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jo6hny · 3 months

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Neighbor - Hazel Callahan

Pairing: College! Hazel Callahan x College! Reader

Contains: fluff, kissing, slight angst, everyone knows you like each other besides the both of you, drunk hazel, reader being an idiot, hazel being an idiot, sylvie and isabel mentioned.

Word Count: 2.7k

Summary: A very drunk Hazel Callahan stumbles upon your dorm room thinking it was hers. What happens when your crush and next door dorm neighbor wriggles her way onto your bed?

A/N: This was written for the anon that requested it! I hope you like it <33 also, sorry if the description of college is inaccurate, i’m not american !! Requests are open!

Knock Knock.

The sound of the knock interrupts your reading. Curious, you get out of bed to see who it is. The comfort of your bed and the book in hand long forgotten as you made your way to your door. You rarely get visitors and your roommate, Sylvie, barely ever knocks. She’d usually just barge right in regardless of what you were doing.

“Hi neighbor.” The brunette greets you on the other side of the door with a smile and a small tupperware dish on her hands. It was Hazel, the girl who occupied the dorm room right across yours. She looked good today. Scratch that, she looked good everyday. There was just something about Hazel Callahan that was charming and adorable.

“Oh, hi Haze.” You smile, greeting her back. “What you got there?”

Hazel extended the dish towards you and said, “This is for you! There were some leftover brownies from the bake sale yesterday and I thought I’d give you some. I would hate for my beloved neighbor to starve.”

Your smile grew wider at your neighbor’s gesture. If you weren’t so blinded by hunger, you would have thought that she’d given these to you because she liked you. Not that she did, though. Hazel seemed to be friendly with everyone. And, well, she always seemed to deflect your advances.

“Aw Hazel,” You cooed, taking the dish from her. It felt hefty, the dish didn’t just contain a few pieces of brownies, it had a lot. Your heart swelled at the gesture.“Thank you so much! I’ll give you something back, I swear.”

Hazel shook her head at this.

“You don’t have to. You always do nice things for me, anyway.” She gave you a dimpled smile. Well, that is true. But it was a two way thing between you and her. Always watching out for each other, especially whenever there were inspections.

You couldn’t exactly pinpoint how you two became close, or well, acquainted. But you knew it was because of Sylvie. She and Hazel were best friends, have been since highschool. Sylvie always told you about their “fight club” back then and how it was a women empowerment thing that saved their school from…football players? The details weren’t exactly clear, especially with how fast your roommate talked. Anyway, you meet Hazel through Sylvie. They’d always hang out at your dorm or Hazel’s dorm, whichever was available. You didn’t mind when they were at yours, they usually just geeked out about weapons and bands and all that shit. Plus, Hazel was easy on the eyes. You could look at her all day if you were being honest. Her hair was dark and soft and always so fragrant. You imagined what it was like to run your hair through her locks, how it’d feel between your fingers. And her eyes were to die for. They were like opals in the sense that they shifted colors ever so often. Most of the time they were blue, but there were times when they’d look silver or green. All of these traits (and more) were what made her so enchanting.

“Well, no worries, Haze. We look out for each other.” You reply, putting a hand on her forearm. It wasn’t obvious, but Hazel’s breath picked up when you touched her. Because unbeknownst to you, she actually did return your feelings. The tension between the two of you was apparent to everyone except the two of you. Sylvie knows it, Hazel’s roommate Isabel did too. Basically everyone on campus did.

“So…” You trailed off. Hazel was too distracted by your touch, her mind was elsewhere. “Um, are you going to that frat party later?”

The blue eyed girl snaps out of her trance at your question and nods.

“Oh, yeah! I’m going with Isabel and Sylvie. Are you?”

“I can’t.” You sigh, slightly disappointed. This was supposed to be an opportunity for you to spend time with Hazel (and Sylvie and Isabel, of course).

“Oh.” Hazel said dejectedly. You picked up on your neighbor’s tone at your reply.

“Sorry, Haze.” You apologize, squeezing her forearm. This caused the brunette to short circuit again. “I have to finish reading this book for my lit class.”

“That’s-That’s okay.” She replied, feeling uncool at the way she stuttered.

“Maybe we can hang out another time?” You said, hinting at a date with her.

Hazel nods at your suggestion. “Yeah! We can bring Sylvie and Isabel too.”

A frown forms on your face at her suggestion which you quickly wipe off and replace with a smile.

“Yep. Sure.” You said, not feeling too enthusiastic. Was there something wrong with you? Did she not like you? You didn’t get why Hazel kept rejecting you.

“I’ll see you, then.” She replies, walking back to her dorm room across from yours.

Back at the comfort of her room, Hazel slaps the palm of her hand on her forehead. It only just registered to her that you wanted to hang out with her without Sylvie and Isabel.

“Stupid.” She muttered, letting herself dramatically fall onto her bed. The brunette groans at her inability to take cues. It’s not that she didn’t want to be with you, it’s just that she had a hard time taking in what you say sometimes. It was hard for her to discern things especially when you were in front of her. Hazel sometimes wished that she were normal. Normal enough to notice the little things. If she were, you two would have gone out by now. The brunette groans again at the thought and buries her head in her pillow.

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Finally onto the last chapter of your book, you decide to rest a bit before moving forward. Closing your eyes, you ease into your mattress a bit and let your head fall onto your soft pillow. A few more minutes you would fall asleep, the book forgotten. Sylvie seemed to have found herself back into your shared room as you heard the door being pried open. Weird though, she didn’t seem to make any noise as she entered. Usually she’d announce her entrance and make herself known. Oh well, maybe she had too much to drink. Back to resting.

“Mmph.” A voice that wasn’t your roommate’s grunted across the room from you, the voice wasn’t Sylvie’s. This alarmed you and your head was filled with thoughts of danger. Your mind recalled all of the instructional videos you watched on self defense and you were counting on your brain to remember all the necessary steps when it came to it.

Taking a careful peek, you notice that the stranger had made themselves comfortable in Sylvie’s bed. They were facing the wall so all you could see was the back of their head. The person had dark brown hair which flowed down to the base of their neck and they had a boyish cut.

“Oh my head hurts so bad.” The stranger groaned. Recognizing her voice, you realize that Hazel was the intruder. She turns and wriggles around the bed which also helps you confirm her identity.

“Hazel!” You exclaim, trying to get her attention. She must’ve thought that she was in her dorm room. The brunette didn’t seem to register your voice and continued wriggling around the bed.

Slowly, you approach her and look at the situation fully. Alcohol reeked through her clothes and there she was in all her drunken glory sprawled all over Sylvie’s bed. Hazel Callahan, your biggest crush, was in your dorm room. The two of you were as close as neighbors could get but you’ve never been alone with each other. You weren’t sure what to do. Should you wake her up? She seemed out of it, though. You’d assumed that Hazel was the type of person you’d need to drag around back to her own room because of how hard it would be to wake her. Plus, she may not look like it, but Hazel had some serious weight on her. The memory of seeing Hazel in a tank top with her toned arms flashed in your mind and you had to physically shake the thought off before you could get any more flustered. Deciding against taking Hazel back, you took it upon yourself to gather a bottle of water and some meds (which you keep just in case) to her.

“Hazel,” You nudge her softly. This caused her to stir a little. “What are you doing here, bub? You got the wrong room.”

“What?” She replied, opening one eye and scanning the room. “Oh you’re right. This isn’t my bed.”

Hazel starts to stand and get off the bed much to your disappointment and relief. What she does next surprises you, though. The brunette then decides to plop herself down on your bed and make herself comfortable.

“This is better.” She mumbles, pulling the comforter up to her chin.

“Oh, that’s not…” You say unironically. Racking your brain on the best possible move, you ultimately decide to just let the blue eyed girl be. There was no harm in letting her sleep for the night in your bed, right?

Wrong. Hazel kept pulling you into bed with her until you lost your footing and gently crashed on top of her. Your neighbor quickly used this to her advantage and wrapped her arms around you, securing you in her hold.

“Hazel, buddy, wake up.” You whisper, trying to get yourself out of her tight (but comfortable) grip. If you had it your way, you would reciprocate the cuddle but she was drunk and she wouldn’t remember any of this in the morning.

With your free hand, you continuously poke the brunette until she got irritated and opened one of her eyes to look at you. At this, she smiled and uttered your name.

“Hi, pretty. What’re you doing in my room?” She muttered, patting your hair.

“It’s not your room, Haze.” You whisper, trying to hide the blush that was forming on your cheeks. Your body felt warm.

