

You push out a tiny laugh. “I’ve had pancakes before, Nikto. I’m pretty sure most people have.”

“How would we know, hm?” Pale eyes narrow on yours, but it isn’t hostile. Nikto grumbles, moving the pan before he motions with a finger. “Those are done.”

You glance over at the pile and sigh, taking the plate with the two already done pancakes on it and padding over to grab the jam. Your eyes move down the label to find out which one it exactly is—gray isn’t exactly a large help—and open the sealed top with a tiny release of pressure.

Getting fat.

You pause, one hand holding the top and the other the glass jar; eyes blank, you stare at the plate with a steadily sinking heart. Clearing your throat, you move a hand and twist the top back on, placing the jam down and shifting to grab a fork instead.

“Do you think that the investigators will call with any updates—”

“Eat,” Nikto interrupts firmly from behind, back to back.

Your face is tight, fingers tapping the counter. There’s a tension of something between you two, but you can’t name it. Not yet. But it’s there, like a blade cutting through a corset, it’s there. It’s what got you out of bed today, it’s what got Nikto to push himself to sleep shirtless for the first time in years. The possibility of…something. Unseen, you nod and take the food—moving away from the kitchen and sitting down on the couch, you carefully dig into breakfast and shift a dry forkful into your mouth.

Eyes closed, your head slightly bows forward as you chew.

It was no secret that you were quiet today, and Nikto didn’t have to be as sharp-eyed as he was to notice. By now you would have teased him about the effort for the food, or even spoken about the mattress you slept on, Nikto had hypothesized. But it was just…silent.

Nothing.

In the kitchen, the Russian’s brows crease, lips pulling. He huffs, rolling his shoulders as his bones crack.

He’d been up last night—for a long while—doing all the things he said he would until he had the clarity to understand hours later, that everything was a million times more complicated now that he knew the truth about this ‘trip’.

And he had to know all of it.

Nikto, truth be told, was a bit quiet himself; more than he usually was. He continued with breakfast in silence, listening to the sound of your fork tapping the plate as his brain fought with itself. The Russian’s mind told him to act like that hadn’t happened between the two of you—it was unprofessional, wrong down to the core. You were his charge, and he hadn’t hesitated for more than a second before he’d ripped open your dress and played with you like you were his own.

Why? Why was he so enamored by you? It didn’t make any sense. No one had ever mattered this much to him—it was absurd.

But whatever dead part of his heart that had come back to beat again said that ignoring this would be cruel to you; if all others in your life were, that was one thing he would not be. At least to you.

Nikto grunts under his breath and grabs his plate, stacked with six pancakes, before turning, grasping the jam with firm fingers, and heaping it on top. Blinking across to you, he pauses at your closed eyes—the dip of your head. Not only was there still food on your plate but it was set down on the coffee table, resting stationary.

You couldn’t possibly be done already.

“Not good?” He asks, voice gruff.

You shake your head. “No, Nikto, they were perfect. I’m just not that hungry this morning.” Pale blue eyes stare, blinking slowly.

He didn’t know what to do.

Looking down at his breakfast, Nikto clenches his jaw. Grasping his plate and his utensil he walks over before he sits beside you, sinking the cushions and shuffling aside the blanket he’d had last night. When you look over at him, confused, he doesn’t utter a word, before his free hand sneaks up and hooks under his balaclava.

It’s a moment, he knows, a moment of hesitation that instinctually tightens his muscles, stopping him with a shake of his fingers. And then, as he usually does, he forces himself through it.

Slipping the fabric up to his nose, you stare openly at the strong jaw that comes to light, as well as the unspoken horror of scars. It isn’t even a minute before the Russian leans back with a grunt, and spreads his feet until his knee knocks yours before he shoves the first of his pancakes into his mouth with muffled chewing.

Eyes darting away, you stare at your own feet tightly.

Silence settles.

“You don’t have to do that,” you whisper.

“Да,” his words are grumbled, even if you can’t see it, his face is beginning to burn. Heavy memories coming back. He won’t stay long like this—he can’t. It hurts. “I do not.”

You sigh, hands moving up to rub along your face, cupping at it until all the whiteness of the hotel is hidden from your gaze. It wasn’t hard to feel him passing glances.

