#made the flow of time feel fucked up and i fully expected this to have been a longer nap considering how time felt in there lol

[izzy-b-hands]

If ur waiting on a reply from me (and i know a couple of folks are rn) thank u for ur patience in waiting. I'm working on typing things up but today is just. idk how to put it but i keep winding up grumpy and my replies i feel are suffering for it. Pls know i do wanna chat and exchange ideas, I'm just trying to make sure the Grumpasaurus Rex side of my brain that's v loud today isn't mucking them up before i send them 🫂🫂❤️❤️

#text post #like it's genuinely nothing just bad takes online some shitty messages in my inbox on here and reddit and not sleeping well at all #attempted a nap i woke up from like tenish minutes ago and it was all a realistic nightmare #in which ct house was somehow connected to nd condo & i kept getting caught on one side or the other at a time #unable to touch or talk to anyone until i was fully on either 'side' for a good while #made the flow of time feel fucked up and i fully expected this to have been a longer nap considering how time felt in there lol #but yeah. I'm trying and im v grateful to y'all waiting for being patient with me. thank u & i promise ill have my shit together soon #(aka might take an edible and just. idek. bake maybe? my brain isn't happy doing anything rn but cookies are always good) #have a potential call with mum later i need to prep for #...worst case scenario i try to nap a bit more and hope i don't wind up stuck in that weird hallway from my dream again #worst bit was the nd cats and my mum and ct cats and Housemate on each side both trying to get me out but couldn't #really don't wanna feel as stuck as i did in this dream but hey!! maybe it's trying to tell me something lmao #not entirely sure what but that's nothing new for me lmao #normally wouldn't post like this for replies but everyone waiting follows me so i figure this reaches everyone easily enough #& hopefully is better/more useful than me going radio silent bc my brain is being a baby abt shit that means nothing lmao

[sir-kuroo]

.—001 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐁𝐄𝐃 ♡ BLUE LOCK

headcanons - ft. isagi, bachira, kunigami, kurona, yukimiya 

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 ⋮ mentions of 69; cunnilingus; marking; creampie; titsucking; overstim 𖦹 @enchantedforest-network

♡ ISAGI

•••always asks you if you're just fine from time to time; is this alright? am I hurting you? let me know if you're uncomfortable;

•••most of the time in his head on how to please you; knows all of your pleasure points and gets even more excited when you're being vocal about it;

•••making you cum is like scoring a goal for him; so while he's very sweet and considerate at first don't expect it to last very long;

•••once he's inside you and he's feeling the rush, he'll fuck you senseless; your moans and whimpers fuel him even more;

•••probably feels slightly guilty on the inside but with you crying that he feels so good, there's no going back now and he's out here to make you feel even better;

•••he can fuck you in any position or rather you both would end up in different positions any way; he goes slow at first but then he gradually speeds up, fucking you like he has a time limit;

•••the type to chant your name in passion as he huffed and lost himself;

•••loves to spill it all inside you; his cum hitting your womb is like the ball hitting the net for him;

•••always leans down to sweep off stray hair from your face and kisses you; might apologizes if he goes overboard, but gets immense satisfaction at seeing how good he made you feel; aftercare king right here;

♡ BACHIRA

•••sex with him requires all clothes off; he'll worship your body, admiring it not only with his eyes but also with his hands/mouth;

•••expect his tongue to end up between your legs; loves it when he gets you dripping wet and he can suck you like a free flowing honey that juices spill down his chin;

•••he loves when you're riding on top of him; the way you're giving your all as you humped down on his dick makes him wanna rail you good;

•••he'll bounce you rabidly against his cock, letting go of his inhibitions as he loves doing it impactful and fast until you're too spent to remain in control, giving yourself fully in pleasure too and showing your wild side to him like you have never shown any other;

•••won't stop til you're both limping and whining; but loves it whenever you end up laying on his chest so he can cradle you and wrap his around you, assuring himself that you're here to stay;

♡ KUNIGAMI

•••oh, god! he loves it whenever he feels like you're so little compared to him; the way you clutch onto muscular arms and your eyes close whenever he enters you;

•••it's always the slow but heavy strokes for this guy; like he'll take almost all of his length out then slam it back in; fuck...just so you could feel the absence of his cock in your pussy and the difference when he already stuffed it in, stretching you full;

•••he always has his jaw clenched as he fucks you; it's a sexy sight to behold as he's so trained on you and serious yet he has a gentle hand lovingly over your head;

•••his groans and grunts are just so manly hot; it all seemed beastly as his muscles flex while he thrusts in you yet he's so tender by sensually kissing you and praising you from time to time, "yes, that's my good girl. take it in. take it all in";

♡ KURONA

•••sharky's open to try out new things in bed or even in the absence of it; knows your needs without you saying it tho he may initiate sex out of the blue from time to time;

•••teases you by biting the shell of your ear and when he does that you know he's down for something regardless of wherever, whenever you both are;

•••his oral fixation leads him to leave bite marks all over your body especially all the fleshy parts of you; specifically fond of your inner thighs everytime he eats you out; your tits whenever he leaves a big ring of his bite mark around your nipples;

•••tho he loves penetration, he finds it super special when you 69; your mouth passionately wrapped around his dick as he plays with your pussy and ocassionally chomps on your squishy ass cheeks;

•••finds it special whenever you leave a mark on him too; especially whenever you feel so much pleasure from the ministrations of his cock or fingers that your teeth sink on his shoulder;

•••drowns your ears with whispery moans and soft whines; looks irresidtible everytime his face will contort and flush helplessly while cumming;

♡ YUKIMIYA (got carried away here bc he's my bllk hubby T^T)

•••can't emphasize this enough but he can't have sex with just anybody; it has to be with someone he loves; sex for him is a form of showing how much he loves you and vice-versa;

•••a blend of tender, sweet and playful; he's down for whatever you're into and is not shy to let you know if he wants to do some freaky stuff that he wants to try as long as it doesn't involve other people; not the type to get aroused with the idea of sharing you;

•••when he fucks he fucks with his all; loves touring your body with his mouth and hands; fingers lovingly play with your pussy as he has his tongue rolling around your nipple;

•••never underestimate his gentleness; he's also passionatr and it shows in the way he stirs your insides up; like he has so much affection for you that he wants you to feel in the way he jerks his hips, sucks your pussy, plays with your tits; he wants you to feel just as overwhelmed as he is;

•••enjoys giving and receiving at the same time so he gets extra hard whenever you initiate stroking his length;

•••big on praise and he never fails to let you k ow how much he finds your pussy irresistible before he digs in and eats you out;

•••gets off with your praises too; pounds harder whenever you moan how good he's making you feel;

•••loves the feeling of your tits jiggling against his chest as he lowers himself to fuck you deeper; his gaze will remain in yours, remembering how beautiful you look like as you writhe beneath him;

•••always hugs you tight whenever you cum so he can feel how the tremors wash over you;

•••into giving soft commands; right there...princess; yes, nice and slow...nice and slow. there y'go. good...keep it up, just like that...mhmm, you're so amazing;

JOIN THE 🍷 𝐄𝐗𝐄𝐂𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐄! Get tagged whenever I update ♡

⏝︶︶⏝︶ ୨୧ ︶⏝︶︶⏝

© nekorei 2023 - All rights reserved. No work shall be reproduced, reposted, modified, translated in any form or by any means.

#isagi smut #bachira smut #kunigami smut #kurona smut #yukimiya smut #bllk smut #blue lock smut #isagi x reader #bachira x reader #kunigami x reader #kurona x reader #yukimiya x reader

[just-some-random-blogger]

Ghosts

[Waiting For A Lifetime IV] Part 1 2 3 4 ?

Daemon Targaryen x Reader + Aegon Targaryen x Reader + Aemond Targaryen x Reader + others (;

Summary: Ghosts will ride on to haunt you. Ghosts will come from your past, carrying a holy axe. Ghosts will taunt you you. Ghosts will come from your your memories, intent on burning the bridges at last.

Word Count: 5k+

Warnings: Fem!reader, Modern AU, smut (biting, hair pulling, but its honestly its vanilla, crying [they get pretty emotional], vaginal penetration, cream pie, cock warming), surface level knowledge on asoiaf lore, internet translated high valyrian, angst, fluff, typos, etc.

A/N: welcome my meowmeows today we die- i i mean dine 😃 i say MDNI but its at the very end so once you reach that part, you can always choose not to read it. please keep in mind that I have little knowledge about any asoiaf lore so if you would like to correct me, have at me Tagging: @pinksirensong @deniixlovezelda @targaryenmoony @pearlstiare @llovinjoonie @sabrina6272827 @ayamenimthiriel @comicsol1999 @fictionalcomforts @mirandastuckinthe80s @mooniesyubi @cookielovesbook-akie @panagiasikelia @mlwriting5 @bibli0thecary @ateliefloresdaprimavera @margaglitterdeath @fan-goddess @bibli0thecary @iamlost @queenofshinigamis @thebullship @slavyanskiyahui

"What are you doing?"

I look out the balcony. A wind blows across my body. My frilly lingerie flows in the wind.

"Come back inside, it's cold."

I lean on the fence. I look down at the view of Dorne as far as the eye could see. I release a breath.

I hear my name get spoken. It was no alias. No made up identity. It was my name. He calls out my name.

"I'm not cold," I mutter, mostly to myself.

A hand comes around my waist. I sigh as I am pulled in against a warm body. He hisses and presses his lips on my head, "you're ice cold, baby."

I shake my head, refusing to lean against him, "the sun hasn't shone yet. What do you expect the whether to be at this time?

He pushes my hair back and leans in to kiss my neck. His stubble scratches my skin. His deep voice utters, "I'll make you tea and breakfast..." both hands come to my stomach as he pulls me closer, "then toast, or waffles, or pancakes, or bac-"

He flinches and tightens his hold on me when there is a loud crash from the street below. He pulls away from me to check what happen. I don't look, instead I go inside.

"Fucking car crash," he calls out as I walk over to his bedroom, the bedroom that I had been staying in for far too long.

When I get there, I begin to pack my things and dress up. I catch my face in the mirror as I put on my pants. I freeze because of it. I trace the scars on my chest, from a dagger, I look at the marks at the curve of my jaw, from a sword, then I look at my hands, calloused centuries of memories. I feel hollow... hollower. I am reminded of my loneliness. I was devoid of purpose.

I look over my shoulder when I hear him call my name again. I hastily put the rest of my clothes on.

My purpose was not with him.

I shove clothes in my bag and zip it close.

He could not give me purpose.

I exit the bedroom before he can enter, and I head for the door. He catches my arm and stops me before I can walk any father. He says my name. I ignore him. He tugs my arm desperately, just how he repeats my name. I look at him, stoic, "I have to go."

His thick brows furrow. His jaw clenches. He shakes his head. He tightens his grip on my arm and steps forward, "I'm going to make you your fav-"

"I can't do this anymore, Bobby," I mutter sharply under my breath.

He freezes. I pull my arm away from him. I clutch my bag and face him fully, "our time is up."

He shakes his head. He places his hands on his hips. He calms his breathing. He speaks lowly, "stay for breakfast."

I press my lips into a soft smile, "you have been nothing but-"

"No."

"-kind, and sweet, and caring-"

"No. Please. No!"

"-and you are reason why I have gotten the closest I have to feeling love like this after such a long time-"

Bobby mutters my name and walks over to me. He clutches my bag and urges me toward him, "and I can show you more. Please, please just-"

I press my fingers on his lips. I shake my head and look at his glassy eyes. I brush back the short dark hairs by his forehead as I continue to disagree, "you deserve better than this."

"No I-"

"You deserve someone who's going to love you back."

"I don't want someone to love me back!" He grabs my shoulders, "I just want you."

I mutter his name but he does not hear it as he talks over me with a million offers, a million solutions, a million things he could and would do, so long as he could keep me.

I release my bag and clutch his shirt. I clench my jaw as tears leave my eyes at the sight of the ones streaming down his face. I release a sigh and lean into him. I silence him by claiming his mouth with my own. It is sad, it is desperate, it is salted with tears.

He pulls me against his chest. He does it with much vigor, intent on trapping me against his chest. He rubs my back and chases my mouth like it was his lifeline. He pushes me back. I let him push me back. He seals me against the wall and his arms, but then he dig his fingers into my waist band.

"Bobby-" I catch his wrists.

"Please," he mutters, kissing me again, "I'm good at his. I'm good at this... can make you feel good. Please."

I push him away before he can undo the button.

He whimpers. His voice cracks, "please- please, I can make you love me."

I shake my head. I ghost my fingertips on his temple, "not in this lifetime," I touch my lips on his cheek for the final time, "goodbye, Bobby."

I snap to my side, reeling out of my thoughts when I hear someone cough. I am back in reality, evidence was the sight of King Viserys' raised brows. I shrug and turn back to the artifact hung on the wall, "Dornish art to me is..." I brush away the memory that flooded my brain as I offered a smile to the man beside me, "heart ache and heat."

Viserys chuckles as he glances at the display, "that doesn't sound very enthusiastic. Are you not a fan of the Dornes?"

I release a breath, "I speak this with nothing but honesty," I raise my hands, "but I am biased to the aesthetics of the Targaryen dynasty."

The king laughs, "spoken like a true poet."

I press my lips into a soft smile, "well, I am a lover of many arts, my king." I motion to the exit of the exhibit, "perhaps, I think, you would enjoy this area of the museum much more, your majesty."

I lead the king (and his bodyguards) to the next section of the place. Immediately, the king reacts to the sight of the massive dragon skull in the middle of the room. He laughs as he nears the thing. I smile at the sight of his excited face.

"Balerion," the king says.

I tail after him as he moves to the inscription for the object, "indeed. The Black Dread, mount of King Aegon the first, King Maegor the first, Princess Aerea, and King Viserys the first."

The king chuckles under his breath as he shakes his head, "skoros iā ossȳngnon ziry would emagon issare."

What a terror he would have been.

I nod my head and look at the skull, "a fearsome and terrorizing beauty indeed."

Viserys turns to me just as I motion to the walls and begin to ramble about the history of it all, particularly nerding out over the massive painting depicting dragons, Targaryen princes, and civil war.

"You need not remind me of the history of my ancestors, pet," he says, walking up beside me, with his hands behind his back, "what I am more interested in is the rest of your tale with the prince."

I turn to Viserys and give him a smile and shrug, "as I said your grace, I have recounted all the memories I've had with your brother, prince Daemon the eighth."

The king makes a face, "huh," he raises a brow and narrows his eyes, "I don't suppose you have memories with prince Daemon the seventh then?"

I chuckle, "no," I shake my head, turning back to the painting, "only with Daemon the first."

The king laughs under his breath and turns to the painting as well.

"Oh yes I do hope you're enjoying yourself, brother."

Before I could react to the words that were spoken, I am pulled back and kissed on the neck. I turn from the painting, one of the many that visualized the Dance of the Dragons, then over my shoulder about the same time Viserys does.

"Daemon-" the king barks, eyes looking out to room, warry of everyone around. He does not continue when he hears the prince pipe up to me, "did he do anything unsavory to you, my love?"

This time, both Viserys and I speak his name, albeit starkly contrasting.

"Daemon," I mutter, as I try to push him away, "please, we are out in public. Some-"

"I don't give a fuck," Daemon cuts me off, ripping me back into him, "answer the question."

"Daemon," Viserys grumbles, stepping close, "unhand her."

"No!" Daemon snaps, shooting a look of daggers to his brother.

I gasp as I press my fingers to his lips. I slowly move away from him. "My love please," I whine, "the king has been nothing but kind to me and all he is asking for you to conduct you-"

"I will not have anyone, even the king, separate me from my bride," he yanks me close to him, arm coming around my shoulders.

My hands clutch his arms.

At that moment, because of how it reflected the light, Viserys spots the silver ring on his brother's bride. His eyes twitches as he rethinks the story of the personal vows. He scoffs, eyes darting back up to Daemon, "you do realize doing this makes her life more difficult."

Daemon turns to his brother, lips curling into a smile, although he was not amused by the thought even a fraction, "well then let me take her to Dragonston-"

"Keep your voice down," Viserys hisses, stepping closer.

Daemon pushes me behind him and moves towards the king, "lo ao sagon olvie gaomagon lēda aōha urnēptre hen kustikāne naejot ñuha ābrazȳrys, ao sȳrje sagon jāre sir."

If you're quite done with your show of strength to my wife, you best be going now.

"Daemon," I call out

Viserys makes a face as he scoffs. He shakes his head, "I'm doing this to protect you, Daemon."

"Well I don't want your protection," he mutters, "I can protect myself. I can protect her," he quips, "what I need is your-"

"My what?" Viserys cuts, "my blind obedience to your wishes?" He lets out another scoff, "perhaps you should have been born first and become king."

Daemon holds his tongue. This is why Viserys will never know that the word his baby brother meant to say was blessing.

Viserys pulls away from Daemon and masks his expression rather quickly when he hears one of the bodyguards tell off some people from trying to enter this part of the exhibit and for attempting to take pictures.

I watch as the lines on Daemon's face tighten. I watch as he presses his lips together in tension where Viserys loosens his jaw and takes a breath.

The king turns around, clapping his hands together, putting on a grin, "well, if I must leave, then I should have my photo be taken with the staff of the museum." He turns to me, "would you be a dear and invite your colleagues over for a photo?"

Daemon turns to me as Viserys points, "I should like one with Balerion."

I smile and nod, "of course, your grace."

When I move off to round up the museum personnel, Daemon grabs my arm and knits his brows. He presses his lips into a pleading frown and makes up for the space between us.

I sigh and shake my head, "calm down," I mutter in High Valyrian. I reach out for his cheek and brush his skin, "nothing will happen with me. I will be back soon."

Viserys knits his brows as he watches Daemon mutter pleas in their mother tongue not to be left alone. He feels a sting in his heart at the desperation of his brother. He is deeply disturbed by everything.

He then thinks about the admission he heard earlier, about when Daemon wandered off drunk and arrived at his 'wife's' home, nothing but actual sleeping happened. He wonders if Daemon will lose interest once they share a bed.

I sigh when Daemon steals a kiss from my lips. I brush his hair back and give him a smile before I walk off to do my business. Daemon refuses to release my hand until the very last moment. He leaves his arm hanging in the air as he watches me walk away.

Viserys watches Daemon watches me.

"Brother," Viserys says, "I am genuinely concerned for you."

Daemon turns to him, all the softness in his expression fading. He pettily ignores the king and turns to the painting on the wall. He crosses his arms and stares blankly.

The elder of the two sighs and beholds the same painting before him. Viserys thinks about the artistry but only for a moment because he beholds the fury of the dragons, the fury of the princes, the fire and the blood. He looks upon the legacy of his house, the strife of his kin, the romanticization of it all. Then he looks upon his brother. He looks at how his violet eyes glistened with the light from the room, and yet the light in his eyes was not there.

And he looked again when their picture was taken, how he smiled softly at the camera as he stood next to whom he was so adamant to be around. Viserys saw the change.

Daemon places his arm over both me and one other employee. I turn to Bertha as she grins and says, "the prince has his arm on our shoulders."

I grin back at her as Daemon smiles at me, "well, I must constantly be surrounded have a beautiful woman in my arm," he turns to Bertha, "now I have two."

Bertha giggles as I shake my head.

I turn to Aemond to my right. He is rigid beside me, and so pull him close and offer a smile. He mumbles under his breath, "I can do something if you're not uncomfortable with having your photo taken."

I give him a quick smile and shake my head, "it'll be fine."

Aemond clenches his jaw. He turns away just before Daemon shoots him a look.

"Alright everyone," the photographer says, "big smile in 3, 2, 1."

The photo ends up on the news, on the TV, on the radio, on the internet, on the magazines, on the newspaper.

King Viserys and Prince Daemon honor Museum of Ice and Fire with a visit in line with upcoming Cultural Arts Celebration

The Blonde Brothers reunite with a visit to Museum of Ice and Fire in honor of incoming Cultural Arts Celebration to be held next week.