“‘M pretty sure it is.” She mumbled, closing her eye again. Hazel seemed comfortable like this. Like she’d imagine doing this before. It had you thinking about whether or not she thought about you too.

Ridding your head of the thoughts, you decide to give in. There was no waking your neighbor up and you were pretty tired too. Sighing, you relax your body and try to sleep all the while racking your brain on what to tell Hazel tomorrow.

You’re awoken by a groan from your intruder neighbor last night. Hazel must be awake. Taking a look, you realized that you were now facing your wall and Hazel’s arm was wrapped around you as she nuzzled her nose into your neck from behind. The thought of your position made the blood on your cheeks warm up.

“What?” You hear her mumble. Hazel rids her nose off your neck and sees that you were on the receiving end of her hug. You could feel her physically freeze at the sight. Deciding to break the ice, you faced Hazel and gave her a smile.

“Hi.” You whisper, scared that if your voice was louder you’d freak her out more.

“H-hello.” She whispered back, unsure of what her eyeballs were seeing. At that, your neighbor rubs at her eyelids to make sure you weren’t an illusion.

“You okay?” You ask as you sit up. You reach over your dresser and hand her the water bottle and meds from last night. “Here, drink this. It’ll get rid of the headache.”

Reluctantly, she sits up and takes it from you. Hazel looked lost, like she couldn’t believe what was happening in front of her eyes. Still, she took the meds and ingested it. Her head was killing her and she wasn’t going to reject being saved by an angel.

“Is this real?” She asks as she finally speaks her thoughts out loud.

This earns a giggle from you and Hazel’s heart picks up at the sight and the sound of your laughter. God, you were so pretty. Especially with you on her bed, well, it was your bed but that’s besides the point.

“I’m pretty sure it is, Haze.” You reply, fidgeting with the blanket on your bed.

“Did we?” She trails off, her eyes wide. Hazel clasps her hand over her mouth in an attempt to cover up her gasp.

“Oh, no! No, Haze. Nothing bad happened, don’t worry.” You reply, putting a reassuring hand on her lap. “You just got lost is all. Got the wrong dorm and you thought my bed was yours. You were pretty drunk.”

“Oh, alright.” She replied, seemingly disappointed. Hazel wasn’t very good at masking her emotions and you could tell that she felt bad about something.

“If it matters to you, I wasn’t mad or anything. You can stumble here drunkenly all you want.” You reassure her. The last thing you wanted was to scare your crush off because she found herself on your bed after a seemingly wild night.

“And I didn’t say anything weird?” She asked warily. Hazel didn’t trust herself whenever she was intoxicated. She didn’t have a filter whenever she drank and she was scared out of her mind that she yapped on to you about her feelings.

You shake your head at her question. “No, you’re all good. Though you did call me pretty.”

Hazel’s cheeks turned a slight shade of pink.

“It’s true.” She said. Ah, maybe she was still a bit drunk. Hazel mentally facepalmed at how she just openly admitted her admiration of you. This wasn’t how she imagined it going. In her head, Hazel confesses to you after a big life changing moment. Not this, not after drunkenly stumbling into your room.

“I think you’re pretty too, Haze.” You whisper, leaning in closer. This is it. You were going to kiss and confess your feelings. Happily ever after. The thought made your heart race.

Hazel jumps at your action; her eyes were wide with surprise. Did you read it wrong? Oh god, you just made her uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry.” You blurt out, hands wailing all over the place. “I didn’t mean to, I thought we were flirting. I’m so sorry, Hazel.”

Hazel does a double take at what you said. The wires in her brain were all flaring up and her eyebrows furrowed.

“You were flirting with me?” Hazel asks, confusion taking over her senses. She never thought that you’d be into her. Well, maybe you were. She wasn’t good at seeing signs. Sometimes it felt like you were flirting but her brain tries to push it off. She didn’t really see why you would want to be with her, to be honest. Some of the trauma from highschool carried on til this day and it’s something she has trouble with.

“I have been for the past six months, thanks for noticing.” You mutter, breaking eye contact with the brunette. All your confidence disappeared. You felt dumb for ever thinking that Hazel would feel the same about you. She didn’t even know you were flirting.

“I’m sorry.” She says as she hesitantly takes your hand. “I didn’t know. Well, a part of me did. It’s just that I’m bad at this.”

“No, Haze. I’m sorry too. I should have been direct with you, to be honest.” You interlock your fingers together and squeeze her hand.

“For what it’s worth, I do like you.” She replies. Your breath hitches and your mouth is agape ever so slightly. Hazel Callahan just confessed to you.

“Oh my god.” You exclaim, freaking out. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to return the feelings. I just wanted to let you know.” Sweet Hazel, again, wasn't reading between the lines. But you didn’t let this bother you.

Taking her face in your hands, you decide to plant a kiss on her soft lips. Your neighbor was surprised at this but eventually melted into the kiss. It was everything you dreamt of. Hazel’s lips were soft and gentle. She kissed you with such yearning, like she’d dreamt about this moment too.

“Dummy.” You say, exasperated. “I like you too.”

Hazel smiles and the dimples on her cheek peeks out. Suddenly everything was quiet in her mind and the only thing she could think of was you. The brunette took your hand and kissed it, a declaration of her love and her loyalty. She couldn’t believe it. This moment was bigger to her than anything ever before. You were the quiet in her mind and the roar of her heart.

#hazel callahan x reader #hazel bottoms #hazel callahan #lgbtq #bottoms movie #hazel callahan imagine #wlw #lgbtqia #hazel callahan scenario #hazel callahan fluff #lesbian #fanfic #hazel callahan fanfiction #bottoms 2023 #bottoms imagine

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suzumori521 · 6 months

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Announcement regarding skeb (commission)

Thank you as always for your commission requests on skeb! I am incredibly grateful for the support I receive from all of you, and words can't express how much I appreciate it. Due to skeb's regulations, I couldn't display a menu or offer multiple plans, so I only accepted high-priced color illustrations.

However, upon discovering that it's possible to have multiple accounts, I've created more affordable plans to make requests more accessible.

Here is the Twitter account for the skeb sub-account↓

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https://twitter.com/szmr_SKB_sub

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I cannot explain the plan details here, so please check the posted images for confirmation and judgment.

I am unable to accept requests at the moment as the review from skeb's administration is not yet complete. I will notify you as soon as the review is passed. Prices will be available on the skeb site when the request process begins.

Request announcements will be prioritized on Tumblr as before. Please understand that I cannot respond to inquiries about the request details due to the regulations.

Thank you for your continued support!

#skeb #skeb commission #commission

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dcafanzine · 1 month

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We’ve been getting a lot of asks about what the application process will look like and what to do, so here are a few tips that should help you out! (This is not required reading if you’re looking to apply, but it might help!)

When you’re applying for a spot on the DCA fanzine, we will be asking to see examples of your existing work. You might be wondering what would be considered a good fit, and which of your existing pieces to choose to show off in your contributor application.

NOTE: PLEASE do NOT create pieces you are intending to submit to be included in the zine itself as part of your application! Zine pieces are to be created by contributors in the three month period following their being selected to be on the zine. We cannot guarantee you a spot, so please don’t burn yourself out trying! There will be other chances!

(Oh, and please ensure viewing permissions are on when you’re sharing any links in your application, so we can see your work!)

Now on to the fine details …

For all applicants:

This zine is a celebration of our beloved celestial jester(s), the daycare attendant(s) - you will need to submit at least one example piece in your application (preferably more) that features these characters, with depictions of them in a canon-adjacent* form being a huge bonus.

Pieces submitted in your application should ideally be safe for work, as this will be a safe for work zine. This zine isn’t playing to a specific mood or genre, so feel free to go wild with depictions of fluff, angst, horror, etc. so long as these fit broadly under the PG-13 rating. Shipping ideally shouldn’t be the focus of every example provided either as this zine will not be specifically focused around romantic ships but more on the character(s) of the daycare attendant(s) themselves.

A limited number of AU spots will be available but in order to accept AU works as final pieces in this zine we request that you must either be the creator of the AU, or have express permission from the AU’s creator.

*Canon-adjacent here doesn’t mean the depiction has to be biblically accurate, just that the design should not differ so substantially from what would typically be recognised as the DCA to essentially be a separate character. This fandom is intensely creative and we love and applaud the originality of the many different variants of the DCA, but this zine aims to focus primarily on canon-adjacent depictions, with a limited number of slots for AU content as well. Having canon-adjacent depictions of the DCA will massively help round out your application for this zine!