Shaking your head, your hands fall, and you move to mirror his own position—back leaning and legs kicking out, except yours go to rest on the table next to your plate.

“I think a part of me didn’t expect you to actually be here,” you say, not looking at him. “I’m not used to having to deal with…” your lips halt themselves, looking for words. “After.”

No one ever stayed. Not anyone that mattered.

Nikto’s clinking fork pauses, stuttering on its course. He licks his lips, tasting the sweetness of jam. He continues to watch you as you continue on beside him, bare skin brushing—those large biceps caressing yours.

“I don’t want things to be awkward. If you can’t do your job without something feeling off anymore, I would understand if you wanted to leave. I’m sure my mother can get another operator from KorTac to take me on, she already had two from before that might still be available. I know last night was a lot. I don’t want you to feel…pressured, I guess. That was never my intention.”

He lets you finish, sensing you need to get some things off of your chest. When had he become so soft to this? To you? He was losing his backbone here—losing that edge that kept him…him.

Or was that ever him in the first place?

“I will not leave,” Nikto speaks slowly, lips moving every scar that lives there. “We are not ‘feeling off’. No one will look after you like us, and so no one will take our place until this stalker is either taken away or in ground.”

“And the awkward part?” You ask, glancing over, getting caught by long cuts and fissures.

“We will deal,” Nikto’s chest rumbles, and you believe falling asleep to that sound would stop your nightmares altogether. “There are worse things than that, yes?”

You huff a laugh. “I guess.” A second later, you lightly bump your elbow into his side. “You’re better at this kind of stuff than I’d thought you’d be.”

Dark brows furrow.

“I am speaking truth. Nothing more.”

“Mhm,” your lips carefully peel in a tiny smile. “Sure, Big Guy.”

Nikto scoffs, rolling his eyes before he takes down more of his breakfast. He glances over to see you peeking at his old insignia tattoo—the one on his shoulder. It was strange to him, how you took so much more interest in his ink than the scars; he’d been thinking about it last night.

It was against your nature to not ask about them, and yet…you had. No one had ever not asked about the scars. But, hm, Nikto’s eyes shimmer, it only made his chest swell when you chose not to. As if you understood the sanctity of them—the importance.

That was something that he just wasn’t ready to speak about yet.

“You like it?” He speaks.

You blink quickly, looking back up in an instant. There was no use hiding it.

“What is it?” You ask him, glancing back down at the tattoo and tilting your head at it.

The image was of some sort of crest—a two-headed bird wearing crowns; holding items in their claws with a, smaller, image set into the middle. A man on horseback, spearing a dragon.

“FSB crest.” Nikto’s voice goes lower, more under the breath than previously. “Reminder of service.”

“Oh,” you mutter. “What are the colors?”

He hums. “Red, gold. Little silver. Mine is just black ink, though. Did not go back for second session.”

“I’ve thought of getting tattoos before,” you confess, moving out a slow hand to trace the outline in his flesh. You notice him still somewhat at your dragging nails, lips parting softly. “AMA would never go for it, but I’ve still wondered what it would be like.”

Nikto licks his lips, letting you feel him as he side-eyes you. His muscles soften as your heat seeps in, tingling blood under his epidermis.

“What kind?”

“A bird, I suppose,” you hum. “I think they’re lovely.”

Nikto tilts his head, but the questions can no longer sit in the back of his throat. “You continue to be their pawn. Why? I can make no sense of it, Seraph. You speak of yourself as if you are nothing.”

“I might not be anymore after last night,” you whisper, dropping your hand from Nikto’s flesh. Your eyes close; a heavy sigh on your lips. “I know it isn’t healthy, I know that. I know it’s wrong, and vile, and disgusting—but you have to hear me out when I tell you that the only thing I have is my looks—”

“That is a lie.” Nikto snarls, glaring over at your face as his plate hits the table. “Why do you say that? You are smart, Seraph, anyone with sense can see it. You are kind; good.” The Russian curses, repeating. “You are good.”

“AMA needs investments,” your voice is muffled. “I’m not the only one that has to do things like this. I’m not special.”

The man grinds out, “It does not matter if a million go through it—you are here with us. It is our job to keep you safe now. It is special to me.”