Targaryens storm the Museum of Ice and Fire, leaving everyone swooning and saluting

Prince Daemon flirts with local museum curator during a visit to Museum of Ice and Fire

Upon reading seeing the photos attached to one of the many headlines tied to that day, Bobby drops his mug and misses the table, causing it to crash and break and spill all over the floor. He hisses as the hot coffee splashes on his leg and yet he pays no more than a second's thought on it as he leans into his computer and clicks the link on the screen.

He stares at the photograph of the prince with his arm over two women, one of which he knew for she was his ghost, his love, his heartbreak and heat.

He lets out a shaky breath then pushes himself off his desk chair. He grabs his phone and calls a contact, biting his fingernails as he did so.

"Hell-"

"Martell," he says, which is enough of a formality you could ever get out of him at this point, "I need you to pull out some old files and redo some research for me."

Alternatively, Aegon was hammering his head over and over again on his table as he wasted the little time he had on break by obsessing over the articles he saw on the internet.

He wasn't hungry anyway.

No, that was a lie. He was starving, but he already finished his snack after stuffing the fish and chips he had in his mouth far too quickly for anyone's good. He hadn't even realized he finished it, nor that he was eating, really, upon until he looked to his empty plate with shock washing over.

Now he had just made himself miserable and didn't feel any fuller than he was before eating.

He looks at the time and laughs bitterly to himself. This was supposed to be the time his saving grace came, but he knew no one was coming today.

He messages his brother again. Scrolling up from the first message he sent today down to the last.

DUDE WTF THE ROYAL FAMILY IS AT YOUR JOB? BRUH BRUH brush bruh AEMOND THE HELL IS HAPPENING oh is it the king wtf is the king doing there THE BLOND BITHCES ARE THERE aemond are you dead?????????? AEMOND WAHT THE FUCK Link attached WHAT THE FUCK YOU SITTING THERE NEXT TO HER Link attached Link attached Link attached AEMOND YOU IDIOT BITCH ASS CUNT RESPOND TO ME i hope youre miserable i hope you see them make out again can you ask her if shes coming ............ i know she wont but do it anyway fuck you bitch Image Attatched

"Quit flippin' on ya phone and get back to work boy," Aegon's boss calls as he enters the storage room, "breaks over."

Aegon stands and nods, "yeah, boss."

Aemond sorely ignored his phone as it blew up. It was bad enough that his head was plagued with the images of a doting couple sneaking glances and touches of each other, he did the right thing by putting his phone on silent.

He was currently on chapter 15 of the book he found entitled Blood Magic, Soul Ties, & Rebirth. In truth, it was nothing like he expected it to be. It was written more like a diary rather than a document like he had expected. It was all written in the perspective of the author, much like the tomes of the old history of Westeros, but, in his opinion, not at all academic in nature. Upon seeing there were parts that spilled into fantastical accounts Aemond understood why this book was still very much under review in the museum, and not somewhere in the national library. What exactly was it?

The chapters would start with personal ire:

Eman suffered rōvēgrī va se [account] hen [magic] se [ash]. Nyke ilimagho se [loss] hen mirre whom nyke jorrāelagon. Nyke [scorn] nykēla syt se [mercy] [exchanged] syt ñuha [soul], skore nyke ojūdan. Gaoman daor jaelagon naejot glaesagon, yn nyke glaesagon syt zirȳla.

I have suffered greatly on the [account] of [magic] and [ash]. I mourn the [loss] of all whom I love. I [scorn] myself for the [mercy] [exchanged] for my [soul], which I lost. I do not wish to live, but I live for him.

And then would go about to explain the process of a certain spell or incantation, all of which involve the spilling of blood, be it animal or human.

Se [spell] syt ease hen riña sikagon. Issa [recommended] bona gaomā bisy [month] iā [less] gō se sikagon hen aōha riña. Kesā jorrāelagon ānogar hen iā [elk], iā molry hen iā [elk], lanta [hooves] hen iā [elk], ānogar hen iā atroksia, ampa [feathers] hen iā atroksia. Istia perform se [following] [incantation] rȳ se zōbrie bantio.

The [spell] for ease of child birth. It is [recommended] that you do this one [month] or [less] before the birth of your child. You will need blood of an [elk], a horn of an [elk], two [hooves] of an [elk], blood of an owl, ten [feathers] of an owl. You must perform the [following] [incantation] at the dark of night.

Finally ending with ominous warnings that tread the line between a word of caution and a threat.

Sagon [warned] bona se [cost] hen ānogar [magic] ēza zȳha [weight] isse ānogar. Daor [amount] hen āeksion kessa [save] ao hen se [consequences] hen skore ao jaelagon naejot [reap]. Sagon [warned] bona ao daor undo līr iksis gaomagon Se ao daor [exact] līr kessa sagon se [payment] syt aōha actions.

Be [warned] that the [cost] of the blood [magic] has its [weight] in blood. No [amount] of gold will [save] you from the [consequences] of which you wish to [reap.] Be [warned] that you cannot undo that which is done and you cannot [exact] that which will be the [payment] for your actions.

Aemond narrows his brows and cocks his head at a particularly random hark.

Eman issare maghatan arlī naejot ābrar ondoso se dārilaros se oh skorkydoso nyke jaelagon [instead] naejot emagon rhēdan zirȳla rȳ se remȳti hen mēre hen [heavens] iā sesīr rȳ mēre hen [hells]. Oh valzȳrys [would] ao [loathe] nyke syt [reaping] nykēla hen qrimbrōstan irudy ao teptan nyke?

I have been brought back to life by the prince and oh how I wish [instead] to have met him at the gates of one of the [heavens] or even at one of the [hells]. Oh husband [would] you [loathe] me for [reaping] myself of the cursed gift you gave me?

He straightens in his seat when someone comes in and announces he's done for the day and that Aemond should probably get going too. He nods his head in regard and puts the largish book down, debating whether or not anyone would look for it if he took it home with him.

He checks the time on his phone, swiping away his million notifications from his brother, then raises a brow at the email notification he got from his cousin, Alicent.

All the while the king and queen were discussing Daemon over dinner.

Aemma grins, "so you've given him your blessing!"

"Lovie, it's like you've not heard a word I said," Viserys says as he licks the side of his knife, which was covered in sauce.

"Visy, I heard you loud and clear, and I'm glad that you've opened up your heart for this," she smiles as she cuts up her meat.

The king rolls his eyes, "I gave him an ultimatum."

"Exactly," the queen shakes her head and repeats her husband's words, "1 week, 1 month, 3 months, half a year until a years passed. If he still feels the same as he does now, then I shall be attending a wedding at Dragonstone by this time next year and my Rhaenyra can expect cousins most swiftly!"

He sighs and drops his cutlery, "my dear," he licks his lips, "I don't want you to get your hope up over something that could well not last."

Aemma eyes him darkly, "well you ought to not jinx it with you sourness."

"Aemma."

"Viserys," she places her own silverware down, "you told me yourself that you saw how his eyes lit up at the sight of her."

He rolls his jaw and leans back on his chair.

"You and your brother have may act like you're constantly at separate ends of pole, but I know that each time you snarl and snap at each other with fire at the back of your throat, neither of you care any less about the other."

Aemma presses her lips together as Viserys looks at her face. He sighs. He reaches out for her cheek, stroking her fair brows, memorizing the curve of her lips before leaning in to kiss her. He would be lost without his light, his Aemma. He wonders if, truly, that was how Daemon felt about this woman.

Well, Daemon let his actions speak louder than his words that night.

The moment we arrived to my home, after Daemon begrudgingly waited out my shift in one of the royal guard's car, I was immediately swarmed by him, him and his hands, his lips, his voice, his breath. Daemon caught me against him and refused to concede, to yield, or even to loosen he grip.

He barely even let me lock my front door on our way inside. I was glad I managed through his tender and eager, open mouthed attacks.

"Kesā daor henujagon nyke arlī, ābrazȳrys," Daemon mutters as he pulls me into him not even a second after letting me go to close the door. He shoves my hair off to the side and attacks my nape with kisses, leading me backward as he blindly navigated my home in the dark.

I hiss then chastise him with giggles when he runs into my lamp, "Daemon please."

"It's so fucking dark."

I pull away from him and take his hands that were clutching my torso, leading him off to my bedroom.

The moment I open the door, he charges at me with more kisses, this time, the light from the street lamps and the moon made it easier for him to navigate to the bed.

I release a sigh when he pushes me back on the mattress, chest pressed against mine, hands caressing and massaging every part of my body. He breathily repeats his words from earlier in between kisses, "kesā daor henujagon nyke arlī, ābrazȳrys," he begins to rip at my clothing, "iksā ñuhon," he heaves, "mirre ñuhon," he presses his forehead on mine, "ñuhon, ñuhon, ñuhon, ñuhon -"

You will not leave me again, wife. You are mine. All mine. Mine, mine, mine, mine.

I shift on my spot and sit up as I help Daemon undress me before he sequentially helps me undress himself.

I whimper as he pushes me back down and grabs my thighs. I squeak out a moan, catching his face in my hands, as he hovers over me.

I cry his name out when I feel him brush his hardened and pulsing length against me. He hisses as he looks down. His hands leave my thighs, one landing by my side, propping him up, the other coming to my wetness, stroking me there sweetly, "such a pretty girl, my love... so ready for me."

I whine as he amuses himself by fondling with my slick. He touches me as light as a ghost and teases my weeping entrance like a devious little boy, hellbent on making chaos of everything.

"Daemon."

"Shhhh," he leans in and licks my lips, "ivestragī nyke emagon ñuha kirimves." Let me have my fun.

I chase after his mouth but he pulls away too quickly, continuing to make a mess of me.

I bring my fingers to his nape, nails digging into his scalp, firmly tugging at his blonde locks. I plead, "Daemon."

He pacifies me with a kiss but does not cease his teasing ministrations. I moan when I feel his two digits barely sink into me. He laughs against our kiss and has to pull away from me all together, both hands sinking into the cushion by my sides, to calm himself down.

I huff in frustration and impatience at his deep chuckles. I decide to take matters into my own hands, literally, and shift beneath him, grabbing his thick member, easing him into me.

His amusement curdles into a moan at my touch. We both audibly react when he slowly sinks into me. He cusses where I call out his name. He breathes hotly against my neck as I wrap my arms around him and seal my legs around his waist.

He suddenly finds it in him to laugh again. He does so with much excitement.

And though I whimper at the feel of him jolting within me, I cannot help but feel a sense of contentment wave upon me. I rub my cheek against his head and scratch his scalp gently. We stay like this for a long while. I do not mind it, not really, I like him like this. But with every second that passed, it felt like my pulse was banging harder and harder.

I whine "ñuha jorrāelagon, kostilus dīnagon, nyke jorrāelagon ao sir" My love, please move, I need you right now.

Daemon chuckles and kisses my jaw, hands squeezing my thigh firmly as he slowly lifts his head up, "so impatient."

I rock my hips beneath him as I nod, "need you so bad."

Daemon obliges and begins to slowly thrust into me. He kisses my lips and makes a sound that is a laugh mixed with a moan, "I know, baby," he digs his nails into my flesh, "I know," he repeats more solemnly, "I need you too-- need you so badly."

My breath hitches when he picks up his pace. He quickens just a little bit, so subtly, and it grinds at my brain. Each time he moves, he exits wholly and enters fully, he stretches me out so nicely and fills me up so good.

I pant against his shoulder and sink my teeth into his muscle, licking and sucking at the area.

He moans at the feeling. He then shifts me in my spot, pushing me up, allowing himself more leverage from above me, making me cry out when he hits a part in me that touches seemingly every nerve of my body.

I screw my eyes shut and feel my eyes water at the sensation. I throw my head back and rip at his shoulder blades.

He huffs against me and continues in his pace, andante, taking his time to move from tip to hilt, savoring each moment, each stroke, each huff, each sigh, each whimper.

He continues like this. He is steady like this. He is beautiful like this.

My fingers and toes curl at the feel of him. My belly flutters. My breath strains. My mind fogs. All because of him, because of how I take in his scent, how I taste his skin, how I wrap around him.

"Dārilaros," I mutter against his ear, "ao ȳdra daor gīmigon skorkydoso olvie nyke bōsa naejot gaomagon ao hae bisa."

My prince, you don't know how much I long to keep you like this.

Daemon thrusts particularly deeply.

Tears pool at the corner of my eyes. Air catches in my throat. I choke on a sob as emotion floods through me. I am hit with this epiphany so very suddenly. I was, next moment, cathartic over the fact he was real, he was here, and he was mine. After all these years, after the dredging, after the lamenting, after the hurting, here he was, a sky above me, a sanctuary around me, a hearth inside me.

He loves on my face, peppering my skin with with kisses, "pār gaomagon nyke va ao," he presses his hands on my waist, knocking into me with forte, "umbagon lēda nyke," he moans against my lips, "sagon ñuha lenton,"

Then keep me on you, stay with me, be my home.

When my hands dart to his cheeks. Only then do I realize that he, too, was teary eyed as my thumbs find the dampness on his face. I open my eyes to look at him but shut close again when his mouth finds mine.

Daemon eases into his accelerando, gently and caringly thrusting faster and faster, staying deeper and deeper until he barely pulls out and he's just trapped into me.

He nips at my lip as I my hands dart to his hips, ripping at the skin there. He continues in his tight movements until he ultimately hooks his hands at the back of my knees and pushes my legs up, breaking into me vigorously until I couldn't think and I could only feel and scream out his name.

And as I climbed up to my high, I called out to him. And as he eased up into his, he called out to me.

And then it all comes crashing down. And then I can't breathe or move, I just tighten and whine and break against him.

And then I feel him follow suit. And then he looses his mind and his tempo, he just pounds and melts and falls into me.

And I feel my whole body burn, I feel my nerves rip into a symphony of pleasure. I feel his heat spill into me. I fill him fill me up until he's completely spent and even after that. I feel my body flinch around him. I feel him bottom out and run over in me. And I missed it. I missed this so much. I missed him so much. I missed him.

His erratic movements lull into slow tender one again, yet he doesn't cease his rocking until I'm shaking and wailing and dripping all over. I feel myself overflow with him, in both literal and metaphorical. I feel my whole body burn while he heaves atop me as he delicately touches down. He rests his entire weight on me; he's an invited and longed for blanket, a heaviness that I have dreamt of having pressed against me for so long.

I feel his heart hammering in his ribcage as mine beneath him did the same. His strangled breath echoes mine. My name spills out of his lips like a prayer. He nuzzles his face in the crook of my neck. His hands rub my legs that were wrapped around him. He was fastens them around his hips, as if my limbs were not tight enough, as if it was possible for him to move closer into me than he already was.

I cradle his head in my hands and adjust my face beside his.

"Avy jorrāelan," I speak softly against his ear, "eman jorrāelatan jeme ñuha ābrar se kessa jorrāelagon ao sesīr tolī."

I love you. I have loved you all my life and will love you even after.

Daemon responds with a kiss, with a rub of his nose, then with his words, "ñuha gevie lenton," he lifts his head up, sighing as he reached out to my cheek, "ñuha vok dārilaros."

Im that moment, I see a vague outline of his face even with through the darkness of my bedroom, but more than that, I hear the affection in his words. The sincerity locked in his voice, "syt ao ossēninna tolvie zaldrīzes, geron tolvie rizmun, iderēbagon tolvie rūklon, se jiōragon se olvie jelevre isse ñuha irosh sepār naejot sagon able naejot ūndegon aōha laehurlion."

My breath hitches, "Dae-"

"Avy jorrāelan."

My beautiful home, my perfect princess, for you I will kill every dragon, walk every desert, pick every flower, and offer the very breath in my throat just to be able to see your face. I love you.

I feel tears rush down my face when I lean up and kiss him.

#daemon targaryen smut #daemon smut #hotd smut #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen fanfic #daemon fanfic #daemon targaryen #daemon x reader #daemon #daemon targaryen x you #house of the dragon fanfic #hotd fanfic #daemon angst #daemon targaryen angst #daemon fluff #daemon targaryen fluff #daemon au #modern!daemon #modern!aegon #aegon #aegon targaryen #aegon fanfic #aegon targaryen fanfic #aegon fluff #aegon angst #aegon targaryen fluff #aegon targaryen angst #aegon x reader #aegon x you #aemond fanfic

[arainbowofchaos]

Love Vs Expectations

pair: Jungkook x reader

genre : angsty as fuck

warnings:  toxic relationship

word count: 1,2k

summary: You're in an unhealthy relationship with the man you've longed for, but you see it as better than having no relationship at all.

[A/N]: I’m sorry this is so angsty forgive my toxic ass

You're 28 years old; you don't have any time to waste. You need to create a life that reflects who you are, but you're not sure who that person is anymore.

You practice self-care and beauty routines to avoid regrets when you're older, but you used to go days without eating just to see if it could ease the pain in your heart. You're a hypocrite because you're addicted to a pain far more terrible than ever before. Now you've fallen deeply in love.

You managed to find someone even more damaged than you. However, the first time you met him, he made you believe that he had control over his emotions, that he was stable, confident in himself and in life in general. And you, who were afraid of everything, threw yourself into his arms to find comfort from all your woes.

He didn’t like it when you acted childish, but you met him at 19, so you were a child. Thus, you became more reasonable and mature in an effort to please him, and you lost your zest for life.

He doesn't make it clear that he'll never offer marriage or a baby, but after 8 years, you've come to the realization that he'll never make a move. You convince yourself that you don't care because he's the one you want forever. But deep down, you're full of doubts because why were you so eager to offer him exclusivity when he can’t commit fully to you?

You thought you were smarter than that; you didn’t think you would fall for someone who wouldn't treat you as you deserve. However, you fell head over heels in love with him without any control, and now, no matter how much you suffer, you're stuck.

While desperately trying to rediscover who you are, you reconnected with the passions from your teenage years that you had set aside to seem more grown-up. You enrolled in classes to learn and nurture your soul, all in an attempt to find yourself once again. You yearn to travel, meet people, and truly live, as you're exhausted from merely surviving.

He's not pleased. He understands toxicity, so he pretends to support you, not stopping you but gradually losing his spark. He doesn't smile anymore, and he doesn't make an effort with your friends. He silently makes you pay for showing interest in anything other than him.

So, you feel guilty, and you propose the idea of both of you embarking on a journey, leaving everything behind—your job, friends, family, and obligations. He's inclined to say yes to keep you by his side, but even this suggestion terrifies him. He desires your exclusive company, yet the prospect of commitment and potential pain holds him back. As a result, you stood at the edge, urging him to join the leap, hoping you could be together. Yet, he sadly holds back, and you're left with a heavy heart, uncertain of your next step.

Should you jump alone?

Jungkook's voice interrupts the flow of your thoughts, "Want to watch a movie?" he asks, nonchalantly, as if you hadn't been arguing just a few minutes ago.

You shake your head to decline. You don't want to watch TV because you know that you'll eventually end up cuddling on the comfort of your couch. You'll naturally rest your head against his chest, listening to the beats of his heart that will sync with yours. You're aware that feeling him so close could make you crumble and erase all your threats. Everything you just told him, that ultimatum you gave, all of it would mean nothing if you give in now.

"Come on, baby, come into my arms. I can't stand to see you like this," Jungkook pouts, moving dangerously close to you, and you retreat until your back hits the wall. You feel trapped, like an animal blinded by the headlights of a car, blinded by the beauty of the man in front of you. His large doe-like eyes look at you with tenderness, his pink and tempting lips beg for your forgiveness. And you could, you could give in; it wouldn't be the first time. But every time you do, you lose a bit more of your self-esteem.

"I'm sorry, baby. You know I love you, I'll never love anyone like you," lies, you think to yourself. Your jaw clenches, preventing you from screaming. You only hear those three words for your birthday or when you make a scene. He's so stingy with his words and feelings. You only get his "I love you" at the cost of your tears and pain.

You've had enough; you don't want to give in. Even though all you long for is to embrace him, to feel his warmth envelop and comfort you, you understand that you'll lose all credibility. He'll never put in the effort to truly invest and build with you.