For some positions, you will be asked to give 1-3 idea pitches, with at least one idea pitch being required. Pitches should summarise what you might be thinking of creating for the zine, showcasing your creativity and helping you brainstorm ideas for what to make if selected. Your pitch will be especially useful if you are hoping to write or illustrate any AU content, to give us an idea of what sort of thing you expect to contribute. Your pitch may be on the longer or shorter side depending on what you prefer, just as long as it illustrates the idea(s) you are aiming for. If you are selected, you will not be required to create the idea(s) you mentioned in your pitch, and will be able to change your mind on what you wish to create for the zine at a later point.

For writers:

We are looking for around 5 writers to join this zine. Upon being selected to be contributors, writers will write a short self-contained story (around 1.5-2k words) which will be illustrated by the spot artist they pair up with.

What we’ll be looking for in a writer application is readability (how well the example writing submitted for the application flows and how easy to follow it is), pacing, vividness of characters (characterisation of Sun and Moon in this fandom tends to vary a lot, so we’ll be looking more at consistency and imaginativeness here!), and how engaging the example writing is, as well as the ability to wrap up a short story. For this reason, while excerpts reaching around the 2k mark will be happily accepted, at least one of the examples should be a self-contained story or scene that fits within (or close to!) the word limit listed on the application form!

For page artists:

We are looking for around 23 page artists to contribute to this zine. Once selected as contributors, page artists will create a full page illustration featuring the daycare attendant(s) for the zine. A page illustration should fill the space on the page nicely and play to your strengths. This could be a coloured illustration depicting one or multiple characters with a background, a neat photograph of a sculpture or traditional piece you’ve made, or even a nice neat one-page comic! So long as it fits nicely on the page without compromising its quality, it will likely make a great fit for the zine!

What we will be looking for in a page artist application is composition (how elements in the example pictures submitted for the application like the background, props, characters, etc. work together), atmosphere (how the example pictures build a mood), creativity (unique and quirky representations and ideas!), and the level of polish the example pieces have (so overall how neat and nicely finished they look). At least one example provided will need to have a full background (so something containing complex background elements or designs or scenery, like a room or a scene).

For spot artists:

We are aiming to have around 5 spot artists for this zine. Spot artists will be paired up with writers, illustrating smaller scenes written for the zine. The mood of these pieces might vary greatly, but should match the tone and content of the writing.

What we’ll be looking for in a spot artist application is how well their example pieces convey a particular mood and/or feeling, as well as how well they present a scene in a smaller space. The example pieces submitted might not need to be as detailed or polished as those required by full page artists, but should be just as expressive!

For merch artists:

We will be looking for around 2-3 merch artists for this zine. Merch artists will design merch to go with the zine when it potentially hits certain sales targets. Prior experience making merch is greatly preferred for applicants applying for this role.

What we’ll be looking for in a merch artist application is the ability to make neat, simple designs that translate well as physical and digital merchandise.

Hopefully that clears a few things up - and please don’t be too daunted by all the details or feel you have to play perfectly to all of the ideas given above, every single one of us is different and the most unconventional of application pieces might be just the thing we need! This is just to make the application process a little clearer for anyone who’s nervous about what to submit. If anything is still a little unclear, please feel free to send us an ask on our Tumblr or CuriousCat!

#dca fanzine #dca fan zine #daycare attendant #daycare attendent #fnaf daycare attendant #moondrop #sundrop #fanzine #dca fandom #fnaf dca #fnaf security breach

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loviatarsluv · 25 days

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Request!

I posted details here, it’s for Gale!

https://www.tumblr.com/cherifrog/739699979425333248/anyone-else-interested-in-like-a-super-jealous

YUHHHHH now THIS is what im talkin about!!!!!!!

*cracks knuckles* lets get this party started shall we

(I am so sorry to be answering this literally a million years too late I’ve redone and rewritten this prompt like 100000 times but I finally like this version!!! so here we go!!!)

Gale x AFAB f!tav

rating: oh boy this one is certainly rated M for mature

CW: smut, inappropriate use of mage hand, rough sex, PiV, oral, gale being jealous and going absolutely FERAL

word count: 5.4k

let’s get itttt

If looks could kill, surely, Astarion would have been long dead— well, even more so— by now.

Gale was never exactly fond of the pale elf from the start, and he was well aware the feeling was likely incredibly mutual— but gods, he swore he was beginning to actually hate him.

At least, he hated the way he looked at her. The way he leered at her. The way he purred her name with that practiced and over-rehearsed seductive charm of his. The way he would lock piercing crimson eyes with Gale’s blazing umber ones as he cozied up to her at the fire with that deviant and knowing smirk on his stupid pointy face. The way she would smile at him the warmest, kindest, most hopelessly and adorably oblivious smile in response to the charlatan’s blatant advances.

Maybe he did hate him, upon further reflection. If only for the last reason alone.

Astarion would find any way to touch her and be able get away with it— his hand lingering on the small of her back as he passed her, touching her shoulder to get her attention, brushing hair out of her face when stray pieces fell over her eyes— all things that seemed innocent enough until you realized who was doing them and the devious smirk on his face when his gaze would meet that of the wizard that was surely plotting his second untimely demise.

Though, he could hardly blame him.

And Gale never got upset with her, of course, he knew it wasn’t her fault and honestly, he truly didn’t blame Astarion for wanting her— gods, who could possibly resist her?

Certainly not Gale, not even if he tried; and he had tried, to no avail. Yet that didn’t quell his frustration toward the silver haired and equally silver tongued vampire for attempting to swoop in on what was likely the first real chance at mortal love he’d had in a very long time.

He’d spent the early days in their adventure together absolutely beside himself with how taken he was by her nearly instantly. He felt like a smitten schoolboy all over again when he thought about the feeling of her soft but strong hands gripping his as she pulled him from the stone by the nautiloid crash with most impressive ease, the way she looked at him with wonder and curiosity, and even a flicker of something else that he recognized as attraction because he imagined it was mirrored in his own face at the sight of her.

It was then only worsened by the night that they channeled the weave together and the kiss she’d pictured them sharing— the way their limbs tangled and their lips pressed together softly, then passionately and fervently. Her fingers wrapped in his chestnut tresses and his hands gripping the fabric at her waist— that image will be burnt into the fabric of his mind forevermore, he’s certain.

Not to mention, the way her pupils dilated and her cheeks flared and flushed a heavenly shade of pink at the way he praised her as she successfully mimicked the incantation and his motions. It was enough to have him panting and attempting to tame the straining erection in his trousers when he retired to his tent that night.

He thought he’d mastered the art of managing to keep such thoughts like that at bay during his time of isolation as he tried to keep the orb sated and calm and very nonexplosive— but that was before her, after all.

It was pathetically easy at the time, considering his amount of interaction with other humans had gone from healthy to nonexistent entirely so he didn’t have much to think about aside from himself; perhaps when he was truly desperate or feeling especially lonely, he’d think about Mystra and the nights he’d spent in Elysium with her (literally and metaphorically).

But now, any attempts to be chaste or think chaste thoughts were moot in her presence.

Especially after the night they shared under the stars in the wilderness of the Shadow Cursed Lands.

They’d hardly been able to go more than a few hours without some kind of touch in the days following that perfect evening— whether it be a hand on her lower back, or holding one of her much smaller hands in his as he helped her scale a wall or hop across a boulder that she was more than capable of managing herself. A stolen kiss when no one was looking. Or, if they were lucky, they could steal a few moments alone in some ruined and crumbling crypt where he could bury himself between her thighs and send a silent thank you to whatever gods had a hand in creating a creature as divine as her.

That being said, they hadn’t been entirely discreet about their affections— not that they really wanted to be. Gale certainly had no reservations about making it known that he was claiming her for himself, despite his gentlemanly nature chastising him for it and reminding himself she was a person, not a prize to be claimed.

He would never say that she was, anyway, do not mistake it— being raised solely by a woman such as the inimitable Morena Dekarios had beaten into his core that women were not to be claimed or to be owned but to be cherished and treated as your equal. He would never claim otherwise, he couldn’t.

On the other hand, he was also acutely aware that his were not the only set of eyes that wistfully tracked her every move and every breath throughout the day within their strange band of wayward souls, and a very base part of him needed to send the clearest message he could muster without flat out verbally declaring that she was his.

It was very unlike him, this sort of possessive and primal nature, but he couldn’t deny that a small fraction of himself that he usually shoved into the deepest recesses of his being loved it for that fact. It was a part of him reserved only for her, as she was the only one who’d ever been able to coax it out of him.

And thus, he felt absolved of any guilt about the way he glared daggers at the side of Astarion’s head and pictured hurling a fire bolt at the undead man as he spoke to her in hushed tones across camp.