“From a stalker,” you argue, body starting to go rigid at the intensity of the conversation. You didn’t like talking about this.

“From any threat,” Nikto barks. Face close to yours and his hard, crooked nose brushing skin. “Is this not a threat to you?”

You stare into his eyes, and it’s an expression he can’t recall you having. It makes him nervous—nervous for you in a way that was similar to when you’d disappeared from his sight. It was dead. Dead how his eyes would get on the bad days—when he couldn’t differentiate between himself and his body; what had really happened and what hadn’t.

You were exhausted, and you didn’t even see it.

“You need sleep,” he drops the hard tone immediately, eyes snapping over your face in fast jerks. “You need rest. Now.”

“I’m not tired.” Pale eyes bore through you, and you relent softly. “...I don’t want any more nightmares.” Your lips open and close. “They scare me because I can’t remember them, but I know something bad happened.”

Fingers come up and brush your cheek, leaving your lips flattening before the tears can make themselves known to him.

There was just so much going on.

The stalker, now AMA and potential repercussions? You thought if you had one thing, you had your job—trials and exploitations all, but you still had that. You still had something. Now you might not even have a home to go back to.

Bare arms shift, looping around you. With a roaming of skin on skin, Nikto bundles you in his arms and lifts, legs taking your weight. He moves you as your head rests burrowed into his neck—forehead to the long cut that loops around the side of his throat to the front. That one really made you shiver; the thought of it—the error he must have felt. Without thinking, you lay a tiny kiss on the skin, and Nikto’s legs only stutter once before he pushes open the bedroom door.

Setting you down on the bed, he mumbles into your scalp before he pulls away, moving his balaclava back down with firm fingers. “What can I do?”

Your body shifts, clothed in borrowed pants and the weight of a million realities. You wished you could see the color of his eyes—those creased things that watch you so closely; the marring of the different shades of his scars.

You wished you could pick up the courage to ask him if you were his soulmate, at the very least. The hunch was dimming, taking a backburner the longer it stayed in your mind. Surely he would say something by now? Right? With how he was, you expected Nikto to be reserved about it, but now…

Now your hope was drowning itself.

You wished you weren’t damaged goods.

“Sit with me?” Your weak voice quivers, but no tears fall.

Nikto stares, head tilting slowly as his now re-hidden face is a mystery. “Да. Yes.” It’s so tiny that the words are almost lost.

So, he shifts into bed after placing his boots neatly near the bedframe, letting you scoot over as he grasps the end of the covers and moves to have his back connected to the headboard. With a large pull, the fabric slides over your body and levels at his abdomen, your head slightly above it, until scarred fingers grasp and push it down a bit.

For a bit, a heavy silence settles between the two of you. You don’t touch, you don’t talk. It’s the sound of beating hearts and rabid minds, thinking over thoughts that only serve to make things worse the longer their dark fingers are around both of your throats.

“Come,” Nikto murmurs.

Your body instantly connects to his, hands grasping into his pants and head nuzzling his thigh. His grip finds your head, running itself over it until it ends at your shoulder and pulls you tighter to him.

“Sleep. No nightmares, hm?” He glances down, trying to push a fractured joke. “We will scare them off.”

Your broken chuckle makes his chest tighten, and pale eyes avoid looking down at you for fear he’ll realize how addictive it is to have your flesh on his—the sensation of touch that was becoming a need. When was the last time he’d been relied on like this? Never, he thinks.

To be protection in the barest sense.

A boy keeping away nightmares for a girl that lays in his lap.

No weapons, no orders. Only hands and sagging bodies, and a care that was infecting him like venom—injected into his bloodstream by white fangs. It leveled out, coating him. He wanted you to be safe, and it wasn’t just because it was his job. It was because he couldn’t imagine seeing you in pain like this—in a slow death of the mind until the body rotted away with it.

It wasn’t right to him, and he couldn’t describe it as anything other than blasphemy. Sacrilege. Nikto didn’t have the words; maybe he never would. All that he knew was that he would kill millions to never see you harmed. He would rot in the deepest part of hell willingly, go through darkness and fire—but none of it could touch you. Not a wisp of flame; not an idea of torture.

You were good.

“Why do you care so much,” you whisper before you fall asleep, curious even as your eyelids are fighting to stay down.