"You're a diamond, so precious to me. Let me make it up to you. I'll do better in the future, I promise," he smiles widely and continues moving towards you. He's saying everything you want to hear, proving that he could be more generous with his words all the time. He could be perfect, but he chooses to be mediocre, and it's your fault, you've let him be that way from the start. But you were so young and in love, so naive and vulnerable. You just wanted someone to make you feel whole, and he kept his promise. Now without him, it feels like you’re nothing.

"I want you so much," he whispers into your ear now; you let him come too close. Tears escape your eyes, trailing slowly down your warm cheeks. Jungkook wipes them away with his thumbs and places a gentle kiss on your forehead. "You're so beautiful," he says softly. He never finds you as beautiful as when you're broken like this.

Jungkook starts kissing your neck, and you don't do anything to push him away. What's the point? You'd lose in this game. Because your body is made only for him, forever. He was the first to learn how to make you feel good. You're convinced that no one will ever be able to touch you like he does. His scent makes your head spin, and you moan as he leaves a trail of hickeys on your neck. He wants to remind you that you belong to him and only him, forever. Even if he never commits fully. Even if he sleeps with others. You are his.

As he lifts you up and carries you in his arms to your bedroom, calling you with sweet words and caressing your hair, you allow the weight of guilt to evaporate. You're doing your best; you’ll be stronger next time you promise yourself, and maybe he will decide that he only needs you just as you need him. You cling to his neck tightly; you don't want to let him go. Ever.

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #bts jungkook x reader #bts jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook imagine #bts jeon jungkook x reader #bts jeon jungkook imagine #jungkook fanfic #jungkook oneshot #jungkook angst #jungkook drabble #my words

[thegnomelord]

okay i finally caved and wanted to talk about my idea for a nishruu inspired monster of sorts? i just enjoy rambling a little bit as you may be able to tell

so nishruu. red whisps that endlessly hunt down magic and magical items to sate their hunger, so these creatures are a nightmare for mages and magic wielders. all of my knowledge for these guys comes from dnd, so ill have to take a few creative liberties but im not complaining! pure nishruus are rare - as well as humans that have under some circumstances become fused with these little magic eaters. they're slightly similar to wraiths - having whispy bodies that are impossible to contain considering how they can slip through even the smallest of cracks. they look... mostly human, besides the way their forearms, into their hands, fade into a red mist that flows off of their form, and how they can turn fully into whisps and slip away. these half-nishruus rely on magic to sustain themselves the same, so it isn't uncommon for these acceptionally rare monsters to seek out mages or other magic wielders and make a deal. i really love symbiosis - and considering that half-nishruus have human intelligence, making a deal is typically the best plan for them.

the deals are usually simple - in exchange for some magic to keep them sustained, the nishruus will fight to keep the person they made the deal with alive. after all, it's wise for them to keep their... supplier? alive, considering how many magic wielders will likely throw salt the second they see red whisps. oh, and nishruus main weaknesses are salt. it deals damage similar to poison to them. some magic wielders have even been spotted with sealed amulets containing a strange red substance inside, containing these nishruus until battle comes, where they release the magic eaters (which are likely very hungry) to aid them against any enemies who may have magical weapons or spells

also just imagining a nishruu hybrid crawling over to ifrit and begging for a deal, then ifrit keeps them like a pokemon lmao

-🪸

Okay this is cool and got me brain doing the hyperfocusing thingy so here's a noncannon blurb with Ifrit set at a time when Ifrit's been, mostly, redeemed lol. Probably doesn't make much sense but idk

You stare at Price, unmoving, unblinking. Then your gaze slowly slides to the man sitting across Price's desk. Corporal Simmons shrinks into himself, shoulders hunching and looking down, unable to meet your eyes. He doesn't know why he feels like a little boy in your presence, he's your superior for fuck's sake, but the way you look at him. . . if fucking scares him.

Finally, you speak, voice softer than Simmons expected it to be. It only makes the cold edge to it press against his throat harder. "Captain, with all due respect, which is none." You say, your hard gaze falling back to Captain Price. "What the fuck?"

Price lets out a low sigh, already done with your shit yesterday. "Don't make me write you up private." You both know he won't, you've said and done worse things than this. "You heard me clearly."

"Yeah, I heard you." You say, unable to hide the way your muscles tense, your fingers curled into fists. "I just don't understand why I have to keep the damn leech alive."

Simmon's tries to speak up, "Hey, I'm not-"

"Shut your mouth." The way you say it leaves no room for argument. Even without using magic, Simmons can feel the way it simmers beneath your skin, like lava bubbling beneath the earth. So plentiful and vast it makes his mouth water, stomach coiling itself into knots as red smoke fizzles at his fingers. God, he's so hungry, he hasn't eaten in weeks.

"Captain, there are other mages that would be more than happy to have this parasite attached to them." You grunt, motioning loosely to Simmons. "I don't get why I have to feed the damn thing." You make your disgust for Simmon's painfully clear.

"That's enough private." Price's growl forces you to listen, your attention on him as he stands. "This is an order." His hand reaches out to grip your chin, his touch making your skin prickle even when the balaclava you wear dampens the touch. "You will follow." His blue eyes stare into yours, thumb tracing the curve of your jaw. It's almost endearing, the way he does it, but you know enough about dragons to see the hidden dominance in his touch. "Am I clear?"

You feel yourself frown, your eyes narrowing. "If it tries anything funny I'm taking it behind the barn and putting it down."

"Ifrit." The latter half of your callsign rolls off his tongue into a low rumble. Price tightens the hold on your chin, making it clear you're skirting the line of how much you can push before he needs to tan your ass to get some obedience back in you.

It makes your lightning prickle beneath your skin, "Yes sir." You grumble. "I understand."

"Good mage." He tuts and lets you go, "Dismissed."

You nod your head, your eye catching Simmon's as you turn to your heel. "Follow." You say, the sharpness in your voice making him scramble out of his seat after you. He sticks close to you as you walk through the hallways until you reach the training area, the walls and floors singed and blackened from weeks of training.

"Just so you know." You say, turning to look at Simmons. "As far as I'm concerned, death would suit you better." You say as you take off your glove, revealing the cooled mana texture of your mage marks. You hold your hand out, your fingertips starting to glow as you let a bit of mana flow to your palms.

Simmon's nearly stumbles over his feet, hands reaching out to hold your hand. He can't help but moan as he presses his lips to your palm, the smoke coming from his arms curling around your skin. He feels like a starving man finally getting a glass of water, feeling the mana flow into his body. He feels hot, his tongue tingles like he's just eaten something spicy, but god if feels wonderful.

He doesn't think he's ever met a mage with so much plentiful mana as you, his teeth nibbling on the volcanic chunks of your palm as he devours more mana. It curls in his belly, traveling through his veins, making him feel so warm and he just wants more, more, More—

"That's enough." You growl, pulling your hand back and quickly putting your glove back on. "Should be enough for a week." You grunt, leaving him standing where he is.

#gnome's tea break #gnome correspondence #🪸anon #hell has a basement floor series #non cannon #captain john price x male reader #captain john price x reader #cod modern warfare #cod x reader

[angelltheninth]

Quick to Assume

Pairing: Julian Devorak x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, praise kink, dirty talk, gentle sex, cock riding, topping from the bottom, clit stimulation, smug Julian Devorak

Word count: 0.9k

Ao3

Kinktober Day 1: Praise kink

A/N: Here's the fist fic for kinktober! This was a lot of fun Julian is smug and a little shady but look at him! He can be as smug and shady as he wants.

"Don't be shy beautiful, hop right on." Julian winks, which looks a little funny with his eyepatch, but with the rest of him being naked, and with his cock being fully erect while he slowly stroked it, you couldn't find much about the sight to be unattractive.

"Are you sure? I though you'd want to, well, be the one on top you know?" Not that the thought of getting on top of him didn't appeal to you, but he was so eager to get your clothes off even while you were still at the tavern so you expected him to pounce on you the moment the two of you were naked. "I've heard a lot about you and no one's ever told me they topped the great Julian Devorak."

Julian grinned in that smug, sexy way that made your head swoon even across the tavern floor. "People have been on top of me before. But I assure you I'm always the one in control."

You quirked a brow at him as you crawled on top of him, lightly smacking his hand away from his cock and replacing it with your own. His cock pulsed and throbbed hotly in your hand, the tip leaking cum as you swiped the pad of your thumb over it, using his cum to get him ready for you.

"You've done enough of that already. I just want to feel what it's like to be inside you. What do you say? Don't you want to feel my cock now? Or do you need more of my mouth?" A rush of heat flowed through you, settling between your legs. He already has his fill of you in a back alley, and while you could go for more you were craving his dick more.

If he' giving himself to you so completely who you sure as hell weren't going to say no to him now. With a smirk you rose up to your knees, passing the cock of his head through your folds a few times, spreading your slick juices over him. Julian hummed in delight, his hands smoothing over your thighs as you angled your self against him and took in the tip.

You wanted to go slow, you thought he wanted you to go slow, but as soon as the tip was in Julian's smirk turned a little wicked, there was a shine in his eye as his fingers curled and squeezed your thighs and he pulled you down onto his length with force.

"F-Fuck!" Almost topping over you braced yourself on his shoulders at the last minute, Julian's laugh low and tickling the shell of your ear, "You tricky, god damn son of a-!" Your complaint died on your lips, replaced by a deep moan and the delicious push of Julian's dick nestling deep in your cunt.

"Yes? What was that sweet cheeks? Need me to stop?" He rolled his hips up and down into yours, "Doesn't seem like it to me. Not with you gripping my cock so desperately."

Honestly you should have predicted something like this from he. There was no way that Julian was gonna give up on any opportunity to make someone squirm. But again, this wasn't a bad thing, not when you could feel every throbbing inch of him slowly being thrust in and out of your hole repeatedly.

"Don't stop." You groaned as you lifted yourself up, your hands firm on his abs, legs bent at the knees so he had a very clear, uncovered view of his cock sliding in and out of you. He took a deep breath, his hands keeping your from moving.

"You look amazing like this. You were pretty before but holy shit. Seeing my cock getting sucked into that pretty little hole, having it squeeze around me every time I pull out makes you even more beautiful." It didn't feel like empty praise either, not with the way he looked at you.

Julian had a way with words, you knew that very well. He was good in bed, that much you were currently leaning. But he also seemed to value honesty, at least in this moment, you could tell his words of praise, the way he looked at you like you were the most beautiful sight in the world, mesmerized by you, he wasn't faking any of it.

Your thighs trembled under his hands . "Touch yourself, come for me."

Your fingers flew to your clit, rolling it under your fingers, moans falling from your lips.

"That's it. That's a good girl. You're making such wonderful sounds when you're getting fucked. I look forward to hearing them all night long."

"All nigh-!" Your orgasm hit out of nowhere as Julian pressed his thumb over your clit, keeping pressure on it while he fucked his cum into you, a small frown on his face as he growled and cursed. "Can we really go all night?" You breathed against his collarbone as you collapsed against him, your body shaking with every little twitch of Julian's hips.

"For you I can." Julian smiled and kissed your forehead, "As long as you keep sounding like that I can."

You hummed in thought. You expected just one round, foreplay sure, but he was really serious about wanting to keep going all night. To your delight and surprise he was being completely honest with you once again.

#the arcana #the arcana x reader #julian devorak #julian devorak x reader #julian x reader #julian devorak x apprentice #the arcana smut #the arcana fanfic #julian devorak smut #julian devorak fanfic #kinktober

[spenglersglasses]

🎙️Now I know you're asking yourself, 2 chapters in one day? ❤️‍🔥

Well yup that's right... don't get used to it. I just got on a stride and could literally not control myself...

⚠️ FLASH WARNING⚠️

Anyways once again a few disclaimers/reminders before we begin!

While I know it is canon that Alastor is asexual, in this fic he has a rare sexual attraction that develops for a certain someone in particular and is NOT aromatic. If this is something that bothers you or if you are not a fan of the Alastor/Charlie ship (Charlastor/RadioBelle) then this is not one for you my fellow smut enjoyers.

If you aren't bothered then be prepared, this will be a wild ride!

Also, when Alastor has moments of "glitching" or that infamous radio cracking to his voice, his speech will look like this (Ĝ͎͍͓͌͠l̡̟̩͍̐̐̕͞ì͓̞̗̜̇̿͝ẗ̼c̬̮̹̔̒́h͚͇́̓ ̙͕̮̣̎͑͛̚s̟͇̽͞p̫͉͆̈e̡͇͉͐̑̊e̻͞c͙͇̆̏h̺̗̭̙̑̓̄͝), I will be making a note of what is being said, so those who have a harder time can understand it, but I thought it was an awesome effect lol.

*Special shoutout to @animatedglittergraphics-n-more for the GLITCH dividers!

Now without further ado!

D̢͙̯̦̙͎̎̽̇̔̾͊̿̚͜͟A̜̱̫̭̽̌̔̄R̫̬͊̈̊͜Ļ̮̗̲̤͎̙̅͒̿͒̿͊͡Í̱̮͑́͢͜͠N͔̗̘͈̲̤̳̉̅̉̀͗̔͠͝ͅG̢̻̱͐́̆͜͠

(Hazbin Hotel)

When Alastor made a deal with Charlie Morningstar, he knew it was a chance for him to ascend the ranks. Now that it's been weeks since the events of the extermination battle, Alastor decides it's time to collect…what he didn't expect was to slowly fall for the Princess of Hell. But hey, a deal's, a deal.

Chapter 3: Put Your Head on My Shoulder

Also available HERE on AO3. Haven't started yet? Beginning HERE on AO3!

Eventually will be NSFW below the cut!!

- FLASHBACK (7 Years ago) - 

The winds snapped around him like lashes from a whip. Kissing and slicing into his skin, leaving marks of blood in their wake. A pattern of scars that would speak volumes. The great radio demon had managed to escape. Coming too close to meeting his end at the hands of that filthy screen-faced fuck. 

Alastor was seething with rage. His powers had all but dwindled down to nothing, leaving the once power overlord defenseless. Thankful that he had at least been able to take his own pound of flesh from the head of the Vees, before fleeing for his life. Now, past the outskirts of Pentagram City, he found himself. Deep beyond the inner rings of Hell. Cast out into the bowels of which even Lucifer himself had long since abandoned. 

“This can’t be happening.” he groaned, struggling just to continue on. Gradually his movements became slower. Like walking in quicksand, he struggled with every step until he was all but crawling along the ground. The sounds of screaming and radio signals crackling in his ears. And for the first time, Alastor felt truly helpless. It was then, in his most desperate hour, he heard HER voice again.   

“Oh, poor sweet Alastor… what brings thee to my garden?” she asked, waiting for his response as she remained still hidden in the shadows. 

No. Not now, Alastor pleaded inside, feeling the presence growing closer. Unable to leave, she manifested before him. Enormous and horrid, her mouth opening up to reveal her slithering tongue. Splicing itself into tentacles and covered in glowing eyes. Sprouting like sores on its spines as she came closer and closer.  

The sight of her alone could destroy even the most robust of sinners. Like a mutation, colored in shades of black, red, and white she continued evolving—changing. Finally becoming fully formed as she reached Alastor. The radio demon, forcing himself to look up at her. The entity, now appearing as a rather normal looking woman. 

Dark black hair, fading into crimson red, was long and luscious. Her beautiful face, partially obscured beneath a wide-brim black hat. She was imposing to look at. Her Long, red overcoat flowing in the hellish winds. Endless chains coming from the depths of her coats. Emerging from its checkered pattern of black and white, spreading out into the abyss and traveling to Alastor.   

“My favorite pet… Seems we have run into a bit of trouble. Tsk tsk.” she taunted. Alastor’s smile flickering into a snarl for a moment before he spoke.

“Roo! Fancy seeing you here. I—” he struggled, coughing up blood as his radio wave effect crackled in and out. His chest still aching from his wounds and his powers holding on for dear life before he finally collapsed onto the ground. The shadows and spirits he commanded, spinning around him with nowhere to go. Roo smiled, squatting down beside him. Taking Alastor’s chin in her hands and raising his gaze up to meet her. 

“Poor Alastor, letting the TV bother you again I see. You know I can’t have that… after all who else would bring me such delicious souls if not for you.” she hummed, her otherworldly tongue coming out to swirl over his cheek. Alastor knew she wouldn’t let him off that easily. They had made a pact when Alastor first arrived in Hell. The newly deceased sinner, confused and bloodied from his fall into the pit when he saw Roo had been waiting. 

Somehow, she knew he was coming. Standing by in the darkness, watching for him—ready to offer the once proud New Orleans radio host, turned serial killer, an opportunity he would never be able to refuse. Her wicked hand, held out to him, tendering him the chance to become Hell’s greatest overlord. To continue his work started on the Earthly plane. 

All Alastor had to do was agree that every soul who had fallen short of his debts, she’d be allowed on them. Alastor would have full control of the rest, using them, and his newly given powers, to ascend the ranks. To the ambitious and blood lusting Alastor it was a deal that was too good to be true. They shook on it, Alastor and Roo now bound until his death. Alastor, learning quickly that his deal would eventually lead to his death.  

While the stipulations of their agreement had worked for a time, Roo quickly grew greedy. Trying to convince Alastor to go beyond the terms of their deal. Sending her souls when no breach of their contract was made. The sounds of overlords filling his radio waves as he slaughtered them, over and over again, began haunting the rings of Hell. So much so that the mere mention of his name incited fear in their souls. 

HIs last attempt to feast on an overlord was Vox. The demon who had only nearly managed to escape, but not without first taking his swing at the radio demon. Now Alastor was hanging on by a thread. Looking into Roo’s soulless eyes and wondering if this was truly the end or if in exchange for more time, an even more binding deal would be necessary. 

After all, Roo was in fact the root of all Evil. Feeling as though she were equal, but opposite to God than Lucifer himself. A position she clutched tightly enough to bleed.

“I was so close.” Alastor stammered. His voice, weak and pathetic. It was a rare sight to see. If she were being honest, it tickled Roo to see him that way. She still needed him, however and their deal together was still very much not done. There was still more to gain from him, and Roo was never satisfied.  

Alastor suddenly felt like he could expand his lungs. A cold rush flowing through him and the pain, beginning to disappear and he had begun healing. His loyal shadow and souls, pulling themselves back inside him. The greenlight of his power radiating brightly once more. He felt refreshed—alive. 

“See now. All better.” Roo said smugly. Watching as Alastor rose up from the ground, ready to slaughter anyone who stood in his way. “Remember Alastor, you owe me.” she smiled. Winking at the radio demon. Before he could speak, he found himself somehow back in Pentagram City. 

A bit dazed and confused, he strolled down the streets just as he did before. Ready to rumble once again with Vox, after some careful planning, when he noticed that another extermination had already begun. Alastor, wondering to himself why it was happening again soon. Wasn’t only a few days ago that the angels descended to Hell, he asked himself. Sauntering over to Cannibal Town, where he managed to find a calendar hanging on the wall at Rosie’s favorite butcher shop.

When his eyes met with the date, his dials began spinning. Horns growing larger from his head in his panic. Making ungodly sounds that glitched and screeched loud enough to affect everyone traveling around him. Somehow, in the short time he felt he was with Roo, 7 years had passed.   

- Present Day -

Charlie didn’t know why, but she found herself frantically running towards Alastor’s radio tower. Crying hard, the tears spilling with every step. Angry at Vaggie for her betrayal, but even more angry at herself, knowing that she was responsible. That she had in fact betrayed their relationship long before Vaggie’s indiscretion. 

Slowly things had been driving a distance between them. Vaggie’s issues with the hotel, the revelation she was an angel—part of the extermination team to boot, and this thing with Alastor that Charlie couldn’t shake. All of it had been slowly pulling them apart and Charlie did nothing to stop it. Now here she was, running to the man who had stolen her affections. 