At least he knew it wouldn’t kill him. Although, he’d probably slit Gale’s throat for singing his singlet in return.

It was enough to keep the heat in his palm at bay for the time being.

He tried to discreetly move close enough to hear their conversation, moving toward Wyll’s tent that happened to be just a few paces away from Astarion’s and disguising his intentions as simply having a chat over a glass of wine with the warlock.

Wyll’s eyes light up as the wizard approaches, shooting him a dashing and very princely smile that he was certain had made many a maiden swoon in his younger years as the duke’s son, galavanting through ballrooms and dragging said maidens to the dance floor after either one too many glasses of brandy or none at all.

“Gale, my friend! Fancy a glass of wine?” He kindly proposed, tilting the glass in his hand in Gale’s direction.

Gale offers an almost genuine smile, nodding. “Thank you, Wyll. I think a hearty glass of wine is just what I need at the moment,” he laments with a sigh.

Wyll disappears for only a moment before returning with a glass and wine bottle in hand. “That bad, huh?”

Gale gratefully takes the silver glass and holds it out for Wyll to pour the rest of the Amnan Liquer he’d been holding onto since their escapades at the former Rosymorn Monastery turned Githyanki Crèche.

He turns his body just enough to keep both his lover and the offending vampire in his line of sight, attempting to tune into their conversation and realizing that he can faintly hear the melodic hum of her voice, as well as the silky tones of Astarion’s.

Firebolt. No, no.

Wyll’s eyes dart between Gale, then Tav, then Astarion, his eyebrow raising. “Astarion certainly doesn’t lack in the gall department, I’ll give him that.”

Gale huffs a bitter laugh. “Can’t fault him. As much as I want to.”

Wyll gently bumps his shoulder into Gale’s with a reassuring smile. “One can’t always be a gentleman, Gale. I respect your restraint, but if I were you, even I would be cutting in on whatever it is that he’s doing with her. Love the fellow, but I don’t trust him as far as I can throw him.”

Gale goes silent, giving himself a moment to try to catch any of what was being said between them, only hearing the sound of her laughter intermingling with Astarion’s— and suddenly Wyll’s advice had become all the more tempting to follow.

I could just go over there, he thinks. ‘Assert my dominance’ the old fashioned way. Or…

A wickedly devious idea flutters across his mind, and a smirk forms on his lips. Before he can realize it and stop it, Wyll’s tadpole connects to his, and Wyll snorts as he sees what debauchery Gale’s brain had concocted.

“She’d have your arse in a second,” he jokingly warns. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Gale wanted to listen to reason (Wyll Ravengard being the voice of reason, in this instance) and just do the diplomatic thing as he always did— but a part of him wanted to make a show of it all. To show her as well as everyone else the lengths he’d go to for her.

He whispers a simple cantrip and waves his hand, blue light glowing from his palm as he calls for a spectral hand to appear before him. He eyes the mage hand for a moment, waving his fingers and watching it as it mirrors his movements with perfect accuracy. A rush of excitement passes through him as he ponders the possibilities, but debates for a moment whether he should— only to hear the lovely melody that was her laughter once again and his decision was sealed.

He commands the hand to become invisible, the only way for him to tell it was still there was the very faint outline of it that you could only notice if you had been looking for it. He flicks his hand in her direction, commanding it to fly toward her.

“Your funeral,” Wyll chuckles, taking a long sip from his chalice, eyebrows raised.

The hand obliges, quickly floating to her but stopping just beside her. She shivers slightly as it grazes her bare shoulder, her head snapping in the direction of the sudden sensation.

Gale freezes for a moment, praying she doesn’t catch on too soon. When she finally turns her attention back to Astarion, he relaxes, then motions for the hand to gently brush her hair over her other shoulder, causing her to jump and look again, her eyes narrowed as she scans the area. Her gaze lands on Gale, and he tries to remain composed but cannot hide the pleased smirk on his face. She furrows her brows, a look of confusion and suspicion on her face as she turns away once again. She still hadn’t caught on just yet, much to Gale’s delight.

He continues once again, now commanding the hand to gently caress the back of her neck, the cool sensation of its spectral palm causing goosebumps to rise and her hair to stand on end. She sucks in a sharp breath, causing Astarion’s eyes to snap up to her.

“Everything alright, dear?” He hears Astarion ask, his signature shit-eating grin still on his lips.

She nods, clearing her throat. “Mhm, sorry, I just— ah, got a bit chilly.”

He cocks a brow at her. “I would offer to warm you, but I don’t think that I am qualified for the task,” he jokes, causing Gale’s jaw to clench.

Firebolt. Ooh, better yet, Fireball. Ice knife. Lightning bolt, perhaps?

She laughs, then gasps once again as the hand has now relocated to the front of her, gently tracing the outline of her collar bone. It then follows the curve of the top of her breast, settling between her cleavage for a moment before continuing down further and further, grazing her abdomen before stopping just at the waistline of her breeches.

“Gods, I shouldn’t be watching this,” Wyll grunts, shaking his head and allowing his gaze to drop to the ground.

She turns and shoots a piercing look at Gale, now fully aware of what was happening. He winks at her, before commanding the hand to continue its journey down her body, ghosting over the spot between her thighs. She squeezes her legs shut tight, in an attempt to quell the heat pooling low in her core despite her rising frustration toward Gale and her embarrassment.

“Darling, do you need a blanket? Perhaps we could move into my te—”

“I’m fine,” She blurts, loud enough so that she knows Gale hears her, as she refuses to give in to his childish behavior. “What were you saying?”

As Astarion continues whatever riveting story he’d been telling before she distracted him, she shoots Gale one last pathetic glance, not sure whether she was begging him to stop or keep going. He smirks, taking her pleading eyes as his queue to continue, moving the mage hand southward and grazing her blazing hot center.

She sucks in another breath, this time a lot quieter, her head falling back that she attempts to play off as if she were simply looking up at the stars.

Astarion’s head shoots up to look at her again, almost as if he were beginning to get frustrated.

“S-stars are bright tonight,” She stammers, eliciting a chuckle from Gale. He was enjoying this far too much to stop now.

He wills the hand to press two fingers down right where he knows her clit is, reveling in the way her back arches at the sudden touch, right where he knew she loved it.

Astarion’s eyebrow raises as he eyes her, her face flushed, her hair in disarray and her legs clamped shut tight. He was— unfortunately for her— very good at reading body language, even more specifically hers, and he was beginning to catch on to her predicament. His eyes dart over toward Gale who was not at all subtle with the devious smirk on his face as his hand continued commanding the spell.

“Your wizard is clever, I’ve got to hand it to him.” He smirks, stifling a chuckle.

Her eyes go wide, the hot blush in her cheeks only increasing.

“I’m going to kill him.” She hisses through gritted teeth, before twisting and facing Gale, who could not contain the triumphant grin on his face despite her very displeased expression.

“Do it out where I can watch, won’t you, darling? I’m quite overdue for a good show.” He calls after her, watching her storm toward Gale, shaking his head and chuckling with delight.

Gale dismisses the spell as he spots her making a very angry beeline toward him, then crosses his arms behind his back innocently as she approaches him.

“I warned you, you cheeky bastard.” Wyll grumbles, watching with anticipation and vaguely hidden amusement as she stomps toward the wizard beside him with murderous intent.

Gale offers her a smile as she approaches, to which she only offers a grimace.

“Hello, my love. Feeling alright?” He says equally as innocently, in spite of the devilish grin on his face.

She shakes her head. “Tent. Now.”

He raises his hands in defense, shit-eating smirk ever persistent. “Your wish is my command, darling.” He draws out the pet name to mimic the way Astarion says it, earning a rather angry eye roll.

He trails behind her as she continues her warpath toward his tent, his heart racing as he imagines exactly what he plans to do the second he gets her alone— he’d saved those thoughts for after Wyll’s tadpole’s connection broke from his own to spare him the filthy details.

She ducks into his tent brusquely, the flap slapping closed behind her before he makes his own way in after her. He chuckles at her ire, and the fact that in any other situation he’d be on his knees begging her for forgiveness in response to her irritation toward him— but this time, he planned on using it much to his advantage. Fuel for the fire, so to speak.

The second he enters the tent, her wild eyes are on him and she’s standing with her arms crossed over her chest which was still heaving, her face still completely flushed.

“What the hells is wrong with y—”

Her tirade is cut off by lips roughly crashing onto hers, her words being instantly smothered then swallowed by him and his tongue and the bittersweet taste of wine on his breath. She wants to fight back but finds her efforts moot as she instantly melts into him, allowing him to maneuver her exactly as he wishes.