Nikto has not taken his eyes off you. He was always honest, but this truth scares him more than any other. The nagging in the back of his skull.

“I…do not know.”

You were too good for this.

So even when he gets that text message on his phone when you’re fully sleeping, even when he shifts it out of his pocket and sees the unknown number, Nikto is not going to wake you. He’s not going to shake your head as he massages the scar that lives there, his thumb taking in the familiar bumps and dips—the trauma it caused so similar to his own.

Nikto will not tell you of the sinking in his chest.

The guard accepts that little death in his heart when he sees that image of the both of you in the storage room. He accepts the little death when he sees your tightly closed eyes from over his own shoulder, hands digging into his one-size-too-small suit. The obvious actions taking place that are still seared into his mind hours later.

He accepts the little death of the caption, all in Russian but never more vile in his mind.

‘I know what you did.’

And he accepts that this stranger's death will not be so little if he ever gets his hands on him.

TAGS:

@anna-banana27, @random-thot-generator, @midwesternwitchery, @pumpkinwitchcrusade, @halfmoth-halfman, @alpineswinter, @blingblong55, @cryingnotcrying, @lxne20, @not-eclipse, @theecoffeebean, @phoenixhalliwell, @h3ll-guttz, @tiinkerbell, @genjilvr, @azush4rp, @escapefromrealitysm, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @finnigansxz, @cowboybaby2, @delaynew, @doggydale, @zapphir, @littlemisstrouble, @xxtmoe, @grizzersmamma, @andreas-river, @blogdddxx, @jade-jax, @emthegrace, @lovebugmsyd, @makariaspresence, @noisyprofessorhoundsalad-blog, @scythebot, @blueoorchid, @kra-rino4ka, @caramlizedtomatoes, @strawberymilk,@frazie99, @homicidal-slvt, @develised, @crispyhusband, @cathnoneofyourbusiness, @ghostslittlegf, @generalcloudtraveler, @azsteris, @rvjaa, @creminemisinthehizzyforshizzboy, @comsyki

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hunterwritings · 4 months

Text

𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐃 | 𝐁𝐈-𝐇𝐀𝐍

summary: bi-han comes home wounded, trying his best to keep it from you warnings: mention of blood/laceration, stitching notes: i can only think of writing for bi-han rn 😭

You knew that Bi-han was hot-headed, ironically. You knew that he liked to fight and even though he would most likely win, he would still have battle scars.

It was something you expected, but never looked forward to. Bi-han has a problem being vulnerable and asking for help, so whenever he would get injured in battle he would do his best to hide it from you. Sometimes he'd get away with it and you'd eventually find out after the fact, but sometimes he's a bad liar.

It was the middle of the night when Bi-han stumbled into the temple, his brothers at his side. "Please brother, let us-" Tomas began before Bi-han shut him down. "I can deal with my own wounds." He beckons as he pushes them off and begins walking to your bedroom, holding a hand at his side. "He will be fine Tomas, the pain of us helping him would cause more damage than the wound itself." Kuai Liang reassures his younger brother as they turn and return to their own rooms to rest.

A small groan falls from Bi-han's lips as he rips the mask off his face, his teeth grinding together. He swiftly opened the door of your shared bedroom, trying his best to not wake you. As he quietly shuts the door, he turns back to see you sleeping peacefully on your side of the bed. A sigh of relief fell from his mouth at the sight of you, just knowing you were safe was enough to put him at ease.

His eyes darted to the bathroom, thinking that he could make his way there and clean up, while being quiet enough to not wake you. Bi-han would be lying if he said it wasn't difficult with the large wound at his side, but he would rather die than admit that. He took a breath before slowly beginning to walk towards the bathroom, a small wince caught in his teeth as his hand shot to his side.

As if you had super sonic hearing, you tossed in bed and turned your body to face him as your eyes slowly begin to open. Once you saw the shadowy figure in the dark, you quickly sat up. As you realized it was Bi-han, your heart began to relax for a moment. "I didn't think you were going to be so late." You whisper, still half asleep. "We ran into some trouble, it was a quick fight." He bluntly tells you, relieved you weren't able to see his wounded body in the dark. His relief is quickly gone when you reach over and turn on the soft light next to your bed. Your eyes instinctively shut as you held a hand over your eyes and try your best to focus on Bi-han. When your eyes adjust as best they could, you finally noticed the dark red on his blue uniform.