Charlie’s heart was raw and bleeding. Her emotions had never been so overwhelming. When she finally reached the door, she began banging, hard and loud, until it swung open. Alastor, spinning around in his chair to see Charlie looking more distressed than ever before. A sight that had unexpectedly made him feel a flicker of worry and concern.  

“Charlie! My dear, just in time for our little announcement.” Alastor beamed, rising up from the chair before coming to greet her. Charlie took one look at Alastor, standing there with what she hoped was a genuinely happy smile and hoping it was for her, when she rushed towards him.

“Alastor.” she cried, quickly burying her face into his shoulder. Alastor was taken back, finding himself unable to let go of her. Wrapping his arms around her as the princess sobbed against his coat. The sound of her cries, making him feel an unexpected pity—even sympathy for her.

“What’s wrong sweetheart?” he asked, the words feeling odd as they fell from his lips. However odd it seemed; he still meant them. Charlie, looking up at him. Her eyes, full of sadness and pain. 

“Vaggie… she… I… we…” Charlie cried, feeling Alastor unexpectedly pulling her in even closer. Both Alastor and Charlie, unable to deny feeling one another’s heartbeats. Their rhythm, matching each other’s intensity. Wondering to themselves, if the other was feeling it too. 

“Shhh…” he said, patting the top over her head, “...it doesn't matter anymore.” he assured her. Charlie felt a smile tugging on her face just as Alastor pulled her off by the shoulders. Looking her dead in the eye. “Now my dear bride-to-be… I suggest we keep the details of our nuptials between us. Heaven knows what kind of madness that might cause for your family. You know should it be revealed that you had just… owed me one.” Alastor chuckled.  

He was right. The situation was bad enough without having everyone in Hell knowing all the gorey details. Charlie nodded her head in response. Alastor smiled, taking a hold of his microphone cane and tapping it against his hand until he found his preferred frequency. 

“We have a new journey to attend to.” Alastor assured her. Sending her a wink.

“Al… what are you?” Charlie began, Alastor placing a finger to her lips. The sound of his laughter ringing out all over Pentagram City. 

“Salutations my fellow sinners. Today is a special day indeed. I know you have all been waiting oh so—patiently for the new broadcast. So without too much more suspense… I thought we might open things with a bang or should I say a bell. Wedding bells.”

The broadcast was sent out all over. Heard by everyone within the city—every sinner, demon, overlord, imp, and hellhound. All of them Wondering what the fuck the radio demon was going on about. Their answer came fast when before they knew it, Alastor asked Charlie to join him on the mic. Their ears piqued as they waited with bated breath.

“...It’s about time I settled down. Asking my beautiful, darling Charlotte Morningstar for her hand… so whaddya say Charlie, will you marry me?” Alastor asked her. The broadcast, finding its way to Lucifer who was halfway across the city in his palace. Spitting out his food when he heard what Alastor had to say. The king of Hell swatting a stack of rubber ducks across the room. Feeling like his skin was crawling at the news. Immediately searching for his phone to call Charlie. Thinking that he’d be well on his way to stopping this soon.

Back at the tower Charlie began fidgeting with her hands. “Um… uh….” she mumbled. Stalling for time while she battled herself inside. The will of her heart and mind at odds. 

She knew what she had to do, this bit was all just for show. Neither one of them wanted the rest of Hell to know the truth. The stench of it wouldn’t be good on either of them. Charlie swallowed back her reservations and looked over to Alastor. “Yes. I will marry you.”

The town was in an uproar. The conversation on everyone’s lips was only about the enigmatic couple. “Oh, I had no idea they were an item.” said one of the sinners who had stopped on the street beside a hellhound in the Pride ring. Another in the Lust ring, mentioning that they were actually perfect for one another if everyone thought about it. There was no escaping it now, everyone would know now. 

In Cannibal Town, an engagement celebration had begun. The crowd, cheering at the news of their delightful princess and Alastor getting ready to tie the knot. Rose, however, was sitting quietly on her veranda. Munching on a few lady fingers, when the broadcast caught her attention. “Hmm… Alastor, just what are you up to?” she asked herself. 

The news had even reached the depths of V Tower. Vox was sitting in his office, feet propped up as he casually watched 666 News while going over some plans. Suddenly anchor Katie Killjoy came on the screen. His attention was captured. 

“Thanks for nothing Tom, and now for more amusing news… Seems everyone’s favorite radio demon overlord and the princess of Hell are set to tie the knot. While no details have been disclosed at this time. You can be sure we will keep you up to date on their upcoming nuptials.” she reported, a glimmer of sarcasm and resentment present in her tone.

The screens around him began shorting out. Glitching and pixelating, covering them completely from left to right. Vox began digging his fingers into the control console. How? Why? 

“Alastor and fucking Charlotte Morningstar?!” he raged, instantly coming to the conclusion that Alastor was making a power play. “That motherfucker!” Vox said, ripping one of the screens off the wall. Tossing it out into the hall just as Velvette had been walking towards him. Cautiously peeking her head in the door frame, noticing Vox’s bad mood. Velvette, relishing a chance to worsen it further. 

“Hmm… What's up your ass now?” she asked. Vox practically heaving, desperately wanting to taste Alastor’s blood. 

“That noisy little fuck has managed to convince Lucifer’s daughter to marry him.” he growled. Velvette, cocking an eyebrow at him before laughing her head off. 

“Jealous?” she asked him, a big smirk on her face. Vox was ready to tear her throat out but tried his best to compose himself. 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” he growled. 

“Let him have her. Why the fuck should we care?” Velvette asked, refusing to let the news ruffle any of her feathers. Vox clearly wasn’t going to be satisfied with that answer. Angry that Alastor had managed to come up with yet another way to gain power. Thinking to himself that there was no way the princess and him were actually in love. 

“Because it gives him more control, you idiot.” Vox began, knowing he had to do something to put a stop to it. “Wonder how things will blow over once they are exposed for the frauds they are. Maybe that outdated, crackling son of bitch will be held accountable.” Vox mused. 

“Just what do you have in mind?” Velvette asked him. The TV screens, all beginning to flash with images of Alastor and Charlie. Then images that appeared like they were from cameras surveilling the city. The system, bouncing from image to image, trying to locate the two of them. Vox, laughing maniacally before answering.

“You will see. Everyone will see.” 

Charlie left the radio tower with unexpected butterflies in her belly. Her head, still however, screaming at her to run. Struggling with herself and the right thing to do. Just as the broadcast had ended, as if On cue, came the call from her father. Lucifer, insisting she get her “royal ass” down to the palace before he’d find a way to shut down the hotel. She knew he would be angry, how could he not, but not this angry. 

Alastor and her father were oil and water. There was no way he was going to accept this marriage without a fight. Charlie, deciding to do her best to convince him. Gathering up her courage and putting on a brave face. Hoping that between the hotel and her father’s house, she could come up with a believable enough excuse for him to let it go. A tall order indeed. Just as she stepped outside, she immediately bumped into someone. 

The impact, sending them down to the ground. Charlie panicked, reaching out her hand for them to take. Feeling stupid for having not seen them when she noticed the hint of wings beneath the person’s silver cloak—It was Emily. 

“Emily! Oh, shit I’m sorry. What are you doing here?” Charlie asked, hoisting the angel up from the ground and helping to brush her off. 

“Charlie, it’s so good to see you again! I was coming to talk to you about something, but gosh I just overheard some of your… um… people… saying that you are getting married?!” the angel smiled, her eyes shining with anticipation and excitement. 

“Oh ah… yeah that's right. Alastor and I. Who knew.” Charlie laughed nervously. Emily jumped at her, arms quickly flying around Charlie’s shoulders as Emily squeezed her tightly in a hug. 

“Oh gosh, that is such wonderful news and oh man I am so sorry to bug you while you are planning… but I need to speak with you.” she continued, her face turning a bit more serious than before. 

“What's wrong? Has heaven decided that—” Charlie began before Emily cut her off. The smile on her face, now practically sparkling.

“Your friend, Sir Pentious… he is with us in Heaven! He has been absolved Charlie, you did it!” she explained. This time Charlie grabbed hold of Emily. 

“What?! Are you sure?!” she asked, almost shaking the poor angel in her excitement. Rejoicing and crying as the smile on her face grew wide enough to rival even Alastor’s.

“It’s true he arrived a while ago. He’s proof that the sinners can be redeemed!” Emily grinned. 

“How? I mean I know how. Fucking Hell we did it!” Charlie cheered, the excitement sending her head spinning. She felt the need to sit down for a moment. “Wait Emily… How come you are just now telling me? It’s been months now… I have been waiting for another letter and nothing…” Charlie asked.

“Oh Charlie, that's why I had to come see you in person. Someone has been intercepting our letters. I don't know who, but I have it on good authority it’s one of Adam’s crew. Don't you worry though, I plan on getting to the bottom of it.” Emily assured her. “I have to go now before anyone gets suspicious, but keep your head up girl, you got this!.” 

“Thank you.” Charlie said as Emily disappeared into thin air. The news was powerful, just what Charlie needed to feel better about everything that had happened between Vaggie and Alastor. While she wished she had time to go wake everyone up and scream their success from the rooftop, there was still the matter of attending to her Father. The boss of Hell was waiting impatiently for his daughter’s arrival. Charlie would do well not to keep him waiting. 

By mid-afternoon Angel and Husk had managed to stumble out of bed. Husk, going straight back to minding the bar as Angel slumped over the sofa in the parlor. The night had proven to be quite enjoyable, the two of them finally consummating their affections, that up until now Husk had been loath to admit. The former cat overlord, softening up to the porn star with a big heart after all.

Angel began flipping through the TV channels. Sending Niffty off to grab him a bite to eat and occasionally making lewd comments at Husk, when he caught a repeat of Katie Killjoy’s segment. Angel’s mouth dropped to the floor. Dumbstruck with the words he had just heard from outta the old cunt’s mouth. 

They had missed Alastor’s special broadcast. Too hungover, and blissfully snoozing, after a night of unbridled passion to have listened. “Well fuck me.. You hearin’ this shit whiskers?” Angel asked, jolting up off from his spot and over to the bar. 

“I told you not to call me that… Already up my ass after one night.” Husk huffed under his breath, a slight smile peeking out from beneath his annoyance. 

“I believe you were up my ass schnookums, but seriously we got a problem. Charlie and Smiles are getting hitched. That’s gotta be a joke right?” Angel asked, cringing at the thought. 

“Charlie’s in love with Alastor.” Niffty chimed in, handing Angel over his sandwich and climbing up to sit on the bar. Husk insincerely smiled,  pushing her gently off the side of the bar. Niffty scurrying off somewhere they didn’t care to know. 

“My money is on Charlie getting herself into some deep shit.” Husk commented. “He’s no good. I don’t have a good feeling about this.”

“What are we gonna do?” Angel asked, Husk letting out a sigh. Resigning himself to having to help figure things out once again. 

“Let’s go talk to her.” he suggested, ready to round the bar and head upstairs. Taking Angel with him to Charlie’s room, when Niffty shot out in front of him. Halting them two of them mid-stride. 

“Charlie is out! Left this morning after the broadcast.” she informed them. Husk, face palming hard as he tried to quickly formulate a plan. 

”Nift, you keep watch over the hotel. Me and…Pookie are gonna go find our Princess.” Husk said. Niffty, nodding in response. With that Husk and Angel left to find her. Unbeknownst to them, Alastor had been lurking in the shadows. Over hearing their little conversation and beginning to wonder himself where Charlie had run off too. 

Deciding that he should be keeping a closer eye on her just in case. Having the budding need to protect her, when suddenly a thought hit him. If Charlie was out and the news about their wedding was going around like wildfire, surely someone who wanted to get at him might take the opportunity to use her against him. Instantly the radio demon fled from the hotel, determined to try and find Charlie before anyone else.   

Charlie was strolling down the center of Pentagram City, ready to have a one on one with her dad. Hoping to convince him that she and Alastor were a real couple. Knowing all too well that things were far from the fantasy romance she had spun in the deep recesses of her mind. As she walked, the residents of the city stopped to talk with her. 

Well wishes and congratulations, coming from all around. Her people, seeming to be truly happy for her. If only she could be happy too. It wasn’t very long into her journey, when she reached the road that would lead her to her father’s.  Unexpectedly finding herself face to face with Vox as she turned the corner. The one overlord she knew Alastor absolutely detested above all others. 

While she had hoped to avoid him, it was too late. He had caught sight of her, yelling her name from across the street. Bringing with him a flood of press from 666 News and other outlets. Cameras and reporters coming out of the woodwork to surround them. Charlie, wondering if Vox had planned this, knowing that it most likely had. Nothing would make him happier than finding a way to get to Alastor. 

“Charlie! Ms. Morningstar! I hear congratulations are in order. What are you doing all this way without your… handsome beau?” Vox asked, practically choking on the words.  

“I ah… well…” Charlie tried to answer, tapping her pointer fingers together. Overwhelmed with all the flashing lights and cameras in her face. Vox was never happier, grinning as he saw how flustered and upset she had become. It was only a matter of time before he’d get the truth out of her.

“Tell us Charlie… is it true that you and Alastor have been making it all up?” one reporter asked. Charlie’s eyebrows raised and her teeth clenched as she wanted to scream back at them. 

“There have been reports that the marriage is a sham, can you comment?” another reporter asked. 

“No that's not… I…” she said, trying to think of something to say. Something that had more weight than just telling them it was real, that it wasn’t just for show. Words that maybe could even convince her it was true. 

“Please… come on you guys. Of course Charlie and Alastor aren’t faking their romance.” Vox said, his face and demeanor suggesting otherwise. It was about that time that Lucifer had come looking for his daughter. Every television had his little princess plastered on every channel. She was in trouble and he knew it. 

By the time he reached her, so had Angel and Husk. All three of them, unable to get to her from behind the hordes of press that had encircled her and Vox. It was clear that this had all been a set up. Lucifer, Husk, and Angel, Watching poor Charlie becoming more and more panicked as the press berated her and there was nothing they could do. 

Lucifer had had enough, pushing through the crowd. Only getting about half way to Charlie when out of nowhere Alastor materialized beside her. His tentacles and horns on full display. The crowd that had been keeping her captive, backing off in terror before the radio demon came back into his usual form. Standing beside Charlie as he took her hand in his. 

Instantly Charlie felt breathless. Was Alastor actually holding her hand? What other choice did they have if they were going to keep up the facade. The small gesture was enough to send her heart pounding once again. Alastor speaking to address Vox and the rest of the crowd. 

“Oh Vox, Y̲͐Ŏ͈̮͡U̅ͅ ̡̜͘͠A̧̩̻̻̓͌̏̓̚͟N͉͓͂̋N͕̚O̢̘̬̬̎̑̐͡Y͍̼͒͗͊͜I̹̾N̗̰̝̪̩̈́͑̓͊̕G͖̰̐̉ ̜͉͇͕̊̊̇̾̏͢L̗̜̩͈̱̒̏̚͡͞Ȋ̳Ť͓̱̼̑̆T̙̣̮͈͔́̂̑͛̀Ḷ͎͑́E ̢͉̎̃F̢̦̰͉͉̀̾̇̌͠Ȗ̺C̨͕͋͘͟͡K͚͖͙̅̾̒̅͟. You have been such a poor reporter. Maybe staying in your tower is more suitable for your talents.” he snapped, sending a devilish grin Vox’s way. The overlord, wanting so badly to punch Alastor’s smug face. He knew this might be the only chance he may get to screw him over. It was now or never. 

“Well Alastor, if the two of you are so IN LOVE… why don’t you prove it?” Vox hissed. Both Alastor and Charlie, frightened by being called out on their bluff. They had to do something to prove it, but what? Her father and friends, all watching, waiting—wondering what they would do next. 

Just as Vox was beginning to feel that he had accomplished his goal, Charlie grabbed hold of Alastor’s coat. Pulling him close to her and pressing her lips to his. The crowd audibly gasped as their lips met. Alastor, too, was in shock. Finding it hard not to close his eyes to the feel of Charlie’s mouth on his. 

Was Charlie enjoying this? Was he? Alastor wasn’t sure, but he met her half way—and more. Dipping her before the crowd. His willing tongue, sliding into her mouth with ease. Dancing along with hers in the most sincere kiss Charlie had ever felt before. The princess’s eyes, opening a moment in surprise before closing them once again. Both of them lost in the moment. 

Alastor was wondering what had come over him. Never before had he felt this way with anyone, but when they kissed, it was undeniable. Something was happening to him. On the inside, Charlie too was overwhelmed, pretending that he felt for her what she felt for him. The crowd began cheering around them as the kiss was broadcasted across all the rings of Hell. Vox pissed off more than ever before as the two of them seemed to have foiled his plans once again.  

Roo laughed, the radio waves having just reached her. The news of Alastor’s engagement to the princess of Hell was now on her radar. Roo, knowing that she would now more than ever, need to keep a close eye on Alastor. “Oh Alastor, just what are you up to?” 

Notes:

Y̲͐Ŏ͈̮͡U̅ͅ ̡̜͘͠A̧̩̻̻̓͌̏̓̚͟N͉͓͂̋N͕̚O̢̘̬̬̎̑̐͡Y͍̼͒͗͊͜I̹̾N̗̰̝̪̩̈́͑̓͊̕G͖̰̐̉ ̜͉͇͕̊̊̇̾̏͢L̗̜̩͈̱̒̏̚͡͞Ȋ̳Ť͓̱̼̑̆T̙̣̮͈͔́̂̑͛̀Ḷ͎͑́E ̢͉̎̃F̢̦̰͉͉̀̾̇̌͠Ȗ̺C̨͕͋͘͟͡K͚͖͙̅̾̒̅͟- You annoying little fuck.

#another new chapter! 😱 #Hazbin hotel #Hazbin Hotel fanfic #Hazbin Hotel fanfics #Hazbin Hotel fanfiction #Alastor x Charlie #charlie x alastor #Radiobelle #Charlastor #Hazbin Hotel #charlie morningstar #Alastor #Romance #Angst #Drama #Power Play #Ren writes #vivzieverse #Canon/Non-Canon AU #vivziepop #A Deals a deal #Love is a helluvah thing #Asexual Alastor makes an exception for Charlie (non-aromatic) #Sex time with the radio demon #Unconventional relationships #political marriage #Frienemies to lovers #consensual/Non-consensual relationships depicted #flash warning

[targaryenluvs]

congrats on 200 followers!! :) could you write a super fluffy fic about reader being charles’ younger sister and finding out about her secret relationship with carlos?? <3

of course! here you goooo

The One

(you have no clue how much i love that gif, hes sooooo 🥵❤) per usual, shitty spanish n french translations and rushed ending

-

The party was in full swing at the moment.

Everyone was either stumbling over their friends' feet, tipsy or black out drunk.

You were standing in the middle of the conversation pit, looking around for Carlos. Right now you were on a yacht somewhere in Bahrain and that was all you really knew, not that it matter that much.

As you spotted your boyfriend, leaning on the railing while seemingly deep in conversation with some girl.

And you weren't exactly the jealous type, (or so you proclaimed yourself) but the fact that in any other circumstance you would've been fine with Carlos talking to other women let alone jealous sucked according to you.

Because what annoyed you was that you were expected to be okay with it.

Why? Perhaps the fact that your last name ends with the ever so prestigious 'Leclerc'.

Y/n Leclerc.

Youngest of the Leclerc family and only girl.

And who most defintely wasn't secretly dating her older brothers teammate and best mate Carlos Sainz.

Now you hadn't meant for it to happen.

Rewind to 2021 Monaco, although it may not have been the best, for your brother it had been great for your boyfriend.

A bunch of Ferrari employees and coworkers of his as well as drivers went out to a nightclub to celebrate. Charles obviously wasn't feeling super up for partying so he encouraged you to go along instead since he claimed you clung to him all the time rather than being on your own.