Rough but elegant hands grip her waist, pulling her body flush to his, enough for her to feel the erection straining to be freed from his pants against her lower stomach. The heat that had been coiling and pooling low within her had only reignited with a vengeance now, partially fueled by her anger toward him and mostly fueled by her ever present desire for him.

His hands migrated to palm the swell of her ass, kneading the plush but still firm flesh that always caught his attention even in the worst moments such as the middle of a tense battle— something he almost felt the need to punish her for, even though it wasn’t truly her fault.

His tongue explores her mouth hungrily as her hands move to begin undoing the buttons of his linen shirt, before one of his hands catches her wrist and holds it, lacing her fingers through his. He breaks the kiss, dark umber irises pooling with pure liquid lust and carnality as they meet her more perplexed ones.

Leaving her unspoken questions unanswered, he unbuttons her pants with one hand, yanking them down her legs until she takes it upon herself to kick them off and discard them somewhere on the ground within the tent. He tugs at the bottom edge of her shirt, and she wordlessly grants him permission with only a small nod and a raise of her arms to afford him some ease in ripping it over her head and adding to the growing pile of clothes scattered across the floor of the small space.

She’s lit only by the soft orange glow of the campfire leaking in through the crack of the tent flap that neither of them had bothered to seal, her skin radiant even in the dimness of the night. He drinks in her frame, eyes skimming along every contour of her body, every rounded edge and every sharp one— even the shadow she cast against the back wall of his tent was erotic, all hips and curves and the most heavenly structure.

As if she’d been lovingly built by Sune’s own gracious hands.

“Lay down,” he commands, pointing to the bedroll that he’d preemptively fixed and made extra comfortable with several more layers of blankets, pillows, and furs. “And spread your legs for me.”

She obliges instantly, quickly but gracefully laying atop the nest of cotton and fur and velvet, her hair splaying around her head and framing her like a halo— only serving to make his already painfully stiff cock twitch against the fabric of his pants and a bead of precum leak from the tip. He feared he may not even be able to make it long enough to be inside of her at this rate.

“That’s my girl,” he almost moans, his voice low and husky and reverent as he drops to his knees before her, moving to kneel between her legs. “My beautiful girl.”

She blushes and shyly looks away, her bottom lip caught between her teeth to bite back a smile. He leans over her, gently gripping her chin with his fingers and moving her face back to look at him. “Eyes on me, my love. My love.” He drawls, dragging out his words in hopes that they’d have more time to sink into her precious mind that he cherished just as much, if not more than her wholly divine body.

Gale was all together a typically patient man. He did almost everything meticulously and gracefully. He would spend hours studying a particular topic just to ensure that he’d get it right the very first time.

Gale as a lover was no different.

He’d spent hours and even days at this point learning everything he could about her body— every sensitivity, every weak spot, ticklish spot, every scar or freckle or blemish. The things she was insecure or shy about, the things that would send her eyes rolling back into her head.

He had become a consummate virtuoso at worshiping her body and what granted her the most pleasure possible. He lavished her in it, bathed her in every ounce of bliss he possibly could until she could no longer speak, much less think properly.

Tonight was no exception— though he was considerably less delicate than was typical for him, as he hungrily lapped at the heat between her thighs as if it contained the last drop of honey on the face of Faerun. He licked and kissed and sucked and drank in every bit of her essence he possibly could, not stopping even after she’d already come just to wring out every last bit of her pleasure for his own selfish need. The selfish need to taste her, to savor her. To devour her.

He didn’t stop until she was a tangled mess of shaking limbs and clammy skin and teary eyes, and she whimpered his name like a plea. Whether it were a plea to stop or to keep going was unclear for both of them.

He lifted his face, his beard and lips drenched in her slick as he licked the remains of her off of his lips and fingers, causing her to clamp her legs together at the sight. He smirks triumphantly, knowing full well that she was nearing being entirely spent and yet she still wanted more.

“Please,” she whimpered, leaning up (very unsteadily) to finish unbuttoning his shirt, her fingers fumbling with the buttons and the fabric. He relents and allows her to make her best attempt with her trembling fingers before he takes over for her, lifting it over his head and discarding the linen nearby.

Her finger gently trails from the dark purple mark of the orb on his chest down the hard planes of his torso until she reaches the waistband of his pants, dipping her finger underneath and tugging at it. Her eyes meet his full of intent, and he feels the tadpole in his head stir as she tries to connect to him.

I need to suck your cock. Please.

His eyes darken as he looks at her, the image of her perfectly pink lips wrapped around him searing into his mind— whether it being his own thoughts or hers invading his didn’t matter— but he shakes his head, then severs the connection.

She frowns, her bottom lip jutting out in a pout. He rubs his thumb along the swollen softness of it as he caresses her chin, tilting her head back slightly to get a better view of the elegant column of her neck. He had plans for the perfect and smooth expanse of the area between her jaw and her clavicle that he soon intended to enact. But not yet.

“Naughty girl,” he chastises her, but not without a devious smirk and a hint of lustful playfulness.

She whimpers again, sending goosebumps down his arms and the hair on them to raise on end. “Please, Gale. I want to make you feel good, I need to make you feel good,” she stammers, her eyes peering up at his, wanton and needy.

It was enough to almost oblige her request, but he knew if her mouth came anywhere near his already all too sensitive cock that he’d come apart at the seams instantly, and that just wouldn’t do.

“And I need to be inside of you,” he retorts, his voice soft but stern. “I need to claim what’s mine.” He nearly growls.

Gentleman Gale reprimands him in his mind, but is quickly overtaken by Her Gale— the one that only answers to her and belongs solely to her. The one that hoped with everything in him there was also a part of her that was his and only his.

Her mouth opens to speak, and he half expects her to yell at him and berate him for reducing her to a prize to be claimed— and is pleasantly surprised when she doesn’t.

“Please. Please come here, please fuck me,” she begs, the rasp in her voice as she does nothing short of absolutely erotic.

He needs no further instruction, and quickly removes his pants and undergarments, his erection springing free and already slick with his own desire. She eyes it with a hunger that he recognizes and has to ignore before the temptation to fuck her mouth grows any stronger.

He presses his strong but gentle hand against her chest, slowly pushing her back against the pillows as he moves to position himself at her entrance, her legs wrapping around his hips and urging him forward impatiently. He taps the side of one of her thighs in warning, rubbing the head of his cock across her already soaked folds to further lubricate it and tease her.

“Eager little thing, aren’t you?”

She whines, her voice broken as if she truly might cry if she goes another second without him inside her. “Gale.”

He chuckles darkly, once again pressing the swollen head of his cock at her entrance, slipping in as slowly as he can manage, mustering every bit of strength and willpower he has left not to just bury himself in her as deep as he can.

“Tell me,” he commands, his voice low and gruff but still needy, almost desperate.

She connects the dots instantly, knowing exactly what he wanted. What he craved. “I’m yours, Gale. Only yours.”

She cries out in shock, slight pain, and pure ecstasy as he harshly snaps his hips into hers, his cock burying to the hilt in her velvet heat.

Home. This felt like home.

He knew that he probably should have given her more time to adjust to him, and it was something he’d surely feel guilty about later, but Her Gale wanted her to feel it tomorrow. He wanted her to be reminded of this moment as she goes on about her day through the ache between her legs as she walks, constantly reminding her who fucks her like this, who loves her like this.

“My pretty girl, my perfect girl,” he chants, his words leaving his lips like a litany of prayer as if he were in a temple of worship. He’d always been a man of religion, but this was holier and more divine than anything he’d ever experienced— even sharing a bed with an actual goddess couldn’t compare.

She throws her head back, her eyes shut tightly and she desperately grips at the pillows around her to ground herself, her neck on full display. He leans down to place wet kisses in a trail from her jaw to her collarbone, biting and sucking in very obvious spots that she’d be hard pressed to be able to cover in the morning.

She writhes and moans underneath him, one of her hands moving to grip the back of his head and fist the hair at the nape of his neck, the sensation of her fingers tugging at his scalp blending from slight pain into pure pleasure earning a throaty grunt from him that rumbles in his chest.

He feels her tighten ever so slightly around him, her walls clenching and pulsing in a sort of warning. He continues his pace, driving her closer and closer to the precipice.

“Gale, I’m gonna—”

“I know, sweet girl, I know,” he coos, leaning down and pressing his lips to her sweat slicked forehead, then whispering, “come for me, my love.”

It wasn’t so much a demand as a desperate request, as his need to feel her come on him and to ride out the waves of her pleasure alongside her became almost devastating.