"What happened!?" You ask, now awake and pushing the covers off of your body.

Bi-han just groans before quickly walking into the bathroom. He tries to shut the door on you, but you quickly make your way into the bathroom.

"Are you okay?" You ask with your eyes glued on his wound. "I am fine." He hissed, keeping his gaze away from you. "Clearly not." You said, a bit of anger setting in.

You pushed him back and made him sit down on the edge of the tub. You turned to grab a small bit of bandages and stitching kits from under your counter. You crouched down next to him as he exhaled deeply. His hands reached down and tried to take the needles from you but you pulled your hands away from him.

"Stop." You began to open up the sewing kit. "I can dress my own wounds, go back to sleep." He tries to demand. You look up and give him a sour look before gripping his shirt. "Take it off." You demanded as you pulled up on the upper part of his uniform.

He reluctantly abides, knowing that you are too stubborn to let him do this on his own. Now with his skin exposed, you could see the wound in full. It was a large cut from his upper ribcage down to the side of his lower abdomen. "Bi-han." You breathe out as you touch the skin around the wound, feeling dried blood around it.

"You act as if I am fragile." He snarls, still looking away from you. "I know you are not fragile which is why this is a bit much, but I knw you will be fine." You nod before pouring a bit of alcohol on a rag before dressing his wound. The alcohol on the wound causes Bi-han to wince loudly as he tightly grabs hold of your leg as you stood next to him.

"Do not treat me like a child." He shakes his head, his eyes tightly pressed together. "I am not treating you like a child, I'm treating you like my husband. It is my job to worry about you, to want to help you." You explain, feeling his grip on your leg soften as he finally turns to look at you. "I know you do not want my help even when you need it, but I am always here to provide it. Because I wish for you to be safe and not in pain, just as I hope you'd like that for me." You hold his face in your hands as he looks up at you, his cold demeanor completely faded as soft eyes stare at yours.

"I would freeze the world over to keep you safe."

A soft smile goes across your lips before pressing a sweet kiss to his lips, pulling away and pressing your forehead to his.

Although you interpreted his saying as a metaphor, he meant every single word.

#— hunterwritings #hunterwritings #mk1 #mk1 x reader #mortal kombat #mortal kombat x reader #bi han #bi han x reader #bihan x reader #bi han x you #sub zero #sub zero x reader #sub zero x you

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inuhalfdemon · 2 months

Text

The Chain Game (2/3)

[If anyone knows who I can credit for the above Fanart; PLEASE let me know! This was something sent to me and I haven't been able to track down the artist myself yet...]

Part 2

RadioApple SMUT

Part 1: Here

Part 3: Here

Brainrot into one-shot fanfiction

Rating = 18+

Word Count = 1,726 Words

Ya'll can thank @lily-lilzy-lil for it. She fed me with her kind enthusiasm. Enough so, even that I might already have a part 3 in mind...

“Are we ready for another round?” Lucifer’s voice came from the surrounding darkness.

Alastor hung…kneeling. He was bound tightly by the chains winding across his chest; wrists secured within the links wrapping above his head. The large brimstone shackle was heavy on his neck; the chain to its ring hanging loose and dragging beside him.

“Heh…is that one of the questions?” Alastor smirked, his voice a crackling radio.

A chain slithered from the blackest of shadows; twisting and hissing as it found its way home; curling itself up Alastor’s naked torso and tightening painfully. He hissed as the links burned more brands across his bare, scarred skin.

“Yes.” Lucifer told him, stepping out from concealing shadows. “It was.” He was shirtless – bare-chested – just as Alastor was; his dress pants and shoes the only remnants to the clothing he had been wearing.

Alastor starred at the King’s exposed upper body. The radio demon’s green eyes flared wide – hungry and gleaming – drool seeping from sharpened teeth. The base to each of his antlers thickened; the smooth bone becoming heavy and long as points branched higher and higher above his head.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” Lucifer asked him. “Still rutting I see…”

The demon growled; a low sound intermingling with the sharp sounds of a radio static.