And as the drinks flowed and conversation waned the last resort for the night was dancing. And when an elated, smiley Spanish man dragged you to the dance floor despite your drunken protests you found yourself having more fun then you had expected. And you also found yourself viewing Carlos in a different light. Literally. With the clubs dark lighting and sporadic flashes of colours you found yourself in awe of him. Podium finished look good on him. And you weren’t the only one adapting new feelings. Carlos hadn't stopped looking at you the whole night. Which a certain Australian and French man caught notice of early on.

"Why dont you just talk to her rather than eye fucking her from across the table?" Daniel slurred into Carlos's ear as he proceeded to down the rest of his Estrella Galicia. To which he was met with a prompt elbow in his ribs.

Pierre wrapped his arm around Carlos's shoulder. "She's been looking at you too, and if you don't make a move soon I will. Because she looks like a fucking god in that dress Sainz."

And that sentence alone was more than enough to bring him to his feet and you to your knees.

That night ended in scattered feelings and shallow breathing.

Neither of you had meant for it to become anything past one night. It was meant to be a reliever of tension, not starter.

Everytime you visited the paddock he'd be there. Leaning against a doorway with a smirk on his face as he saw you.

Or the slight brush of your hands when walking past eachother.

Everything made you want to scream.

And you eventually did.

Again just not in the way you planned.

And it rolled onwards from there, Carlos and you becoming official in November after months of sneaking around.

From the media, paparazzi, friends, family, everyone. Mostly because there was one certain person, important to both of you that was a wild card. In the sense of the two of you had no clue how Charles would take this.

And it all led to here.

As the girl continued to laugh and touch just a little too much you decided to storm over.

"Mi am- Y/n. How are you?"

He asked as he turned around to face you fully.

"Good, I'm good. Great in fact. How about you babe?"

If this moment wasn't as serious as it was you would've burst out in laughter at the way Carlos's eyes bulged as if they were threatening to pop out of his sockets.

"Mi amor, ¿qué estás diciendo? Estamos en publico?"

"My love what are you saying? We're in public."

"Hi it's nice to meet you, I just need my boyfriend since we're going home. Enjoy your night!" You blurted out as you linked arms with Carlos.

"Copain?"

"Boyfriend?"

You were met face to face with a fuming Charles. His hair was sticking up in every what way from the humidity around and his face was bright red.

"I- uhm."

"Frère, s'il te plaît, laisse-moi t'expliquer avant de supposer-"

"Supposer? Supposer quoi? Que tu ne sors pas seulement avec mon coéquipier mais aussi avec mon meilleur ami?"

"Charles-"

"Et toi ! Tu sors avec ma soeur, tu te moques de moi Carlos ?"

"Brother please let me explain before you assume-"

"Assume? Assume what? That you are not only dating my team mate but my best friend as well?"

"Charles-"

"And you! Dating my sister are you fucking kidding me Carlos?"

"Can we please go inside? I don't want a scene. S'il te plait frère?"

"Please brother."

You were hoping that maybe the yacht would go through rocky waters, perhaps giving you and Carlos a shot at escaping Charles's fury.

But of course, someone had it out for you.

Since now you were sat at a secluded kitchen island with your secret boyfriend sitting next to you, holding your hand under the table as your elder brother paced back and forwards across from you.

"How long?"

Carlos looked at you, asking for permission before divulging everything the two of you tried to keep hidden. With the nod of a head all the details of Carlos and yours' relationship was practically laid bare, naked.

Charles had his head in his hands.

"Frère tu vas bien?" You asked cautiously.

"Ou- Non. C'est juste, je ne sais pas. Je ne sais pas pourquoi c'est arrivé. Je ne sais pas pourquoi tu me l'as caché pendant si longtemps, j'ai tellement de questions mais je-" Charles a divagué. alors que vous faisiez le tour de l'île et l'enveloppiez dans une étreinte chaleureuse.

"Brother? Are you okay?"

"Ye- No. I just, I don't know. I don't know why this happened. I don't know why you kept it from me for so long, I have so many questions but I-"

Charles rambled on as you circled the island and engulfed him in a warm hug.

As you let go Carlos stood behind you, arms draped around your neck as he kissed your forehead.

Ballsy move mate.

He let go and stepped infront of you.

"Charles, mate. I know this is super big and sudden for you but for us it is not. We have been waiting for so long for you to know so we didn't have to hide it anymore. We shouldn't have waited so long to tell you. I shouldn't have. But you need to know that I love her. I love your sister. So so much. To much. Ever since we've been together she's been there for me through every and everything. She's always been patient with me, my job, working out, everything. And I will spend the rest of my life trying to make her feel at least half as special as she has made me. I love her, always."

"I appreciate knowing that there is always someone to watch over her when I can." Charles said as he brought Carlos in for a hug.

"But if you hurt her in the slightest, I will hunt you down, Arthur, Lorenzo, Maman and I. Got it?" Charles jokingly threatened causing you all to laugh, & you couldn't help but admire Carlos.

He looked perfect. His soft hair, his gorgeous brown eyes, white button down and black pants. It was simple but he made it look amazing. He was so gorgeous. And as he laughed with Charles, at that moment you knew, there was no one who would even come closer to beating him.

He was the one.

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #carlos sainz x reader #formula one #formula one x reader #f1 #f1 fic #daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo x reader #pierre gasly x reader #scuderia ferrari #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x y/n #carlos sainz imagine

[nobedofroses]

December 9th

pairing: Javier Peña x fem!reader

warnings: fluff, alcohol consumption, smut (unprotected p-in-v sex)

words: 821

a/n: little continuation of the last Javi blurb bc fireplace! photo prompt from @toomanystoriessolittletime's winter writing challenge ❄️

more Javi, Full List

🌨️🌨️🌨️

The first time Javi had lit the fire in the fireplace, first time ever since it was your first year living in the house, you had been ridiculously proud and happy. You’d said it called for a champagne toast, but all you had was wine and you were nearly as happy with that. So happy, you ended up having two glasses in about thirty minutes and started doing what you did when you got tipsy: loving on Javi. 

“You’re so smart and talented, you got the fire going so fast and it’s still going still,” you told him, managing to climb onto his lap from where you had been sitting on the ground next to him without spilling your wine.

“It’s not that hard, sweetheart, I can teach you next time in case you ever want a fire before I get home,” he told you, trying to get the wine glass from you, but you just wrapped your arms around his neck so it was behind him. And so you were very, very close. 

“And you’re so humble and sweet, I’m so lucky you’re my man, all mine and all man,” you dissolved into giggles but before Javi could say anything, you were kissing him. 

You were urgent and your mouth tasted like sweet wine, but Javi knew you were more drunk off of the holiday spirit and getting to fully utilize your new house than you were from the wine. 

It wasn’t long before you had set the wine down of your own volition, Javi had tugged a blanket off of the couch, and he was fucking you on your back with your knees pressed to your chest. 

You had kind of expected fast, hot and heavy, take your breath away sex, but that’s not what you got. This was even more intense, his slow strokes and the way it felt like he just kept going deeper and deeper until he was just a part of you. 

He was kneeling with one hand braced on your breast, leaving the other to relentlessly rub at your clit, with the same slow, smooth pace his cock filled you. It almost didn’t feel like enough until without warning you came. Gasping and moaning his name, pleasure ebbed and flowed through you in never-ending waves until Javi followed and filled you with his hot cum, using his last few thrusts to grind into you. 

A minute later while he was coming down, he used practiced moves to get you on top of him again without pulling out because he knew you’d make a fuss if he did it too soon. 

With the fire, you didn’t even feel the need to grab a blanket, totally relaxed and at peace. Eventually, Javi got up to fetch a washcloth and you dozed while he did, not a care in the world. 

You were nearly fully asleep when Javi came back and he pulled on his pants before sitting back down to help you clean up a little, the washcloth thankfully still warm. 

“You know you’ll have to get up soon, sweetheart,” he told you but you just swiped your hand vaguely towards him. 

“I’m sleepin’,” you told him, settling back again to relax more. 

Except that’s when you heard a strange sound: the deadbolt in the front door unlocking. Eyes widening in panic, Javi stood up, yanked the blanket from under you and threw it over your naked body. 

“Pop!” you heard Javi exclaim from half under the blanket. Then hurried footsteps, Javi hastily guiding him into the kitchen for a beer, and his father questioning why Javier wasn’t wearing a shirt. 

You dressed as quickly as you could while they were out of the room, then made a big show of joining them in the kitchen, making sure to say you had been upstairs folding laundry. 

Whether he believed the two of you, you didn’t know, but he didn’t say anything and that was all that mattered. You were able to muddle through the rest of the interaction, which was actually an invitation to dinner the next night, without any further hiccups and he was on his way before long. 

Once you were back in the living room, sitting on the couch with your wine in hand, you said, “What is he even doing out at this time of night? Shouldn’t he be in bed?” 

“Honey, it’s only just now 8:00pm,” he told you and you gaped. “Guess we were fooled by the sun being down.” 

“Maybe we should just never fuck in the living room again,” you said thoughtfully, because obviously you didn’t want a repeat of the terror that had went through you when that door unlocked. 

“No, I’ll just take the key back,” Javi said quickly and you laughed, knowing that you were in for a long night of negotiations on when and where exactly it was safe for you to fuck.

🌨️🌨️🌨️

#javier peña #javier peña x reader #smut #fluff #blurb #nobedofroses #snowy fics 23 #stephswinterwritingchallenge

[caspianthegeek]

I saw a Twitter post saying: “when the distant morally grey antihero knocks on the hero’s door in a rainstorm gravely wounded and says “I’m sorry… I didn’t know where else to go” before passing out and waking up fully bandaged.”

Aziraphale is injured. He goes to the being he is always safe with.

The soft tapping at the door could hardly be described as a knock. In the past, Crowley would have ignored it. But his heart ached. Anything to distract him from the constant tearing of Aziraphale’s absence was welcome. He dragged himself from his throne and to the door.

Throwing the door open had been a mistake. It was the only support for the angel who stumbled forward and instead fell into Crowley’s arms.

“I’m sorry,” Aziraphale whispered as he dragged his gaze up to meet the demon’s beneath a bloodied forehead. “I didn’t know where else to go.” With the words uttered, his eyes slid shut and he sighed quietly.

For a moment, Crowley was terrified the angel had come to his door only to discorporate in his arms, but he could feel Aziraphale’s steady heartbeat, and there was a shuddering breath. <i> What the actual fuck.</i>

With a concerned glance out the door, Crowley lifted him and slammed it shut. He spared a moment to cast a quick protective spell as he made his way down the hallway, angel carried in his arms. There was so much blood, and he realized not all of it was from Aziraphale’s corporation. The sight of golden ichor made the demon’s stomach drop. What had— no time. Address the problem, then ask questions.

Crowley carefully stretched Aziraphale out on his bed, a part of him wistfully thinking this was not how he’d expected that moment. The angel whimpered quietly. Concentrate, he scolded himself as he let his focus slide to Aziraphale’s true form, always there a little beyond the earthly realm.

The torn feathers horrified him, but he hurriedly pushed past. The demon searched finding the wounds and one by one winding his true form around where golden blood fell from Aziraphale. Black coils tightened around the resting angel, providing pressure to slow the flow and he hoped it would be enough to allow healing. By the time he was done, he was entwined so closely they could have been one. But finally, the flow of grace had stopped, held in place by demonic scales. Crowley’s mind raced, a million questions flittering and being discarded. Anger welled through him for a time, but with nowhere to direct it there was no option but to let it flit away.

Days snuck by as he kept Aziraphale together but with each passing day, the angel’s presence grew stronger. Until one day he became aware again.

Crowley had been staring out the bedroom window, plotting revenge when he heard the soft oh fall from Aziraphale’s lips. The angel beneath didn’t writhe, trying to break free. If anything he curled into the embrace of his demon, as if snuggling deeper into a warm blanket.

“It’s safe,” Aziraphale murmured. “I did it. You’re safe.”

Realization washed over Crowley as he took in the injured angel. He knew his words should be kinder, more thankful for whatever it was that Aziraphale had accomplished. All that could escape him was, “You <i> idiot.” </i>

“Argue about it later,” Aziraphale breathed out. “Rest now.” And with that, he sank back into slumber and Crowley was left once more keeping watch with only a hint as to what had happened.

When he was sure the bleeding had stopped fully, Crowley allowed himself to pull back and away despite the sleepy protests from the angel. He wrapped a tight blanket around Azirpahale and miracled healing ointments and clothes.

The red blood that stained Aziraphale’s clothing worried Crowley far less. The outfit was a heavenly uniform that Crowley removed and discarded before slipping the angel into soft, flannel tartan pajamas. He carefully wiped any remaining blood away, his fussy angel did so hate to be messy. The few spots that required bandaging were easily dealt with.

Crowley waited. As the sun rose and set, he curled next to Aziraphale’s side. At times he reached out, ensuring the wards he’d placed around the flat were still there and strengthening them. Despite the promise of their safety, someone had done this. They could still be coming.

It was a week before Aziraphale blinked himself awake. A soft, “Crowley?” as he searched the room for the demon.

“Here. I’m here,” Crowley blurted as he took the angel’s hand.

Aziraphale’s brows drew in, concerned. “You should be angry with me. You’ve every right to be, I’m so sorry I had to make it feel real—” he broke off as Crowley brought his hand up and kissed the back of it softly. “They were watching. The Metatron,” Aziraphale murmured as he turned his hand and cupped Crowley’s face. “I am so sorry.”

Crowley had never excelled at staying angry. Even at their Mother, all he wanted were answers. And he had no hope of holding out against the angel in front of him. He leaned down, this time carefully allowing Aziraphale the choice to cross the final distance.

When the angel wrapped his arms around Crowley’s back pulling him in, the demon was still surprised.

And then he had no thoughts as their lips met. Instead of hungry desperation, it was soft and gentle. Aziraphale poured his love into the kiss and any questions Crowley had fell from him as there was only the soft touch his beloved.

When it broke, the angel pulled Crowley down into the bed next to him, clearly loathe to let go.

“What happened?” Crowley asked as he pulled Aziraphale into his arms.

“The Book of Life. Metatron was going to write you out of it,” Aziraphale confessed. “I wanted to tell you, to work on it together. I needed you, but I couldn’t let you be in danger.” A few tears slipped from his eyes and Crowley hurriedly wiped them away. “So I went. I became the Archangel they wanted. And when they finally trusted me enough to leave me unsupervised… I went to the repository. I destroyed it, Crowley. It’s gone. It can’t hurt anyone ever again,” Aziraphale finished with a satisfied grimance. “You’re safe. We’re safe. We can leave, go wherever you want.”

“How… didn’t…” Crowley stuttered, “Wouldn’t that destroy life?”

“No different than destroying a spell. Life continues, as She meant,” he kissed Crowley’s nose. “And I am here with you, as I meant. Where would you like to go?”

“Can we stay just here for a bit?” Crowley whispered as he leaned in for another kiss.

Aziraphale’s only response was a pleased hum.

Originally posted on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52436122

#good omens #aziraphale/crowley #caspian writes #ineffable partners #good omens fic

[darkhymns-fic]

Poor Reception

Husk is forcefully brought to the radio tower, where he finds Alastor injured after the battle. He's weak. He's vulnerable.

What better opportunity to finally be free of the Radio Demon's chains than right now?

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel Characters: Alastor/Husk Rating: M Word Count: 4531 Mirror: AO3 Notes: I wrote more for this ship? I'm unwell for them. Once again, a note that this fic contains depictions of unhealthy relationship dynamics, past abuse, and violence. More tags are on the AO3 mirror.

--

The thing was, Husk was still bleeding when Alastor called for him. So, he didn’t appreciate the urgency.

The cuts over his arms and his right cheek stung, not to mention both of his wings were aching badly. One of the angels from the battle had grabbed at them, seeming particularly pissed off that he even had wings in the first place. (Not like it was his choice to begin with). It had at least been satisfying blowing its face with his newly upgraded dice, even if a few of his feathers had been ripped up, and his clothes were now splattered with the gold that flowed from the angel’s severed neck.

Well, not like anyone got out of a fight that was worth fighting for unscathed.

The hotel still needed to be rebuilt, for it was nothing but rubble. Support beams stuck out of the ground, and all those fancy chandeliers from the lobby had shattered all over, glass shards mixing with stone and wood. Husk was careful, even if his wings were basically out of commission now. He picked up broken furniture and the remains of his bar, watching as the alcohol had already seeped into the dirt. In a more desperate time in his life, he might have tried saving some of his booze as best he could, but it was easy to shrug it off now, to shoot a smirk at Angel Dust when the guy made dirty jokes as they worked, and to even give Charlie a reassuring smile as she helped him out. He dared to think it was all going to be okay.

Husk didn’t notice the shadows gathering when he turned a corner, too focused on the cleanup.

He didn’t notice how they formed under his feet like a dark whirlpool, and only the sense of dread that ran along his fur even gave him a hint to what was happening. Too slow, for the long tendrils he recognized had reached up, curling around his legs, grabbing at his wrists—all to pull him straight down.

The last thing he saw was Niffty, the little demon still carrying around her golden bloodied knife like a trophy, stabbing at skittering bugs she kept unearthing. She turned, hearing him choke, her giant eye reflecting the blackness that was their boss’ shadow magic.

“Niff!” was all he could get out. A hand, taloned and strong, clamped over his mouth, muffling his screams.

Niffty simply blinked. He saw his own terrified face in her gaze. Then, she smiled, jumping up and down maniacally. “Ooo, I want a turn too! Let me go next!”

Suddenly, he was struck blind.

These were one of those times he thought he was going through a second death. The complete darkness. The silence. The immovability. His arms and legs stayed locked in place, but he could feel the pain of his wounds that hadn’t fully healed, all while a hand kept his mouth shut like an iron muzzle. It was hard to tell if his eyes were open or closed, for there was only the dark, pulling him through hidden places that he might never return from.

It was endless. It was impossible to deal with. Husk had no other choice to even do anything else. The shadows wouldn’t let him go, wouldn’t even let him scream, no matter how much his teeth felt like they were going to crack from the strain.

This was it. He was truly dead, and it was far worse than anything else Hell had to offer.

And then he was spat out of the ground like garbage.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Husk coughed and gagged, grabbing at his side as fresh wounds reopened. Somehow, swearing in the name of the Lord still hadn’t set him on fire, like he’d expected to the first time he did so. He was too nauseous to keep in mind the list of acceptable curses, already vomiting up some of the pancakes the king of Hell had made them all just a bit earlier. All his earlier cuts went back to stinging like a bitch again.

To the right, he saw a cackling shadow on the far wall, its antlers taking crooked shapes like the branches of a rotten tree.

“You gotta be joking me… I told you I hate going through that shit!” Husk wiped his chin with the back of his hand, grumbling all the while. It took all his effort just to slowly pull himself to a sitting position, balancing his shivering body on his knees. “If you want me somewhere, just use the phone! Or send a goddamn telegram or whatever. Not this nightmare express!”

The shadow of Alastor continued to laugh silently, its smile stretching and making gaps in its mockery of a face. It even gave Husk a little wave before going back to laughter, bending its back in painful contortions.

Husk grimaced, hating what he now knew: that Alastor was indeed still alive. Fantastic. Couldn’t have even stayed in bliss for one day that maybe, somehow, he might finally be free. He was such an idiot.

His eyes were still getting adjusted after being engulfed in shadow for who knows how long. It was only then he realized the lighting wasn’t normal—at least as normal as it got in Hell. Blaring red light coated the entire floor and walls, but it flickered, occasionally making his boss’ shadow disappear and reappear like a magic act. Husk directed his gaze to the ceiling, finding several broken fluorescent lights, the ‘On Air’ neon sign having two letters working at most.

Husk felt the cold metal beneath his feet, finally noticed the shattered windows around him, and the cramped space. Yeah, he’d been here plenty of times. The same radio tower his boss would materialize wherever he fucking felt like it. But along with the hotel, it had also collapsed. The tilt of the floor was already giving him a headache.

The shadow moved suddenly, stretching bigger and bigger until it reached the length of the floor. Husk scrambled away from letting it touch him a second time. “Ugh, what do you want now?”