To urge her on even further, he slipped a hand down and began to rub quick circles around her clit as he pounded into her until she saw stars— it wasn’t long before she completely shattered underneath him, tumbling into free fall off the edge of the best orgasm she’d ever had.

She cries out a jumbled mess of I love you and I’m yours with his name sprinkled throughout as she reaches the peak and dives off the edge, her hips rocking upward into Gale’s as he continues to fuck her through her orgasm. He feels himself quickly approaching his own finish line, the feeling of her cunt pulsing and hugging his cock tighter and tighter driving him further and further.

A few more thrusts and he was done for, spilling everything he had in her and grunting her name as he came, the entire fiber of his being ripping apart and repairing itself as he went limp above her, barely having enough strength to brace himself with his hands on either side of her head as he gripped the pillows so that he doesn’t crush her under his weight.

They both fall silent apart from the sounds of their breathing steadying and slowing to a calm and regular pace, the only other sounds being that of the distant crackling of the fire and the even more distant sounds of their companions still wrapping up for the night and preparing for bed.

Her eyes flutter open to find his in the dim light of the fire, her hand reaching up to caress his cheek. He sighs and leans into her touch, turning his head to place a kiss to the center of her palm, the coarse hair of his beard scratching her skin and tickling it, making her giggle quietly.

“I’m still mad at you, you know,” she jokes, causing him to nibble at the skin of her palm playfully. “That wasn’t funny, Gale.”

He smiles and reaches for a rag to clean her up with. “I had hoped this would serve as an adequate apology.”

She sucks in a breath as he pulls out and rubs the rag across her still sensitive and throbbing core, her hips bucking upward slightly with some discomfort. “You expected to fuck me into complicity?”

He chuckles, the sound rumbling in his chest as he finishes cleaning her, then tosses the rag aside and lays beside her, pulling her onto his chest.

“Not exactly,” he says, earning a disbelieving grimace from her. “I am sorry, for what it’s worth. I just— I don’t think you realize that seeing the way he interacts with you and the way you interact with him is nothing short of agonizing for me.”

She saw the hurt in his eyes even in the dark— the ache and the gnawing need for reassurance. She understood it all too well, as she’d done the same when the topic of Mystra would get brought up in the earlier days of their relationship.

“There is no other set of arms I’d rather have wrapped around me right now than yours. There is no other company I’d rather share in the way I share in yours. Don’t you know that?” She asked, shifting so that she’s leaning over him, his big brown eyes resembling those of a puppy being told it was a good boy.

“I am yours, Gale Dekarios,” she whispers. “Body and soul.”

Relief and pure elation smoothed out the concern from his features. He pulled her closer to him, until she was mostly on top of him and her head rested on his chest and he could press a long kiss against the top of her head, breathing in her scent and shutting his eyes, both of them drifting into a peaceful slumber.

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helluvapoison · 2 months

Note

Hi! Idk if your request is open but if it is, can I request a little moment of Zestiel having some alone time with his wife/husband asking him why did they marry him—since there wasn't really that much of information about Zestiel, let's assume that he's a murderer* when he's alive and the reader found out about it after they've been seeing each other for some time now. Your content is awesome, btw^_^

Till Death

Zestial x Reader

Why did he marry you?

warning: murder, inaccurate zestial lore

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

• It used to be that the honor of a man’s word was enough. A firm handshake would be just as legally binding as a contract

• He almost had it all. The vineyard, the estate, the fortune. None of it made him as joyful as having your hand

• The empty space on your ring finger taunted him daily, his chest pocket heavy with the solution to the void, though you were sweet to remind him you were his in every other way

• “Soon my sweet,” He promised and promised and promised

• It was to be kept well under wraps until the finer details were settled but make no mistake, Zestial had every intention of spoiling you rotten afterwards

• “Thou will not go into business while affiliated with heathens,” His father snarled, his words held the deed to everything high above his head

• Devastated would be an understatement but it didn’t last long. He could rebuild. He could take his knowledge and start over with you by his side from the get go. The ordeal would take longer but it wasn’t impossible and he refused to settle for less than what he was owed

• So his father took the matter into his own hands and paid off your family so you would be sent far, far away

• Zestial always said there would be no distance he couldn’t cross to be beside you, you were forever entangled in the web he’d so lovingly spun for you alone

• However, he’d learned his diligence from the very man who’d isolated you

• You were gone

• What Zestial’s father didn’t teach him, and never could be bothered to learn himself, was patience

• So for him, biding his time was the easiest part. Alone, he pried his feet from the mud and wrapped his aching hands in salve. Pain would be his companion, the friend that drove him closer to his goal. Slowly earning back his father’s trust until the i’s were dotted and the t’s were crossed— in ink this time, and everything he wanted was his once again

• Well.. almost everything

• “A toast,” Zestial was the first at the table to raise his glass, “To the ever growing vines of this business, nary shall they be corrupted by the weak. A promise from thyself unto thee.”

• “Here, here!” His guests chanted, emptying their glass flutes in a single swig

• Zestial’s smile spread wider and wider as the merriment morphed to coughing, gagging and, finally, gurgled screams. Crimson spewed from their lips and denied them their final breaths

• All except for his father who, thanks to the wine laced with something different, was frozen in horror to Zestial’s left. He would be last to face the wrath he unleashed upon himself

• “Son—“

• “Silence! There is nothing thou can say to escape thou’s fate. Return my beloved to me. Tell me where they reside this instant or I will burn this wretched land to ashes with thee inside of it. Tell me now, and I will find it in my blackened heart to show thou mercy thou doth not deserve.”

• “Go to hell.”

• “I shall meet thee there and make thy death far more painful than this one.”

• Zestial watched as the flames engulfed his childhood home and the fields he’d spent years learning. As unforgiving as he, they left nothing spared

• The sins on his back were nothing compared to the crippling loneliness that only followed him to the afterlife

• He was so sure he’d never see you again. You were too good for Hell, too pure for Heaven, but that didn’t stop him from exerting every option available to find a single sign of something undeniably you

• There was no way you would recognize him in this state, he hardly could himself and it only got harder as the days stretched into eons. He’s long forgotten his old self, name included

• Be it his devotion or a miracle, he cared not for which was responsible, one hellish day a familiar pair of eyes met his and he knew

• Confident his empire wouldn’t crumple without him, Zestial disappeared for weeks. And in any case it wasn’t uncommon for him to slink into the shadows, leaving everyone on edge for his inevitable return

• When he eventually emerged it was with you beside him, a very obvious claim shining around your ring finger

• Never did he get tired of the overwhelming joy that gripped his soul seeing the ring on your finger. The list he thought would forever be incomplete now contently filled out and lied to rest

• Now, sitting by the lime green fire with you enveloped in his cape, you reveal you’re plagued by such thoughts?

• Why did he wait for you? Why did he look for you? Why did he marry you?

• “Beloved, ask not such a foolish thing. Life was cruel without thee and death brought no relief. Only thou could fill the cracks of my mind, body and soul. If I should forget it all again, well, doth would be a measly price to pay if only to save room in my mind for you.”

╰(*´︶`*)╯♡ after rewatching zestial’s scenes i’m tweaking the way he speaks. i hope you don’t mind me inserting my zestial agenda aha! enjoy and thank you!

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel headcanons #zestial imagine #zestial x reader #hazbin hotel zestial #zestial headcanon

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heliads · 9 months

Text

You and Me (A Whole Lot of History)

Based on this request: "y/n is a historian with access to old schematics so kaz hires her for a job. he keeps inventing reasons to find her afterwards until he’s forced to admit his feelings"

masterlist

You only get to study about half a chapter of your textbook before you’re interrupted by a criminal. It’s not like you mind having to put down the heavy tome you’ve been leafing through; estate law of centuries past is not your idea of some fun light reading, but you’ve been helping to piece together some fragments of an old mansion from pre-Unsea Kerch, and you’d really like to be able to decide if the master of the house your tattered documents keep referring to is the eldest son or the second eldest.

It all depends on very specific details that refuse to make themselves known to you. So no, having an excuse to stop all this isn’t terrible, you’re just a little distracted by the fact that you’re in a private study room in the historical library of Ketterdam, and you know for certain that you locked the door that has just been opened.

You know who’s just broken into your study space. Not personally, that is, but just as well as any resident of the Barrel knows the one they call Dirtyhands– through bated breath, in stolen whispers of expensive heists and bodies left behind, no traitors tolerated and none allowed to live. The fact that Kaz Brekker has taken it upon himself to enter your study room of all the empty ones still available in the library is not promising, to say the least, although you have absolutely no idea what you’ve done to appear on his radar.