“And, still losing.” Lucifer sighed, another chain slithering past him to lift and strike out just like a snake; catching and winding itself through the ring to the shackle just at the base of Alastor’s throat. The chain jerked and Alastor’s neck was pulled sharply forward.

“You look like you have sobered up, though.” Lucifer told him; approaching carefully. “Tell me, Alastor…now that my ichor has left your system; are you thirsty for more?”

Lucifer flicked clawed fingers; bringing sharp points against his own bare skin, just at the soft bunch of flesh that stretched across one shoulder. Slicing there, gold blood seeped and spilled from the cut; threading down his chest and abdomen.

Alastor snarled in answer; his eyes flaring brighter, antlers growing longer, his hair standing up – sharp and bristled; overwhelmed by his overpowering need.

“Yes…” The radio to his voice nearly screeching. “…your majesty…”

“Well, now.” Lucifer stepped closer. “Honesty and manners this time. A reward for you…I think.”

A chain dropped from Alastor, winding its way back into the dark as the other chains still supporting him shifted and moved. Alastor’s hands were released but the chains encircling his chest and neck were dragging him backward so that when they found their placements; the radio demon was stretched fully on his back; pinned to the ground. He tried to move; trying even to just to be able to prop himself up in order to see what the King was doing; but the chain tightly secured to his shackle held fast.

Alastor’s ears worked nervously. He was starring up into complete darkness; his body tense with the knowledge that Lucifer meant for him to not know what was coming.

When he felt Lucifer’s hands on his legs - moving them so that they were spread easily wide apart - and the King moved between them, Alastor growled. The sound was low and warning; promising a deadly reciprocation to whatever the fallen angel intended; given the chance…

He felt the King moving, climbing over him so that he leaned across and over Alastor’s chest; his hands supporting his weight from either side of Alastor’s head. Lucifer’s wide golden eyes matched Alastor’s flaring bright green ones; a wicked smile spread across the King’s face as he leaned himself closer to Alastor’s face. Baring his sharp teeth and flattening his ears, Alastor fought to lift his head; meaning to bite. The chain restraining his neck tightened and any give that Alastor had found in it before was now lost.

Laughing, Lucifer smiled down at the sinner demon lying just beneath him.

“I promised you your reward. I keep my promises, Alastor.” Lucifer told him, leaning closer so that they were face-to-face; Lucifer only just out of reach from Alastor’s sharp and pointed teeth. Lucifer tilted his head; fully exposing his still-bleeding wound he had opened across his shoulder.

Alastor’s growling choked in his throat; seeing the golden strands tracing down the King’s chest; sparce warm drops falling onto Alastor��s bare skin. The growling had turned into a brief but desperate whine for relief; Alastor’s clawed hands digging into the ground beside him; finding no purchase – claws cutting grooves into the dark floor.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to use that rather useful tongue of yours.” Lucifer was telling him; leaning back just enough to give Alastor the best angle for full access.

Without a moment for hesitation, Alastor’s tongue lashed from between his bared teeth – long and dripping - it lapped at the streams of golden blood. A groan emitted from Alastor; barbs from his tongue pressing roughly against the fallen angel’s skin as he hungrily scraped for every…last…drop.

Alastor’s eyes started glazing over and Lucifer chuckled.

“You’re not a very fast learner…are you.” Lucifer said darkly. It wasn’t a question. Alastor’s tension was gone. Drunk with the angel’s blood; he retreated his tongue – eyes closing as he let his head fall back.

Leaving him to his buzz; Lucifer crawled back down to kneel between Alastor’s long legs. He began working at the radio demon’s dress pants; reaching just behind the seam at the crotch, finding the bulge within and sliding Alastor’s seeping and engorged cock out.

Alastor shuddered; pleasurably. Gasping at the contact.

“You know,” Lucifer said, holding the large penis in his hand. “I, too, can do some pretty…interesting things with my tongue.” His eyes flared; sharply golden. “Shall I…demonstrate?” He asked in a purr.

“Yes.” Alastor was groaning again. “Your Majesty.”

“That’s my deer…” Lucifer told him.

Using his own tongue now, he let it slither from between his teeth. Just as a snake’s, it stretched and flicked itself so that it tortuously skimmed the underside of Alastor’s cock – touching all along the base and shaft underneath then going to flick at the soft skin along his balls.