He kept his eyes on the shadow, but it didn’t reach for him this time. Instead, it slid towards the front of the broken radio tower, where the console had been broken in half, the dials and buttons having fallen off.

He only then noticed Alastor’s body leaning against its side, legs stretched out on the floor. His own shadow finally melded with him.

Husk froze. He didn’t know what to do or think. He worried if taking another breath would break the image right in front of him.

There was blood pooling around Alastor, staining the floor.

The lights kept flickering, reflecting off steel-toed shoes, the frayed jacket that still hung around the Radio Demon’s shoulders, and the broken mic cane where each half was clutched in a separate hand.

Husk waited a long beat before he finally decided to try standing.

Easier said than done. His body still hurt from where the shadows had grabbed him, including his jaw and teeth. But he tried to get himself to one foot, watching the blood from his cuts drip down his arm, reaching his knuckles.

Eventually, he stood. His own shadow from the red light stretched out to Alastor, falling over both his boss’ face and torso. Even in the dimness, he could see the long gash across the chest, ruining the button-down he always wore. But that same chest also rose and fell, slightly. The red light around them pulsed like a struggling heartbeat.

“You’re a complete fucking mess,” Husk muttered.

The room was quiet except for the constant electric buzzing, but Alastor didn’t respond. Maybe he was truly knocked out, otherwise Husk would have felt his neck tighten, brought back down to the floor as another threat to his soul loomed over him. But there was nothing, just Alastor sitting there, broken.

And healing, Husk realized. He was healing very, very slowly.

It was a mistake, but he took a few steps forward, avoiding contact with the broken glass. No other nightmare shadows played around in his vision, nothing but his own, which slowly engulfed Alastor until all that red darkened. He saw the demon’s eyes were closed, his head lowered to his chest, still clutching so tightly to the broken mic.

What was he even doing right now? Why did his throat dry up and his hands shake so? Especially if his boss was barely breathing—

Alastor raised his head. The sound of sparks was faint, but there. Eyes lit up in their familiar electric crimson.

“Husker…” He said the name as if dragging teeth across flesh. “Such a… s-surprise to see you…!”

A stutter. Husk wasn’t sure if he had ever heard Alastor stumble over a word in his life (or death). What radio host worth his salt would make such a rookie mistake as to stutter?

Alastor’s grin was tight, resembling more of a grimace. Maybe he realized, too.

Husk let his eyes examine Alastor again, from the fresh blood still blooming over his chest, to the jagged ends of his broken mic. The head of it crackled, picking up only noise and static. No hint of distant voices or music—no hint of those usual screams Husk would sometimes catch through the walls as he slept.

“Adam got ya, huh?” He took another step, even if the feeling of terror didn’t exactly pass. But he never claimed to be a smart man.

There was a sharp glint in Alastor’s eyes—a furious spark of electricity. It passed instantly, Alastor keeping up his smile despite his radio act going off the rails.

“Now, don’t… don’t be spreading some false rumors. I just… appear to be having some technical difficulties… Please stand by, I need… Please stand by…”

The tone in Alastor’s voice was unnerving. His boss was usually on top of his game, but this was something else. In all their time together in Hell, he had never seen his boss so beaten in both body and pride.

Husk clenched his hands, claws furling and unfurling rhythmically. “So, did you bring me here to help you out? Keep you company?” He held out his hands in abject confusion, because it wasn’t like he was good at either of those things. “What’s the deal?”

He expected some inane nonsense from Alastor, even if the situation wasn’t the usual. But the other was still holding tight to the broken mic, still smiling as if it was the last thing he could do to keep up the routine.

But there was a flicker along his expression, an interruption over the airwaves. “Bring you… Is that right?” He shook his head minimally, still laying most of his weight on the radio console.

Husk felt his fur rise on their hackles. “Is this another stupid fucking bit of yours? I didn’t come looking for you. You’re the one who summoned me here with your shadow shit just now!”

Alastor chuckled, but there was a curious twitch in his right eye. It made the static rise higher, sputtering in pieces. “Husker, you and…your poor attempt at humor. I didn’t…ask for you…”

His head started to throb. He could still barely forget the claustrophobic feeling of being dragged into darkness, hardly able to breathe or even know if he fully existed anymore. It hadn’t been the first time Alastor had done it to him either, but now after he did it again, he didn’t even remember?

Was tormenting Husk just fucking instinct to him?

Alastor was now muttering, which was a whole new realm of lunacy Husk didn’t want to understand. “Just experiencing—” Loud static that could wriggle its way into eardrums. “Experiencing technical difficulties. Please—” More static, like an ocean wave that was steadily growing bigger with each passing moment. “Please stand by…”

The mic kept glowing then dimming, bright and then dark. It reminded Husk of some sort of lighthouse, one that only illuminated red, making it that much harder to see and find the rocks just below.

He didn’t see his boss’ strange shadows anymore. But it must have slept within him, using the very last of his strength to keep Alastor intact. But then why was he even brought here? Just to sit and watch?

Alastor was still deeply wounded. The guy could barely even look at him, his words coated in awful static, as if the dial was stuck on an AM station. Husk lowered his ears, hating every second.

He didn’t have to keep listening to this.

Husk reached into his pants pocket, wondering if he’d be lucky enough. He felt the familiar edge of the card and pulled it out. One from his old deck that he had been allowed to keep, despite it all. Except now, it was coated in the same silver lining that the angel’s weapons had, courtesy of Carmilla Carmine.

He’d already used the rest on the angels, their numbers so great, it ate through his entire deck except for one. The constant blinking of the red light revealed it to be the Joker card. He didn’t want to think too hard on that meaning.

But, he could kill Alastor right now. It would be so easy.

He took another few steps, quietly, and he’d have to thank the stupid form his body took in Hell for that. His feet barely made a sound over the metal floors, and soon he was standing over Alastor, the shadow of his wings covering both his boss and the radio console.

Alastor’s breathing was hollow, blending with the static. The shaking in Husk’s limbs finally seemed to subside, seeing none of the magic coming to Alastor’s fingertips. No sight of roving shadows or poisonous green. Even the antlers on his head remained small and unassuming.

Just aim the card at his neck. Then it’ll be over.

Husk didn’t understand his own hesitance, barely giving any second thoughts to the angels from before. He’d ruptured several torsos and blown up some heads. Alastor was just another body to get through—and the wound he suffered from Adam showed he wasn’t invincible. He could die, just as much as the rest of them.

He had to hurry it up.

But maybe Husk was breathing too loudly, or his feet did make a sound, probably finding a weakness in the metal to make it creak. Because Alastor picked up his head again, aiming his bright red eyes at Husk. The static increased, loudly. Desperately.

The light roved from Husk’s face to his hand. Blood was leaking through his boss’ smile, staining his shirt even more.

“Well, now…” he started to say, the dial turning to find a stable wave. But the static never left. “Just… what… are you even trying to do?”

Husk said nothing. He stared down at the man who had spoken of ripping apart his soul like it was nothing at all. He gripped the card more firmly between his fingers.

“You… do you think…” And then Alastor lost a bit more composure, a cough leaving his damaged throat. The static jumped, the electric shock of it making Husk wince. “That you have the actual gall to—”

“I didn’t ask for your opinion.” He’d had enough. Husk took another step, feeling the sharpness of the card against his skin. “I’m cutting out of our deal, whether you like it or not.”

He didn’t know what reaction to expect from Alastor—the man had several screws loose, ready to turn from charming to outright psychotic at the drop of a hat—but even Husk was surprised at the sudden laughter that tumbled from his mouth. It wasn’t any of his favorite audience tracks he loved playing, such as after he’d taken care of another Overlord, the screams and applause overlayed. It was his own, and it would then garble and crescendo in unsettling waves, even as his eyes fixated on the card Husk was holding.

“Such big words…” Another cough, the blood now dripping down his chin. “From a drunken has-been who had to come to me—”

Husk had always been a gambling man, and much of his gambles had always bit him right in the ass, his current situation very much a point to that. But after everything he’d gone through, after all the bloodshed and the humiliation of that leash around his neck all hours of the day, Husk took the gamble and stepped past the invisible line that was Alastor’s boundaries.

Not like the man had ever respected his own.

His free hand grabbed at a thin neck, his knee placed against the still bleeding chest, knowing it would hurt Alastor. Hoping it would. And from the flickering of Alastor’s eyes, along with the constant static, it really must have stung. Badly.

No shadows reached out to grab him. No chains. Alastor was too weak. Whatever shadow magic he’d used from before had been the very last of his strength.

“I’m not that drunk to not be able to saw your neck off with this.” Husk held the card high, its edge serrated, made to cut through flesh easily—one of the few things he was able to retain since his own Overlord days. “I can make it a quick, clean cut or slow enough for you to feel every muscle snapping. Your fucking choice.”

But even with the threat of a second death once again, still healing from his other wounds, Alastor kept his grin. It widened, the blood flowing more freely.

Something about it was more deranged than before.

Husk tried not to let the age-old terror seep in, the kind of terror he had never been able to drink away. Alastor couldn’t do anything to him. It was different now. He had the upper hand. His fingers pressed against the other’s neck, feeling the man swallow.

“Well?!” Husk barked, leaning forward, putting all his weight on his knee, hoping it would crack more bones, burst more vessels. “What do you have to say?!”

Alastor opened his mouth. The blood kept flowing from an abyss that was endless. An abyss that swallowed all sound and was constricting.

“Husker…” Alastor lingered over the little pet name he had given Husk all those years ago. He held it between his teeth, slid his tongue over the letters like they were irresistible. “Are you having stage fright?”

The claws, still clutching that throat, twitched. The bastard. Even on the verge of death, he still had to find a way to mess with him.

Maybe it was to prove it to himself, but he let his claws pierce through the flesh just so, watching as Alastor’s eyes fizzled and sputtered. Anything to make it hurt more. “You losing your memory? I was more on the stage then you ever were.”

Alastor’s shoulders hunched up. He leaned forward, pressing into that knee despite what must have been unbearable pain. But no, this guy had always liked pain, didn’t he?

“You always make excuses.” No shadows came out of him, but it didn’t stop Alastor’s face from transforming into an abomination, one barely seen in the dark. “Don’t keep your audience waiting…!”

The blood from Alastor’s mouth fell on Husk’s hand. Wet, hot, and burning. Husk froze. He stared back into the red, the light of it piercing right into his skull.

He didn’t understand what was happening. This should have been easy. With how often Alastor had demeaned him, had humiliated him, had broken his very bones for his slip-ups, torn up his wings for amusement, and would yank at his chain so hard he thought his own neck would snap from the strain—

Slicing the demon’s neck was a mercy out of everything.

Suddenly, all those awful memories came flowing back to him. He had learned to shut them away with drink, and gambling, and any other vices that fell into his lap. If he’d heard the screams from the tower through his walls, he’d just pull the blankets over his head. If Alastor gripped his chin during a conversation, to “Ensure you’re paying attention, my dear friend,” Husk would just roll with it if he felt a certain tension in those fingers. There were times he could push Alastor away, or shout back, but the demon was unpredictable, and the way the dice rolled lately had not been in his favor.

Except now. Except right fucking now. He didn’t have to remember the pain, or the threat of death hanging over his head, or the sick ways Alastor would invade his boundaries. He could tear this man beneath him apart with just his teeth and claws alone, before finally rupturing his heart with the power of angels bent on revenge. He could eat his flesh and feast on his intestines and see how Alastor liked to be on the other side for once—!

All the noise in his mind was so much, hypnotized by that red, by visions of blood and gore and viscera,        that he didn’t notice the hands gripping his wrist. They had let go of the broken mic, pressed their talons into his fur.

Then there was the weight on his neck, the links entwined around Alastor’s fingers. They clinked together delicately, almost gently.

It was enough to terrify Husk out of his mind.

And the way the chain pulled him in, as it always did, to fall into that abyss where the smell of rotten meat came from. The way a hand reached up to grip at his cheek, drawing him further down into that same darkness where he can’t scream—

Stop. STOP.

Husk leaped back, his wings outstretched to lift him away from Alastor. Somehow, miraculously, the chain dissipated, like a fog. He stumbled once he landed, gripping onto the card that was still clean of any blood. His wings instinctively furled around his body, trying to forget the hands on him and how their touch skittered across his fur, leaving him confused and horrified at himself.

From such violent thoughts of bloodshed that only Alastor would revel at, to wanting to sink against him.

The red lights of the radio tower continued to flicker. There was a monotonous drone, one that wriggled inside Husk’s skull like a maggot, searching for his soul. He just barely lifted his eyes to see it come from that broken mic, the one that Alastor had gone back to holding tight.

Or had he ever let go? Had Husk just been hallucinating the entire thing? Yet another look at Alastor, at the eyes that bore right through his, made him want to shudder. His wings furled tighter around himself, but he already felt so exposed, right down to his very ribs.

“What did you do to me?” he finally asked, barely able to go past a whisper.

In the background, he thought he could hear soft music play—a piano ballad, one that was played in those old swing clubs from a time he could barely remember, along with a woman’s singing voice. It would then drown in that static, overwhelmed, but it was getting stronger. Alastor was slowly coming to himself.

And the demon laughed again, the filter over his voice lessening just enough for Husk to not mistake his words. “Nothing that you didn’t want for yourself.”

Husk remembered the bloodlust, the texture of Alastor’s skin against his hands, and he wanted to vomit once more.

He didn’t, swallowing any bile as he scrambled back, not caring when he touched broken glass. “Shut up! I can’t even do this now?! I…” His throat was tight. “You’ve ruined everything for me.”

Alastor let his tongue seep out, like a black leech that had found its way to land, before retreating to the dark. “No, I only came to pick up the pieces.” The chuckle reverberated out of him, deep. “Such a naughty liar you are.”

Husk’s claws pierced the floor. The sensation was awful. Any euphoria he felt before from fighting off the angels, from the smiles of his friends, from the very thought that just for once he would finally find freedom—gone.

Alastor wasn’t near him, but he remembered the feeling of his hand on his face, the stroke of fingers through the fur, (the vice-like grip over his mouth to keep him screaming) all as the leash kept pulling him and his will along with it.

“Oh, sweet Husker. You can’t kill what you love.” Said so easily, with such glee that it made Husk’s vision spin. Even so, Alastor’s face stayed imprinted in his memory forever. “But don’t worry. This’ll be our little secret, and don’t we already share so many by now?”

Husk glared at the Radio Demon, but he did so like a cornered animal, hiding behind a worthless shield, remembering the taste of blood on his tongue.

“No one has to know a thing,” Alastor continued. The static wrapped around them both, dripping with mercury. “Let’s make all our new friends so proud.”  

Another deal, verbally made within the shattered tower. No one else needed to know of Alastor’s temporary weakness here, his close brush with second death, the loss of control he had, if only for a moment. And no one needed to know Husk’s true nature.

Secrets that would bind them together, strangling, choking, until the very end.

Husk felt a sharp sting on his right palm. He looked at the card he kept holding, at how he cut himself across the heart pattern over his fur. The front of the card was stained.

He gritted his teeth, felt tears prick at his eyes. He quickly put the card away in his pocket.

“Just hurry and fix yourself up,” he muttered as he got to his feet. His wings still stayed around him, gripping onto them like a tattered coat. “Charlie’s probably waiting for you.”

He felt the tears run down his cheeks. Great, now he was crying. For fuck’s sake.

Husk tried turning away, not wanting Alastor to see again how he had this hold on him, how easily he could do that while still bleeding out the floor. But the music kept playing, occasionally skipping a note, to the point that it was almost pleasant.

Sometimes, if he pretended, he could forget the awful things when a nice song played every once in a while.

Husk risked a quick glance, and saw that Alastor was no longer looking at him. Instead, the eyes of the Radio Demon were directed to the floor, to the broken mic cane, where the song echoed out from its tinny speaker.

An intermission.

Husk didn’t want to stick around any longer.

He found the stairs that led down from the half-standing tower. His hand gripped his wings still, before finally going down, and down, and down.

But before he left, he thought he saw familiar, convulsing shadows on the side. Their outlines were tinged in green, their teeth jagged and sharp. One had Alastor’s face, which stared right at him with the utmost glee.

And it winked.

#hazbin hotel #husk #alastor #radiohusk #fanfiction

[voxmortuus]

I'm back baby! Got another one for you to help keep your flow going, if you would oblige me. ♥ And I have another one for Ben, but I won't put it in the same request.

Austin Butler's Elvis. It's his earlier days when he first started to become popular and his name was getting around. It wasn't unusual for him to keep some company on the road from time to time, and maybe the reader was his company one night. Could be left open to lead to some sort of heartbreak plot follow up, but of course that is always up to you.

►PAIRING: Austin Butler!Elvis x Fem!Reader

►UNIVERSE: Elvis (2022)

►WORDS: 1.4k

►SUMMARY/PROMPT: See Above

►SONG INSPIRATION: Hound Dog - Shonka Dukureh & Baby, Let's Play House - Austin Butler

►TRIGGER WARNINGS: Pure Smut | One-Night-Stand | Oral [Male Reciving] | Face-slapping | Spitting | Vaginal Penetration | Rough Sex from Behind | Choking | Hair Pulling | Spanking | Oral Ejaculation | Rough Oral | Female Masturbation | Demanding Dominant Elvis | Implied more than one fuck session | PLEASE TELL ME IF I FORGOT ANYTHING!!! I want to make sure readers are fully aware of what they are getting themselves into when they read this…

►NOTE: Sorry if this isn't what you expected, or had envisioned yourself, I apologize. But I hope you enjoyed my vision.

►IMAGE & DIVIDER CREDIT: @nyxvuxoa

►My Master Masterlist

It was exciting, it was a rush, and you were like a kid in a candy store. He was someone important, and he was going to be something big. Maybe it was the idea of someone up and coming wanting your company for the evening, maybe you felt like you shared a moment. Little did you realize that to him, you were just someone who was passing his time, an empty night of emotionless, unattached, carnal pleasures.

You decide to get a little risky. Leaving your dress in your car, you're wearing nothing under your black box coat. Your heels echo on the concrete slabs of the motel's walkway. Your hair is perfectly set and placed as always, and ruby red lips, and slightly winged eyeliner, like a cat decorated and made your eyes stand out.

Letting out a slightly shaky breath you walk to his door. Tap, Tap, Tap you knock lightly, but just loud enough for him to hear, not loud enough for you to announce your presence to the entire motel wing. You chew at the bottom corner of your lip. Hearing him come from the back of the room. You feel your heart picking up. Surely it was exciting.

You feel this fluttering in your chest, the fluttering in your gut, sure, emotionless, and meaningless, a hollow night of raw fun, but that didn't mean you weren't excited about it in some way. Your chewing on your lip only grew harder, before you felt this rush of heat wash over you the moment that door opened up.

"Well, ain't you a sight for sore eyes. Come on in Darlin'."

There it is, that flutter, all over. You give him a smirk, and you walk in. He knew what you were there for, just like any other that had come to his motel room door at night dressed like that. He knew the signs, and he wanted the company. Didn't like really being alone that one.

Sure, maybe you expected some sort of conversation, maybe a deep-rooted genuine moment, maybe you even were expecting something well-mannered, and even a hint of passion. Sure, he'll call you Baby, tell you how good you look, maybe even kiss you like you're the most important thing in the world, but you're just going to be yesterday's flavor and tomorrow is a new taste. But tonight, that didn't matter to you. Tonight, you were going to be someone special.

Hearing the lock latch behind you, you give a small smirk, chew on your lip, and turn to look at him. Searching his face, shirt half open, you lick your lips and smirk. God damn was this man a fuckin vision in his own unique way.

Wasting no time, you run your hands up his legs, brushing your hand against the front of his pants, feeling that slightly excited cock twitch under the palm of your hand you gaze up at him and smirk. Sliding your hands up a bit more and unbutton his pants, slowly unzipping them and letting them fall to the floor.

"You show me yours Darlin', I'll show you mine." He smirked and licked his own lip after running his hand over his face a moment and he leaned in and took your hand and pulled you a little closer and untied your coat and let it fall open. "Well aren't you a delicious snack."