You are, in fact, quite possibly the last person Kaz would even be aware of. You’re a historian, specializing in a few select centuries and powerful families in the Kerch area. This means that you spend most of your time in old and crumbling buildings, not out in shady dealings or shootouts or any of the other places Brekker tends to frequent.

This doesn’t seem to stop Kaz from closing the door behind him and taking a seat opposite your desk. He folds his hands in front of him, idly contemplating the textbook you’re still supposed to be perusing, but remains frustratingly silent.

It falls to you, then, to pick up a conversation, which is unfair considering the fact that he’s the one who’s barged in on your space. “That door was locked for a reason, you know,” you point out.

Kaz arches a dour brow. “Yes. I opened it.”

He’s not making this easy for you. “Why?” You ask.

Instead of answering you, Brekker jerks his chin towards the book in front of you. “What’s that about?”

There is no earthly reason one of the most notorious gang leaders in the Barrel should be asking about the homework you’re doing for your job. Still, he has, so you must answer, no matter how confused you are about it. “Inheritance disputes of the fourteenth century Kerch nobles. Why, are you interested in checking it out after me?”

Kaz scoffs. “No. I just want your information, not that book.”

You feel yourself leaning back slightly. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Trust me, whatever information you’re after won’t be found from me.”

Kaz shakes his head once. “No, actually, I think it will be.”

He reaches for something under his coat, and you’re hit with the brief terror that he’ll get a gun or something and you’ll die here and now, but then his gloved hand comes back out into the light carefully holding a rolled up piece of paper, which he smooths out onto the desk before you. You tuck your textbook away so you can get a better look at the thing, more curious now than afraid.

It turns out to be a copy of house blueprints. As you study it, you realize that you recognize the place. You were there recently for a project for your employer, checking up on the preservation of a few rooms. “Is this the old van Haarst mansion?”

Brekker’s eyes flash, reminding you of the slick of oil on water. “You know about it?”

“Yeah,” you say, peering further at the blueprints. “I’ve worked there before.”

Kaz nods, looking pleased. “I’d like to buy your services. I need information on this building and your silence on the matter. Are you interested?”

Your brow furrows. “What information do you need?”

To answer you, Brekker tosses a stack of kruge onto the table. You can see the numbers on the edges, and know even without counting that this payment will be far more than what you’d earn even for a year at your job. This is the deal, then. He’ll only tell you more if you accept his money, and if you accept his money, you agree to whatever he wants.

Honestly, not the worst bargain. Ghezen knows you’ve had worse supervisors on other jobs. At least you can trust Brekker to be honest so long as you are too.

You put the stack of bills into your bag, and turn back to the blueprints with renewed interest. “Are you trying to get in or get out?”

“Both,” Kaz tells you. “I’m assuming you’ve heard rumors of Marysa’s Diamond?”

You choke out a laugh. “Have I ever.”

Marysa’s Diamond is like the Saints in flesh for historians. The van Haarst family was exceedingly rich, and one of their matriarchs, Marysa van Haarst, was said to be in possession of an incredible gemstone, the diamond named after her. It disappeared when the family abandoned Kerch for Ravka following the death of three of Marysa’s sons, and no one has seen it since.

You blow out a low breath. “You think it’s in the old house somewhere? Historians have been all over the place, we would have found it if it was there.”

“It wasn’t always,” Kaz tells you. “It’s been moved there. I have good information that the van Haarst house will act as a safe house for the stone while it’s being moved from hand to hand. They’ll keep it there overnight. I will be entering the estate with a team and taking it.”

He goes silent, as if waiting for any objections. You don’t really care about the morals of the affair, though. You have your money and you get to be the foremost expert on a historical favorite of yours. Robberies happen every day, not something to get teary eyed over.

When you don’t speak up, Kaz continues on. “They’ll be keeping the stone in a place no one can find. There will be a window of exactly one bell in which the old owner leaves the house and is replaced by the new owner, carefully staggered so the stadwatch aren’t alerted by too many people in the estate after hours. That means it would have to be a damn good hiding spot. If you were hiding a gemstone in this house, where would you put it?”

You consider the blueprints before you again. There are a thousand and one places you could hide something in there– tucked inside the grand piano, in a safe, under one of a hundred carpets– and there’s no way Brekker’s men could find it in time.

However, that means the person meant to be picking up the diamond wouldn’t be able to find it as well. They would have to find somewhere in the estate hidden to everyone else but the recipient of the gemstone.

The answer occurs to you in a flash. “Oh,” you say, “Secret room.”

Brekker blinks at you. “What?”

You point at the map. “It’s totally going in the secret room. I mean, they don’t want it to be found by anyone else, right? That’s, like, the whole point of a secret room.”

Were it not for the fact that he’s, well, Dirtyhands, you’d swear his voice turns sarcastic. “That was my understanding of a secret room, yes. Where is it?”

Were it not for the fact that he is in fact Dirtyhands, you would roll your eyes. “There’s an entrance off of the secondary hallway leading off of the dining room. Unlock the door using a little latch under the bottom of the ugly painting of the old duchess of Belendt.”

He stares at you. “How do you know that? It’s not on any map.”

You lift a shoulder. “I wanted to know why they’d keep such a foul portrait around. The elites of that time period were huge on perfectionism, every one of their paintings had to be absolutely glorious or it would get removed from their sight. That’s why there are so many old paintings in the surrounding villages, actually, the nobles would just leave these expensive oil paintings outside the castle because they couldn’t take the sight of them anymore. There was no reason they’d let such a dreadful portrait stay unless it was hiding something.”

You had been focused on the map in your hands during the majority of this little speech, fondly recalling little anecdotes from your history classes, but you remember yourself soon enough. You look up and Kaz is staring at you, almost fascinated.

You feel your cheeks heat up. “Sorry, I’m rambling. Got distracted.”

He shakes his head brusquely, although there’s a hint of pink on the tops of his cheekbones that wasn’t there before. “No, no. It’s important information. So we should be aware of any suspicious paintings?”

“Yeah,” you muse, “just look for the bad ones. Pretend you’re an art critic or something.”

The edges of Kaz’s dour glare turn themselves up into something of a humored smirk. “Will do. Thank you for the advice, L/N.”

You nod. “Have fun with the heist. Hey, if you see any older books on the history of the family, would you mind grabbing one or two for me? I’ve been trying to do some research for ages, but the library keeps stalling on getting resources to me, no matter how many requests I send.”

Kaz’s brows draw close together. “That would be unbelievably risky. We can’t take more things than we need or we could be caught.”

You grin. “I know, I’m kidding. Just a joke.”

Kaz’s expression lightens microscopically. “Yes, a joke.”

He leaves soon enough, pushing his chair away from the desk and rolling up the blueprints with a crisp snap of the paper. He warns you to keep your mouth shut about the plans, but you’re not sure that he does it with the fire you expected of a notorious gang leader. Instead, the words are soft, like he’s cautioning a friend.

You don’t hear from him again, not for a while. You’re not sure when this mysterious diamond deal is going down, and you doubt the unlucky men Kaz will grift can go to the stadwatch about this. In fact, you have no idea if it’s happened at all until about a week later. You had gone about your day like normal, not suspecting a thing until the moment you unlocked your door.

And there, centered perfectly on your desk when you get back home despite the fact that you never gave keys to your apartment to anyone, are three books. Aged, cracked covers, gilded writing. You hesitantly pick up one and read the title under your breath: A History of the Bendtsen Family, 1200-1500. Another: The van Almelos of the Belendt Region: Two Centuries of Political and Economic Legacy.

Kaz. He actually got the books. Never mind that you were joking, never mind that he knew that, Kaz Brekker went out of his way to risk a heist just so he could help you out with a research project. Saints. And they say chivalry is dead.

You don’t expect to get the chance to thank him for it until he randomly crosses your path not two weeks later. He’s alone again, miraculously turning up outside your company door just as you leave to walk home. Kaz informs you that he’ll need your services again, exchanging some kruge for more words. This time, he wants details on an office building down the street, one that used to be a city hall. You’re able to take him in yourself thanks to access granted to all historians for historic places, and turn a blind eye when he grabs a few documents regarding interport commerce.

He walked you to your door that night, lingering over the threshold like a teenager not wanting to leave a first date. He shows up again after a month, using an excuse that’s less polished and more finicky. The next time, he doesn’t have an excuse at all. It’s just him, standing in front of you. No money, no plan. He just wanted to see you.