Alastor was panting. A redness was spreading across his chest and face; a slick sheen of sweat coating his skin.

Lucifer continued to teasingly flick his tongue all along Alastor’s root; occasionally bringing it around to circle the shaft. The muscle there was tightening quickly.

Pausing briefly, Lucifer adjusted his hold on Alastor’s throbbing penis. “Careful, you don’t want to miss out on the best part.” Snaking his tongue out; Lucifer carefully elongated the shape so that the forks lengthened and thinned. Expertly, he directed the tips to the slit at the head of the slick cock; sliding them inside.

Alastor bucked and Lucifer pressed clawed hands into each hip; holding him steady and he worked his tongue so that it slid in further.

“Ah….” Alastor was lost. The stimulation was too incredible. Timing it perfectly, Lucifer snaked his forked-tongue deeper before slowly retreating it back out. Alastor’s body shook. Removing his tongue entirely; Lucifer took Alastor’s cock fully and quickly into his mouth; biting down sharply just as the organ tightened and sprayed cum.

Softly coiling his tongue all along the twitching cock; Lucifer sucked and swallowed before dropping it limp from his mouth.

Lucifer stood up from where he had been kneeling; there, between the radio demon’s legs.

Alastor laid, still panting and gasping. The deep red color his skin had turned was contrasting the brands of chain links in an interesting way. His clawed hands were shaking and he was drenched in sweat now. His body twitched; still feeling the waves of ecstasy crashing over it.

Lucifer laughed; stepping away to loosen his own dress pants now. He paused; then as if deciding something he slipped out of the remaining clothes entirely.

“You certainly know how to take your…licks.” Lucifer said. “If you actually are in the middle of a rut though…it’s you that could do with some mounting. I suppose you’re in enough of a manageable state that I could allow it.”

Lucifer stepped back to where he had left Alastor; still tightly restrained to the floor.

“What say you?” Lucifer asked him; the chains around Alastor coming loose now but never fully leaving him.

Alastor moved slowly. He was dazed; both from the remnants of ichor and the orgasm. Turning, he went to stand up; then thinking better of it he knelt back to the floor; eyes on the King.

“Your majesty…” Alastor knelt; looking up – compliant.

“Good boy.” Turning away from him – fully naked - Lucifer waved a hand and every chain holding Alastor dropped and went away into the dark; every chain save for the one holding to Alastor’s heavy brimstone collar.

Alastor smiled; standing and going to the King; dragging his chain with him.

Stopping to stand just behind Lucifer, Alastor paused; eyes flaring green, his antlers curling and twisting ever upwards.

“You may…regret this.” He said before he sunk the claws of his left hand into the flesh of Lucifer’s left hip; pulling the angel into him and spilling more blood. His right arm wrapped around the King, his clawed fingers finding his face and mouth; shoving them inside. Snarling; he bit deep into the wound at Lucifer’s shoulder; swallowing hard as golden liquid poured out.

“Ahhhhhh…” Lucifer sunk to his knees and Alastor followed him down. His teeth still buried in the fallen angel’s shoulder; he forced the King down on all fours. Lucifer choked on his fingers; golden blood pooling on the ground from his wounds.

Gasping, Alastor released Lucifer’s shoulder. His vision blurred and darkened; the influence of angelic blood mixing with the influence of his rut. He was already hard again; his erection pressing fully into Lucifer’s bare back.

“Now…my King.” Alastor was purring darkly; sliding his fingers from Lucifer’s mouth. “I will gift to you the most fitting of thrones…”

Lucifer gagged; blood and spit running down his chin.

“Do your worst…my deer.”

--‐‐--‐‐-‐--‐----‐---‐----------‐--‐----------------------------------------------------

Alastor jerked awake; déjà vu catching him even in his ‘half-asleep’ state.

“Oh, what the Hell-” Followed by a sleepy yawn. “What fucking time is it?”

The room was pitch black; then a bedside light came on.

“Uh...” Alastor said, shifting awkwardly in the bed.

“AGAIN!?” Lucifer exclaimed loudly.

“Well…” Alastor replied.

“If this keeps happening, you and you’re one-eyed monster are sleeping somewhere else!”

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