"Oh, no I think you're the snack, Mr. Presley." You give a soft chuckle.

"Elvis Darlin'. Just Elvis." His accent rolled off his lips, and you ate it the fuck up.

"You're the snack, Elvis... and I'm going to eat you right up." You smirk getting to your knees after letting your coat slip from your shoulders.

Biting your lip you keep your gaze on him as you move your hand up his leg under his white boxers feeling him in your hand, you smirk, and slowly pull his boxers down just enough to watch him spring into attention. You let out a soft breath as you grip him in your warm, delicate hand. and begin to slowly work the flesh-coated hard rod in your hand. Reaching up with your free hand you finish unbuttoning his shirt, he lets it fall to the floor.

Letting out a groan he smirks that signature smirk, drops his head back, and lets out a soft groan. His jaw slacked as your perfectly painted ruby-red lips met the tip of his cock and you started to slide him a little further into your mouth. Flattening your tongue you press it against the underside of his cock and your lips tighten around him. Breathing through your nose you press him deeper.

His hand finds its way to your head, placing it delicately against the back of your head he presses your head down a little more, his hips trusted against your lips. You groan, creating a vibration against his cock as you pick up the pace, your red lips leaving a ring around him as he gets a little rougher.

Taking your mouth off his cock, he looks down at you, giving you a smirk, he taps your cheek a moment. You give him this smirk, a slightly crazy smirk and he knew. His hand slaps your cheek lightly, testing it. He smirks when you do, and then there it was, a strong hand across your face.

Leaving a red mark on your cheek. He grips your face and assists you to stand. Looking into your eyes he smirks as he forces your mouth open with the pinch of his hands against your cheeks, followed by him spitting on your mouth he throws you to the bed, flips you over, slaps your ass with a firm slap, and within a matter of a few blinks, winces and moans he dives his cock deep between your wet, wanting lips.

Gripping the bed sheets in your hands, your breathing hitches and you close your eyes and lets out a heavy moan. His hips move fast against you, thrusting hard, thrusting fast, and pressing deep. Elvis the Pelvis indeed. Your moans bounced off the walls.

His hands slide up your sides and reach for your shoulders and yank you back before he grabs the hair on the back of your head and grips tightly before the other hand wraps around your throat. While he grips your hair and throat tighter his body slaps against yours.

His hand moves from your hair and swats at your ass again, and again, and again, watching the way he slips into you, and watching the way your ass bounces as it slaps against him, and slaps against his hand against your now pinking flesh. It was a beautiful sight in his eyes.

His slapping ceased against your ass as his hand snaked up your spine, and both hands wrapped around your neck, giving it a squeeze as he used you, completely used you, like a living, breathing, naturally lubricating fleshlight. Your moans escaped passed his fingers as they burst through your lips and bounced off the wall and back at the both of you.

Feeling himself getting close to a finish he pulls himself from you, and he brings you to your knees. "Touch yourself." he demands. Nodding your head you stick your hand between your legs and he slips his cock between your lips again. Tasting yourself, tasting him, your fingers move over your bud quickly, and you slip your fingers into your wet hole as he uses your mouth, a grip on the top of your head, your hair gripped firmly.

As he thrusts harder into your mouth, you feel him hit the back of your throat as he slips his cock faster between your lips, thrusting. The rawness of his motions causes you to lose yourself, your fingers move quicker, and you moan against his cock as he himself gets closer to his finish, you are riding yours. Pulling his cock from your mouth he quickly spits in your mouth and shoves his cock back into it as he unleashes hot ribbons of his release between your lips. Feeling it hit the back of your throat.

Your eyes flutter shut, as some slips past your lips, but swallowing the rest, like the good girl position he has placed you in. Feeling some drip onto your chest you run your finger up your chest and place your finger in your mouth as you lick it up. You smile. Tonight was going to be a good night... after all, you just got here.

#austin butler smut #austin!elvis #austin!elvis smut #elvis presley imagine #elvis presley x reader #austin butler elvis #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler imagine #austinbutleredit #elvis smut #austin butler x reader #austin butler #austin butler fanfic #austin butler fic #austin butler fluff #austin butler x you #austin!elvis x reader #elvis presley smut #elvis x reader #elvis 2022 #elvis presley #elvis fic #elvis movie #elvis gifs #elvis imagine #elvis fluff #austin butler gif #austin butler x fem!reader #elvis #VoxMortuus

[belamourwriter]

ꜱᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴍɪɴᴜᴛᴇꜱ [ʙᴜᴛᴛᴇʀꜰʟʏ]

ᴜɴᴇᴅɪᴛᴇᴅ ᴠᴇʀꜱɪᴏɴ ✔️

ᴀʟʟ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀɢᴇᴅ ᴜᴘ!

ɪᴢᴜᴋᴜ ᴍɪᴅᴏʀɪʏᴀ x ꜰ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ (ꜱʜᴇ/ʜᴇʀ)

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 2.6ᴋ

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʜᴇꜱɪᴛᴀᴛᴇ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴇɴᴅ ᴍᴇ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛꜱ! ɪꜰ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ'ꜱ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴡʀᴏɴɢ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜɪꜱ/ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀᴅᴠɪᴄᴇ ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴇɴᴛ. ɪ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ɢᴇᴛ ʙᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ ᴀᴛ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ <3

ᴘᴛ. 1

◇────◇────◇────◇────◇

Your head was spinning, feeling like the world could crash at any time. Your tongue stuck out, gripping your hair in a makeshift ponytail to prevent it from getting in the way. What happened last night? Did you drink that much? Your eyes fell shut; your body fell limp against the toilet seat. 

“Y/n? Are you okay?” Mina’s steps sounded loud, too loud for your liking. You grimaced at her voice, your fingers gently tapping against the stall’s wall to let her know where you were. Mina let out an exaggerated sigh as she stepped closer to the stall you found yourself fighting for your life. “Y/n, how much did you drink?” “Enough” You felt liquid rush up your throat, lifting your head immediately to let all the alcohol flow out of your mouth. Even Mina gagged at your mouth's unholy sounds as it let out all the harmful substances. You groaned quietly, reaching out for toilet paper to wipe your mouth. Your eyes continued to stay shut, fully knowing the strong ick you have about vomits. It was not until you flushed the toilet that you finally opened your eyes, pushing yourself away from the toilet to rest against the wall. “And here I thought I was the most drunk at the party,” Mina joked, opening the stall door to look at you. 

“Oh, you’re not wearing your hero suit?” You cringe at those words, though what you really wanted to do was throw a toilet paper roll at her head. “I can’t really be on my best hero mode if I’m hungover now, can I?” “Well, that’s true. Anyways, did you end up with Bakugou last night?” Bakugou? What is she on? “You were so adamant about it. You even asked Midoriya if Bakugou had a huge dick or not in the closet!” “WHAT” You practically screamed at her, your eyes widening at her words. “Fuck. Fuck, what are you talking about?” “You were that drunk,” she murmured before turning her back to face you, “You played seven minutes in heaven last night, but before that, you told me that you no longer liked Midoriya but instead wanted to get dicked down by Bakugou. I don’t know what else happened other than what Midoriya told Shoto. Bakugou is here, by the way.” You watched your friend disappear; your mouth opened widely at her words. 

What. The. Fuck. 

Everything bothered you. The white lights in the room made your sore eyes beg for darkness, your eyelids closing at any chance. The A/c was too strong, making your body shudder under the cool air that spewed out of the vents. Your chin rested on the palm of your hand, your other arm on the table to ensure you don’t fall forward in case you become too tired in this meeting. “Midoriya, Welcome! We weren’t expecting you here!” Your PR team leader chimed, her eyes glistening at the sight of the greatest hero. Whether subconscious or not, you couldn’t help but cringe at how she pulled her shirt downwards, her posture fixing afterward. You rolled your eyes, turning to look away from Deku. How could you? How could you look at the man you desperately wanted to be noticed by after telling him the biggest lie last night? It was irrational to even think of the possibilities you may have ruined, even if they might’ve not existed.

“Right, sorry. I just had some information relating to a villain this agency is after. I was actually hoping to–” “Bakugou!” You whipped your head in the direction of the door, eyes wide. This is just what you needed, great. Ada’s attitude shifted the atmosphere. Her bubbly expression and desperate body language made your blood boil. You aren’t the kindest person, not when you’re hungover. All you genuinely want is to be home in your comfortable bed with anime playing in the background, but you’re stuck at work.

Deku’s body tensed at the sound of his rival’s name, his fingers rolling into themself to form a fist. He didn’t bother to hide his discomfort when his eyes rested on your beautiful figure and watched your every move. It angered him how you ignored his existence but didn’t seem to think twice to look over upon hearing Bakugou. What is so good about Bakugou? Why won’t you notice him? Bakugou’s shoulder brushed against Deku, his boots heavy against the laminated floor as he made his way towards you. You sat up straighter, your e/c eyes staring deep into his crimson ones. This man didn’t bother to stand straight, but instead, he slumped further down until he was eye level, his hands shoved deep in his pockets as a smirk formed along his lips. “Hello, Y/n.” His voice echoed in your mind, the way it sounded so raspy. You didn’t notice the way your body reacted towards him. You felt frozen, almost stuck in time as you barely muttered a hello. Bakugou smiled for a brief second before standing properly, his voice increasing with every word, “Everyone get the hell out before I blast you out of this damn room.” 

Your team looked like they could make a pool from their sweat upon hearing Bakugou’s voice. You would not accept that; this team is your family, whether you like it or not. They listened to your complaints and admiration and celebrated your victories. Your hands slammed against the table loudly, “Bakugou, get out. Get out right now before I force you. “B-Butterfly!” Ada’s hand covered her mouth, watching her favorite hero confront one of the top heroes in the world. Bakugou turned his head to look at you, his crimson red eyes darkening at your reaction. “Waste of fucking time.” He shot back, turning his body to leave, but before he walked out the door, the following words made your heart ache.

“Useless quirk, useless hero. Stay at the bottom.” 

“Everyone. Out.” 

The chairs screeched against the floor, feet shuffling their way out of the meeting room. You dropped onto your chair, your hands quickly covering your face as you practice breathing. “In,” you’d whisper as you inhaled, “out,” and exhale. You didn’t stop there, continuously breathing to keep the tears you had stored in your eyes from spilling. What an idiot. So self-assured, so self-centered, so sadistic for hurting a fellow hero. Your body flinched upwards at the sensation of large yet gentle hands against your shorter. Your hands slid down your face, exposing your eyes to the world's harshness. “Butterfly?” 

God, his voice soothed your aching heart. It sounded like harmonic music playing against your ears. His face was filled with indescribable emotions that made your heart debate blissful joy or unbearable pain. “Butterfly, are you okay?” Midoriya feared the possibility of saying the wrong things. He didn’t want to watch those tears spill. “Huh? Oh yeah, I’m okay.” You forced a smile, shrugging his hand off your shoulder. You couldn’t bear to look at him, especially after what Mina said. “I’m sorry about last night. I was drunk, and I didn’t know what I was saying” You forced your smile, though your mind was too occupied second questioning your abilities as a hero. 

Midoriya also forced a smile with you, taking this opportunity to pull a chair beside your own to claim for himself. He sat down silently, his hand now moving away from your shoulders. “Y/n, I’m a little surprised at your reaction. Bakugou was practically throwing himself at you right there, not that I blame him,” The man mumbled the last part, his cheeks turning a beautiful shade of pink, accentuating his freckles more. He prayed that you didn’t hear the last part, but the side that had fallen in love with you sat on the edge of the chair with puppy eyes, hoping you would finally notice his desperate need to love you. “You call that throwing himself at me? That’s funny.” You shook your head again, cringing at the thought of getting fucked by Bakugou. Yeah, he’s hot and fit, but not your type. “Well, how often do you see Bakugou get so close to a girl’s face with a smile? If I’d say, he’s down bad,” “You’re going to make me cringe more.” Midoriya laughed. He laughed a little too loud for his liking, his hand reaching his neck to squeeze and massage his skin. “You-You did ask me if I believed whether or not his cock is huge. Now you’re cringing at the thought of him?” Midoriya would be crazy if he didn’t admit his confusion now because that’s what’s going through his head. 

Your face became a steaming hot pot at his words, your hands instinctively smacking against your cheeks. “Ohmygod, I am so sorry about that! The truth is that I don’t want to get fucked by him. God, not even in my dreams. There’s someone so much bett-” “Better? Who?” Too fast, Midoriya. His need to know was too fast, and you might catch on. He didn’t even notice the way his body gravitated towards your own. He sat near the edge of his chair, his legs spread wide open. His elbows rested on top of his knees, his eyes profoundly staring into your own with intent, confusion, and desperation. You were too naive to understand his body language. Your mind screamed to be noticed by him, not even realizing that was the very thing he had done for the past years. You never considered how he spoke about you in interviews, even if it finally took three years to talk again. You never noticed how he analyzed your quirk and physical abilities throughout your shared years at U.A. He was obsessed with you, but you believed he was too good for you. 

Your eyes took a quick glance at him, how he sat so close to yourself, how his body faced your own with attention. The way his lips rested in a flat line, a look of concentration among the rest of the emotions he was feeling. “W-Who? Uhm, uh,” You stuttered, leaning forward subconsciously. Neither of you dared break the staring contest, both so competitive. “I can’t say.” You breathed, stealing a peek at his lips with a hint of desire. How would it feel to kiss him right now, right here? They look so soft and delicate that it makes your spinning world stop on its track. “Why’s that?” Midoriya was determined to get it out of you. He needs to know. He needs to know who he is competing against.

“Because-Because I–I’m hungover right now. Yeah!” Seriously? That’s the best excuse you could come up with right now? You quickly began to bite the inside of your cheek in nervousness, hoping he would believe your half-truth. “You’re lying, butterfly. Your leg is bouncing, and it looks like–” He leaned closer, his face inches from your own, “that you’re biting your cheek right now.” What a confident man. In his defense, his heart is thudding so loud in his chest that he might pass out at any given moment. It takes a tremendous amount of courage to behave this way. Still, he doesn’t want to be as timid as he used to be back in U.A. You swallowed at his closeness, immediately laughing nervously before placing your hand on his face to shove him back a little. 

That was all in vain as he sat closely like a stone. 

“What!? Are you accusing me of being a liar?” You laughed nervously, retreating your hand from his face after failing miserably to push him back. “I’m actually suffering the worst hangover of mankind right now. That’s not a lie” You need him to back off a little, make him budge. He wouldn’t. Midoriya began to smile sheepishly, his hand moving to cup your face. Internally, he was screaming inside like in high school when a girl would accidentally fall on top of him.

 “Y/n, who do you love?” 

“What?” You can’t think straight. His hands felt so gentle against your own as he held your face. Part of you wished you had lowered your hands after smacking your cheeks to feel his touch against your face, but the other didn’t mind this. “Okay. How about this,” Midoriya stood up from his chair. His hands pulled your own away from his face. He quickly scanned the room with his green eyes, spotting a closet. He didn’t hesitate with his next move. He promptly pulled you upwards from your chair, his hands moving onto your shoulders as he began to push you toward the closet. “Seven minutes” He opened the door, lightly pushing you in before stepping in. You stood dumbfounded, confused, but…Excited? “What?” You turned to face him, the darkness easing your stinging eyes from earlier. This closet was smaller, his body touching yours. There wasn’t much room to do anything other than stand. 

Midoriya’s hands found your face again, his eyes adjusting to the sudden darkness. “You have seven minutes, butterfly. Seven minutes to speak,” He mumbled, his thumb gently caressing your cheek. You wondered what your next move should be. Do you lie? Do you tell the truth? Or do you stand with the man you worship here, body against body? The man you dreamed about every night, wondering how his rough-looking yet soft hands would feel as they explored your body? “Six minutes.” He whispered. He was no better than you. His mind rushed with all the possibilities you might take, but his favorite possibility right now is you kissing him. Would you finally notice his desperate need to love you? Would you finally make him the person you could call lover? His face was red, and his legs felt like they could give out on him. He needs your love, your attention. He needs you. 

“Why wouldn’t you notice me?” He finally broke the silence after his mental timer dropped to five minutes. “Do you have any idea how crazy I am going right now? The way I wanted to punch Bakugou’s face last name in envy?” He won’t hold back. He needs to let it out. He needs to let it out even if you don’t feel the same way. “Five minutes, butterfly.” 

You felt your body tremble slightly. What do you do? “Deku…I–” You wanted to speak so badly. You wanted to let him know everything. The way you would admire him from a distance. The way your hand touched your body at the thought of him, or how you continued to think that maybe one day he would send you a text message. “Why didn’t you notice me?” Midoriya’s eyes widened, his hands dropping from your face. “What?” “Why didn’t you notice me? Why didn’t you reach out to me? Why are you doing this now?” You felt desperate to understand his actions, his words. “Butterfly, you don’t watch hero interviews, do you?” He chuckled, his hands finding their way onto your waist now. “Or the way I stare at you any chance I get? How about the fact that I kissed you back when you thought I was Bakugou last night?” You felt your words get stuck in your throat. Did you kiss him? 

“Two minutes, now.” Midoriya needs to know your next step. He’s getting nervous at your actions. Why aren’t you saying anything anymore? Why are you frozen right now? Is this all in vain? You closed your eyes, pushing your body upwards with your toes until your lips connected with his. It was his turn to freeze, his mind going completely blank. “Deku, I always sought your attention.” Your hands snaked around his neck, pulling him impossibly close, “I always watched the way you would fight against villains or the way you would smile at the civilians even if you were covered in your own blood. I watched you from a distance become the number one hero of the world. You just seemed so far ahead from me….” Your lips continued to dance with his. He felt fireworks with your lips. 

“I love you, Deku.”

“I love you, Butterfly.”

#deku x you #deku x y/n #deku x reader #deku x fem!reader #mha deku #midoriya x reader #midoriya x you #midoriya headcanons #midoriya izuku #izuku x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #izuku x y/n #my hero academia x reader #bnha izuku #bnha midoriya #mha fanfiction #mha x reader #mha izuku #mha midoriya

[goorehound]

Hello!! Been stalking through your works (hehe), saw your "dating Mary hcs" post, and this caught my attention:

"Banter is one of his favourite things about being with you. Random and especially bizarre insults thrown back and forth makes it all feel easy. Granted sometimes he can be a Grade A Dick and get himself benched on the couch for the night, but that’s rare, and almost all of his bickering is playful and downright adoring."

Now I need a scenario in which he does indeed get banished to the couch one night and tries to make it up to the reader in the morning, pretty please! -🎂

This took me so long but I promise I was so excited to get this one out. The “fight” part dragged out much longer than I expected but the flow took me where it took me, ya dig?

This was fun to write, thank you for the request shawty.

And thanks to @frankenfaandom for brainstorming with me and practically giving me this fic on a plate when I blanked on how to start it off.

Mary’s Fuck Up

Mary x GN!Reader - 1,317 words

~

Crawling up to plant your hands on either side of Mary’s face, squishing the cheeks together as you straddled his lap and pulled him close. Your expression didn’t waver, relaxed but serious, not even when he made a confused and disgruntled squawk of disapproval.

“You smell awful.” You told him evenly, finally cracking out in a grin as you planted a wet and smacking kiss on his forehead, ignoring his hands flapping around trying to get you off him. “Get the fuck out of my bed and go shower.”

“Jesus Christ, I thought I actually did something.” He clamped a hand over his chest when you eased back to look down at him. “You’re gonna fucking kill me. You’re going to give me a heart attack. I almost just died.” He prattled on.

“I’m dead serious,” You laughed and slid off of him to sprawl out in the empty spot opposite him. “You smell like you just climbed out of a dumpster and bathed in piss.”

“What do you mean?” He asked indignantly. “I do not. I smell like I always smell,” The metalhead grumbled as he turned to smell at his shirt. “You like how I smell.”

“I like how you look.” You patted his chest lovingly. “I tolerate how you smell.” This was paired with a cackle at his fully offended look, him rolling over to settle between your legs did nothing to quell the burst of laughter.

“Yeah, well, maybe I like how you smell and tolerate how you look.” Mary threw back petulantly and ridiculously, and you bit back your laughter into bubbling giggles instead.

“You fuck me for how I smell, Mare? That’s kinda weird.”

“Maybe I do.”

“You called me beautiful an hour ago.”

“Well. I’m a liar. I lied.” Mary settled down more heavily on top of you.

“Maybe I’m ugly, but at least I don’t smell like a porta-potty.” You lazily draped your arms over his shoulders in return.

“Maybe I smell bad, but at least I don’t have a crooked nose.” His hand came up to pinch at your nose, and he must’ve missed how the mirth dropped from your eyes as simultaneously as your heart fell to your stomach. Which was almost just as hurtful as the comment. It wasn’t like he had room to talk, he’d busted his nose a few times and it wasn’t fucking straight either - but he knew that your nose drove you crazy. He knew that you’d fretted over it. He couldn’t not know that was a pretty big blow to your self esteem.

“Get the fuck off, Mary.” You grumbled, content to shove him in the direction of the shower so you could forget the stupid comment. He wiggled your nose lightly, then his brows furrowed in concentration, and his hand dropped.

“The fuck are you getting all bitchy for?” Mary asked as he leaned up a bit higher, and fuck he could be such a dick. Who says that?

“Mary. Get off of me.” At least he complied quickly that time and pulled back to fall on his ass on the mattress in front of you. You didn’t feel like you needed to explain why that just wasn’t cool. You’d been willing to drop the nose comment and let him know later to not make that sort of joke, but being made to feel like your reaction was disproportionate?

Like you were out of line for getting irritated?

“The fuck just happened?” Mary glanced around as if some apparition might come forth and explain to him where he’d crossed the line.

No such thing happened, obviously, and you instead got up to start changing to get ready to sleep. “Can you just go shower?” You threw over your shoulder. “We’ll talk after.”

“You’re fuckin’ moody tonight.” He threw back as he pulled himself off the bed to head to the shower, and he didn’t deign your responding: “Fuck you.” with any sort of acknowledgement.

You stewed for a while, shutting the lights off and pulling the blankets up to your ears. There was a lot of tossing and turning, replaying the events and getting yourself worked up all over again. By the time Mary was coming back in, freshly washed and hair damp, you were not nearly in the mood for him sliding into the covers behind you and tugging at your waist.

“I don’t want you in here right now.” There was a pause. A deep breath.

Lips brushed over your temple and he squeezed your waist before rolling out of the bed and fumbling around in your closet for the spare blanket. “M’kay, baby.” He agreed quietly, and then he was out.

As you should have expected - sleeping without him was awful. It sucked. The first fifteen minutes were nice, the space from the cause of your irritation out of sight had you feeling a bit more relaxed and able to collect your thoughts. But stirring a few times and reaching for him to come up empty handed? Yeah. That was a bummer.

By morning you were over it. Prepared to talk it over but not holding any of the previous nights bitterness, you were out of bed and shuffling into the lounge room as soon as you were awake enough to function.

The couch was empty, but there was a blanket and pillow still messily taking up residence - so Mary couldn’t be too far. He wasn’t exactly a morning person and it seemed way too early for him to be out the door. Which would be fine. It was fine. If he also needed some space, that was cool, you didn’t mind.

You edged your way towards the kitchen, embarrassed by the rush of relief when you smelled fresh coffee and let your nose guide you.

Mary was stressing about something on the counter, there was a fresh pot of coffee, and he seemed completely unaware of your presence. You watched him hunched over something and stirring it, curiosity piqued. Mary Goore was the furthest thing from a chef that you’d ever seen in your life, and you were suddenly worried about wether or not you’d actually replaced the fire extinguisher.

“Mare?” Rough with sleep, your voice barely carried through the kitchen. Apparently it was more than enough to catch his attention, as he spun around with a bowl and whisk in hand. The expression of guilt on his face was more surprising, looking like a dog who’d been caught mid shit on the carpet.

“Whatcha doin?” You asked after an extended silence where he offered not a word.

“Making pancakes?” Mary looked miserably at the bowl he was stirring. “Hopefully. Uh, I thought I’d - you know, breakfast in bed type dig. Didn’t think it would take this long.” The bowl was left forgotten on the countertop as he wiped his hands off on his boxers and worried at his lip.

“I fucked up?” He offered, and you closed the distance to press your face into his neck. Predictably, his arms came up to cradle you as his cheek rubbed itself against your hair.

“I fucked up.” Mary said this more steadily this time. “I also fucked up the pancakes.” You laughed at that and pinched at his bare waist gently.

“I’ll run and grab us breakfast and you can get back in bed?” His neck craned back enough to look down at you, ten fingers sliding high enough to cup the back of your head. The eye contact was a bit more intense than you’d anticipated.

“I’m sorry. You can tell me exactly where I pissed you off when I get some food into you.” The man’s voice was soft, his eyes bouncing around to take in your face. Large hands stretching to brush his thumb over your cheek only moments before you turned to kiss his palm.

“That sounds good, Mare.”

#mary goore #mary goore fic #mary goore x reader #ask #request #repugnant band #fic

[boliv-jenta]

@misspearly1 this is what happens when I read two of your incredible fics, featuring Joel and Arthur, in one day!

More Than Welcome

Joel Miller x f!reader. Arthur Morgan x f!reader.

WC: 1.3k

Warnings: Written in the unholy hours. Smut. Unprotected sex. P in V sex. Brief anal. Oral m!receiving. Voyeurism.

When Joel asked you to accompany him South to check on a rumour that some of Marlene's Fireflies had set up shop somewhere else, you hadn't expected it to be all smooth sailing. The ride itself would be hard, there was tough terrain to tackle. There were pockets of Infected and Hunters, around the cities and bigger towns to dodge. You'd expected a rough trip, and an even rougher time if you found the Fireflies.

What you didn't expect was to be riding Joel's cock while another man watched. Joel's stubble scraped the top of your tits spilling out of your bra. His horsed moans muffled as he pushed his head in between them. He had been palming them roughly, his thumbs rhythmically dragging over your nipples. When he felt the soft walls of your pussy tensing towards your release, his strong hands grabbed your ass instead. Widening your hips allowed him to thrust deeper inside as you as you bounced on his length. Sex with Joel had never exactly been vanilla. Since the two of you had agreed to a friends with benefits arrangement, neither one of you wanted to admit to having romantic feelings for the other. So the sex reflected that, there were no lingering kisses or caring caresses, just fast and rough stress relief.

Coming around Joel's weighty girth while another looked at you with lust filled eyes was something else, it felt dirty, empowering and mostly, just plain hot. The arousal had practically dripped from you when the idea was brought up. Somewhere between the third and fourth round of moonshine and a conversation about Bill and his adult magazine collection, your host had confessed to missing the days when porn was easy to access. A handful of innuendos and a couple of immature dares thrown about had lead to you getting down on your knee to take Joel into your mouth. It took a little longer to get Joel standing to attention than it normally did. The warm heat of your mouth coaxed his limp cock to life. Once his blood was flowing you sucked him had until his full girth was near choking you.

Joel was a stubborn as a mule, there was no way you could convince him to do something he didn't want to. Fucking you in front of someone else wasn't exactly a regular Tuesday, he could be forgiven for having a little stage fright. You on the other hand had no reservations. As much as you cared for Joel, from the moment you laid eyes on Arthur Morgan, you wanted him. The man was an honest to goodness cowboy. A 6ft 5, broad, denim clad, ruggedly handsome cowboy. He ticked many of your kinks.

Joel slipped out of your wet heat to spill his load over his stomach. When your highs had subsided, Joel lifted you to your feet. "Your turn."

Arthur had been quietly watching the two of you, his drink still in hand, he looked entirely unaffected by the whole thing until he stood up. The front of his jeans were deliciously strained. The outline showed how large he was all over. The sight had you too distracted to fully register Joel's words. Arthur held his hand out to you. "Right this way, Ma'am."

"Wait, what?" You wondered as Joel's muscular chest met your back guiding you down the narrow hall to what you assumed was Arthur's room.

Joel's breath ghosted across the shell of your ear as he spoke. "I want to watch him fuck your tight little hole. I want him to know what I get to have whenever I want." His hand came around to cup you as he spoke.

Turning in his arms your lips met. The kiss was charged with so much more than just lust. This was the closest Joel had come to declaring any feelings for you beyond his friendship. By the time you made it to his room Arthur had already stripped down to his underwear, his bulge was ever more impressive now only framed by the thin fabric. Giving Joel a parting glance you stepped toward the cowboy who eagerly swept you up into his arms like you weighed nothing. His lips found yours briefly before he laid you on the bed. Stacking some pillows underneath your hips, he spread your legs wide.

"Look at you. So damn wet, Baby. You're gonna take my cock so well." He hissed as wrapped his hand round his throbbing length. Lining himself up he pushed inside, the stretch of him was so much.

"Easy, girl." His hand came up to pin you in place. "You can take it." He pushed further in.

Curses spilled from your lips as he filled you completely. "There you go. Such a good girl." He rewarded you with a molasses slow roll of his hips. The head of his cock dragging against that perfect target. You whimpered when the moved away from it.

"Ssshh. It's alright I know what you need. Imma give it to you." His hands pushed on the side of your knees, opening you to him to the point where you were only connected by his cock. He began to slam into you at an upward angle. Joel's hands pressed down on your waist, holding you in place. While the cowboy fucked you so hard that you saw more stars than there were above his sprawling ranch.

Joel was nearly bucked off as the power of your orgasm nearly folded you into two.

"Jesus Christ!" Arthur exclaimed, his thrusts became sloppy before he quickly pulled out, shooting glistening white come all over your stomach. Including some on Joel's hand, which you wasted no time in licking off. As you sat up on the bed, sucking the last of Arthur's release off Joel's thumb, Joel looked down at you with a near feral intensity.

Arthur chuckled next to you, gathering his clothes. "Why don't you two make yourselves at home. I'll see you in the mornin'."

As soon as the door shut behind you Joel was on you, sliding his thumb out only to replace it with his tongue. Threading his hand in your hair he used it to throw you head first into the mattress. Your hips rose reflexivity, Joel caught them in his hands pulling you back so he could filled your freshly pounded cunt from behind. "Dirty fucking girl. See how good that pussy is? He nearly shot his load clear across the room. That felt good didn't it? Taking his big fat dick?" When you didn't answered right away he spanked you hard. The pained burned pleasure into your skin.

"Yes! Yes, it did. Just like yours feels so fucking good." He twitched inside you at your words.

"Yeah? Is that why you let me fuck you? Why you let me take this perfect little pussy?" His long, deep strokes sped up.

"Yes. I need you, Joel." Your breathless confession spurred him on.

His hips picked up speed Jackhammering into you."Fuck. You've got me. Always."

"You've got me too. Oh Joel!" Another orgasm rocked you.

"Yes. Mine. Fucking mine." He gasped out before running his thumb through the slick dripping out of you. Using it to lube up your thigh ring of muscle, he slide his thumb in for a moment.

"God, yes Joel." You moaned your permission.

Slipping his cock out he lined it up with your back enterance. It only took a few passes through the vice like chanel for him to come inside you. Load after load marking his claim on you.

Nothing about this trip was expected but it was more than welcome.

More here.

#joel miller #arthur morgan #the last of us #rdr2 #joel miller x f!reader #arthur morgan x f!reader

[soothinglee]

Vecnas' Curse

Steve Harrington x gender neutral reader

summary: reader finds out the truth, everything seems make believe, Steve provides them comfort.

warnings: angst, bad attempt at describing emotions, fluff hidden under the surface.

word count: 1,893 (oh wow!)

m.list | pt. 1 | time: 8:32 p.m

a/n: part 2 to the last fic provided above! people really liked the first one and you guys have no clue how happy that made me. people really wanted this one and I hope it's up to your standards, lmk how you like it!

The feeling of Steve’s repetitive movement on your back doesn’t succeed in what he was attempting to do. To calm you down. 1 day, they say. One day left to live life however the hell you wanted before your time on this earth was no more.

The headaches, the nose bleeds, the worried glances from your friends all made sense now, they knew. and no one hadn’t said anything.

You knew you shouldn’t have been upset at them, it wasn’t their fault, yet they let your time dwindled down before you let it known.

you let out a sniffle and dodge Steve's hand, ignoring the saddened look in his eyes, being touched was something you didn't want right now, no sympathy no pity, just nothing.

"So you're telling me," you start, watching Robin and Dustin pace around the Wheelers basement, "That all this stuff; the headaches, the nose bleeds, aren't because of my allergens, but because some weird creature from the upside down named 'Vecna', has chosen to curse me because I have a fucked up past?"

The pacers stop, and everyone looks at each other, then pauses. Dustin removes his finger from his mouth, and looks down. He looks from you to Steve and then to Max, takes a deep breathe then says, "Yeah, basically."

You nod dramatically, making sure to show them how bizarre this whole thing is by slamming your hands on your lap, "Great, this is just fan-fucking-tastic-"

"But!" Lucas interrupts, speaking for the first time in 10 minutes. In his hand was Max's tape recorder, he had been fiddling with the re-wind button every so often, but stopped when Max nodded his way. They were cute, but something was obviously going on between them. "We have a solution."

"Oh really?" You give him a look of disbelief. Steve removes his hand from your back fully, the emptiness is something you won't ever welcome. You unconsciously frown, Nancy smiles over at you.

"Yes! This may sound crazy but we've figured out a way to extend your time until we figure out to kill it." Max backs Lucas up, you don't miss the grateful smile he gives her. She pushes a earcup back, leaving the other one on. The faint voice of Kate Bush's' music flows from the one on her ear. "What if I say...that the same thing that happened to you, happened to me...?"

The hopeful looks she gives you makes you automatically all ears. It'd be a asshole move to dismiss everything she says because you weren't used to treating mythical creatures like they were real. She was only trying to help, so you give her your undivided attention by leaning in. Max's posture gets giddy when she sees you'll give in without compliant.

She takes a deep breathe and clasps her hands together, then spills everything that had happened over the last couple of hours and the only thing you could think was what the fuck, you look over to Eddie, who you thought at first was the cause of all of this, expecting to him to pop his collar, flip his long hair and give you a cocky smirk, but no. He was sat back in the stained chair with the most intense look on his face, like he couldn't believe it either.

While Max continued talking- making eye contact with you ever now and then, you looked back at Steve, who was slumped back next to you on the couch with his arm slung over your shoulders on the couch rest, finding that he was already staring at you.

When you made contact he didn't look away, but the frown on his face deepened, causing the frown lines on his face more prominent, when he blinks all you see is sorrow and you had to look away to hold back the tears.

"And yeah," She finishes, by the time she was done Dustin had sat down on the floor next to Eddies legs, Criss crossed with his hands in his lap in a prayer position, he hadn't moved in a while so it seems that he was in a deep think.

"We believe that the answers to save not only your life but Max's life is music," and when you scoff Robin adds, "I know it sounds koo-koo for coco puffs but it works! How do you think Max survived this long? She was supposed to die hours ago." Robins tone was aha! proved you wrong but instead it proved nothing, sure you could psychically see Max in all her glory but it seems impossible.

"You have to believe her y/n." Steve speaks up numbly, "It's sounds wacky, I understand, but we can't risk it." He sits up and leans on his knees, turning his head to look at everyone but you can tell he's not fully there. You stare at him, "We can't risk losing you."

Those few words made your heart race, and he looks over at you and it felt like your heart was going to leap from your chest and run a 4k marathon. You couldn't tell if it was because of the delicate ways those words left his lips; full of desperations and no more options, in dire need to keep you here, or the soft way his eyebrows hunch when looking at you, his voice wavers slightly almost like he was going to cry.

"So, what do you say ole cursed one?" Eddie teases, a playful smirk rises onto his lips, "Ready to be a badass and save the world?"

Although this whole thing seems useless you had to do this for all the future victims who will be apart of Vecna's army, you had to do it for those who had no choice but to endure the awful trauma people gave to them, you had to do it for those whose future lied in the hands of evil, you had to do it for your friends who wanted nothing but the best for you, you had to do it for Max.

You had to do it for Steve.

The nosebleeds started to frequent more often, having to resort to carrying around a pack of tissues in case it happened while you were out. You had thrown out the Advil because there was no longer any reason to take it if it just didn't work.

Moral within the group was at an all time high, not only did they believe that they knew how to get to Vecna but how to prolong a victims life. Since the conversation at the Wheeler house, Steve took it upon himself to go to the record store across the street from his house and buy you a record tape, along with serval tapes with different songs from different artists.

“Which one?” He asks, leaning back on your bed frame, he kicks over the plastic bag next to his feet to make room for you to sit.

You sift through the pile, gliding over the cases to see which one you wanted to listen to for hours. MJ, Prince, Madonna, The ink spots, and Guns n' Rose. After a few minutes- and Steve watching you closely, you decide on The Ink Spots, the song in the tape was I Don't Want to Set the World on Fire, an old catchy song from the 40s. You push the other tapes away and push that one towards Steve, "An oldie but a goody."

He looks up at you, his eyebrows hunched in confusion, "Are you sure, don't you think it's kinda...depressing?"

You shrug, he presses a button on the top of the tape recorder and it pops open, then he slides the tape in; closes it and hands it to you. With it you connect the headphones that were in your lap, a gift from Dustin, and plug it into the head phone jack. "I feel that it's fitting."

Steve sighs as you fumble with the headphone cords, slipping them on over your neck, the forlorn expression on your face makes him move quickly and he moves aside everything off the bed and onto the floor, making sure to not crush any of the tapes.

He grabs the hands that were in your lap and pulls you in quickly. You Yelp at the sudden movement but stop when you land on the pillow next to him. “Okay, tell me how you’re felling.”

“I feel fine Steve, as fine as I can get.”

“bullshit, if I found out I was dying I would be the pissest person in the world.”

You shrug, put the headphones on, “Maybe I don’t want to go out angry, it was going to happen eventually I just have to accept it.”

“bullshit,” he repeats, this time it’s full of disbelief and uncertainty.

“It’s the truth!” if anyone was being honest, no one is just going to accept that their time is up, people can be pissy because they aren’t ready. You couldn’t tell if you were lying because you didn’t want to make Steve upset or to come to terms with this reality.

Steve can see through your lies, “Y’know you don’t have to be strong for me, right? If you wanted to you could break down in tears right now and I would be okay with that.”

You nod your head, looking anywhere but towards him, “yeah I know.”

he lightly shoved your knees, “Then what’s going on? Please don’t keep me out, I want nothing but to help you but if you keep this door closed then I can’t do my best.”

"It's just," you reply so quickly that Steve almost gets whiplash, "What's going to happen when I'm gone? What's going to happen to you, what's going to happen that if all this doesn't work out we did all of this for nothing? I don't want you to be like Jason and what happened to Chrissy." you bite your lip to stop yourself from crying, saying it out loud was harder then thinking it and you felt stinging in the corner of your eyes.

"hey," Steve's delicate voice soothes, "Don't cry, none of that stuff is going to happen because we will find a way-"

"But what if-?" You interject but he cuts you off.

"No 'what if's'. Do you know who I am? I am Steve goddamn Harrington and if there's one thing I'll do is protect you. You know why?" He readjusts himself so he could rub your shoulders, you body shakes with the movement.

"Why?" You sniffle, wiping the stray tears that fell on your cheeks.

"Because I care about you, and as your boyfriend I would do anything to keep you safe. Just know that in the end- what ever happens, I will always be on your side."

In that moment you looked at him in eyes and you can see the sincerity, from the way you saw him protect those kids from anything, you knew that he was strong and caring. He was telling the truth and you did trust him, and even if in the dark- when all hope is lost and things are coming to an end, you'd have Steve, the flashlight everyone needs.

So you sigh, wipe the tears away, give him a watery smile, "Okay." and hit play on the tape.

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