Kaz calls it ‘checking up on an investment,’ but you get the feeling that it’s not something he usually does. He walks with you by the water, he buys you drinks at a bar not even in his own pocket. It’s unusually sweet, so you can’t bite back your questions anymore and confront him about it when he hovers in front of your door for the dozenth time.

“What is this about, Kaz?”

He blinks at you in surprise. “What?”

You gesture between the two of you. “All of this. This isn’t for a job anymore. Why?”

Kaz looks away. It’s rare for him to not have a perfect poker face. Perhaps it’s yet another sign that this means something more, something that you can’t help but wish for. “I wanted to make sure you were safe. I’ve called on you for several jobs that can risk the players involved in the game.”

You shake your head. “You’ve gone out of your way to make sure no one knows about me. It’s just us, Kaz. You did that on purpose.”

“Yes,” he admits at last, “I did. I wanted something for myself. Something that wasn’t as bad as the rest.”

He risks a glance over at you, and his shoulders square slightly when he realizes you aren’t trying to fight him on this, or worse, leave. “You’re good, Y/N. Good things don’t last long around here. I want to make sure you do. I want you to stay forever.”

With me, he means. He wants to keep you in his life. His eyes flicker to your hands, and although you know he won’t take them, not yet, he wants to. That’s why you finally put together the pieces. Kaz Brekker is not good at verbalizing his feelings. Perhaps he never will be. This is the best shot he can give you, and he could not even say the word ‘love’ if it ripped his heart out with bleeding fingertips.

You've had so much over the years, and it has never been enough. Not once, not ever. A thousand coffers could empty themselves, a hundred men die and be reborn. It has never once stopped you. This, by contrast, is nothing. A canal rat's promise, most likely broken before the night is through. You know it, Kaz knows it. This is nothing.

Yet it is the most true thing you have ever had, the one solid stone in a wall about to come crumbling down. It is small, barely there at all, but still worth it. Maybe that is why you stay, for the hope. For him. It is enough.

grishaverse tag list: @rogueanschel, @cameronsails, @deadreaderssociety, @mxltifxnd0m, @story-scribbler, @retvenkos, @eclliipsed, @mayfieldss, @gods-fools-heroes, @bl606dy, @auggie2000, @baju69, @crazyhearttragedy

#kaz brekker #kaz brekker imagines #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker oneshot #grishaverse #grishaverse imagines #grishaverse x reader #grishaverse oneshot #shadow and bone #shadow and bone imagines #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone oneshot #kaz #kaz imagines #kaz x reader #kaz oneshot

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daydream-cement · 1 year

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omg are your requests indeed open??? if so, can i request a wing kink lucifer x fem!reader fic :) i am aware it's been done a couple of times now but. i am garbage and i want more ahahah the details are up to you, i just wanna see submissive lucifer *returns to my the garbage can*

Bathing Together (NSFW)

Lucifer Morningstar x Reader

Author's Note: I love me some of The Wing Thing™. Thank you to THE Lucifer writer (@alexusonfire) for beta-ing this fic. ilysm.

Every move you made had the deliberate purpose of driving the Morningstar insane.

You sat positioned behind them in a grand bathtub. They were seated between your legs submerged to the sternum in the steaming water, their head thrown back in ecstasy as you ran a damp sponge across the ridges of their wings. You could tell they were still holding back as Lucifer only offered you affirming hums, their eyes remaining shut and mouth closed.

It had been your idea to bathe together. You had discovered their secret love of having their wings stroked and caressed, and since then, you were desperate to find the lengths you could go in bringing them pleasure.

Their shoulders shook as little jolts of electricity traveled through their body. With a determined gaze, you dip the sponge back in the water once more before lifting it back to their wings. When the heated sponge returned to the ridge of their wing, the Morningstar released a gasp, their whole body tensing and then vibrating in response.

Taking a risk, you venture downwards, taking the warm sponge across the membrane of their wing. You were ever so gentle in your actions, treating the wing anatomy with utmost care as it gave way lightly under the pressure of your cleaning.

After a few swipes of the sponge, you dip it back in the water and raise it to their wings to repeat the same steps as before. The Morningstar instinctually reclined back against you causing you to lean back against the stonewall of the bathtub. The pleasure they drew from your gentle caressing of this portion of their wings was more relaxing, the kind of sensation that could lull them to sleep.

You allow them to enjoy the relaxation for a few minutes, switching to their other wing when the first felt sufficiently cared for. You weren’t looking for them to sleep, however. You wanted them to be shaking and writhing with pleasure.

Dropping the sponge away from their wings entirely, you release the sponge into the water and bring your hands down beneath the surface, winding them around the Morningstar’s middle. You closed the final space between you and Lucifer, your chest pressing against their back, and your lips hovering over the crux of their wings.

Your breath skimming over their wings resulted in the angel sitting up straighter, their wings flexing in anticipation. With hands roaming to Lucifer’s breasts, you finally place your lips upon their wings, pressing a kiss to the joint of both wings. The breathy moan that escaped their lips generated a throbbing between your legs.

“Oh, little angel...” Lucifer couldn’t contain themselves, their voice shaking as they spoke.

This reaction spurned you onwards, your tongue darting from your lips to drag a long lick across the space you had kissed. The next moan from the Morningstar came out strangled, their tall form doubling over involuntarily as their wings stretched out horizontally as far as they could go.

You were sure Lucifer folding over was their attempt to avoid your mouth, not wanting to show the vulnerability that came from touching their wings.

“No, no, no, my love...” You scold, fingers finding their nipples to pinch and twist, resulting in their spine straightening back towards you. They hissed in response, not appreciating the way you so easily controlled and manipulated their body.

There you found the sweet spot, the gentle kissing and licking of any available portion of their wings while your hands kept busy with teasing their nipples. The Morningstar began to rock back and forth, shoulder and bicep muscles contracting and relaxing, causing their whole body to shake as their mind struggled to pick a sensation to focus on.

“P-please, lamb… Don’t- Don’t stop…” Lucifer’s voice quivered as they begged for more which caused you to bite your bottom lip to suppress a moan. Their sounds of pleasure were intoxicating for you as they were unlike anything you had ever heard before.

In turn, you then chose to tentatively scrape your teeth against the hardened ridge of their wing, leaving the Morningstar a complete puddle in your arms. The angel cried out, a noise that made you wonder if it was a sob.

You repeated the action, pressing your tongue to each of the spots where you scraped your teeth. Lucifer began to unravel, repeating the word ‘more’ over and over again until it became an unintelligible mumble as the words ran together. And while you couldn’t see the look on the Morningstar’s face, you would have been pleased to see the angel nearly in tears as the sensation of your mouth was almost too much for the immortal to handle.

The steady rocking of Lucifer’s hips drew your mind to something even more pleasurable for the Morningstar. Your left hand released their breast and you pushed the now free hand between their legs, fingers finding their clit with ease. The kneading of Lucifer’s breast and teasing of their clit became secondary to your mouth’s ministrations against their wings.

The warm water began lapping at the edges of the tub when Lucifer’s thrashing grew more unhinged. Their hands reached back, clawing for your thighs, grasping them tightly as they bucked their hips against your hand.

It felt as if your bodies were melding into one. Their pleasure was your pleasure.

You were struggling to get leverage over the angel, their size much greater than your own. Relinquishing their breast, you draw your hand back, shifting it up the Morningstar’s back and up around their neck, squeezing as you spoke, “Tell me what you want, my little devil.”

“Make me come, lamb… Make me come.”

You do as you are told, pressing more firmly against their clit as you circle the nub. With your hands busy, you refocus your attention on their divine wings.

You place long languid licks to the upper ridges of their wings causing your sweet Morningstar to thrash and moan in your arms. Their cries grew louder bordering on that of a scream. You were sure many of the demons outside their chamber walls could hear their master’s cries of pleasure.

The rough texture of Lucifer’s wings was delicious against your tongue, a sensation you were sure you wanted to experience again in the near future. You slid your tongue over their wings again and again, until much of the parts of their wings closest to you are shining with your saliva.

“Oh, lamb… I’m- I am about to-“ Lucifer’s words came out strangled, every fiber of their being attempting to restrain themselves from coming so soon.

There was no stopping the tidal wave about to crash over the Morningstar.

They fully unraveled before you when you opened your jaw wide, taking a portion of their wing in your mouth to gently bite down.

Lucifer’s head was thrown back, a guttural moan escaping as their nails dug into your thighs. You braced yourself against the angel, fingers gripping their throat even tighter and your left hand fingers pausing their work against their clit. Their wings spread outwards and gave a great jolt causing the water to churn wildly, spilling over the edges of the tub.

With the shuddering and shaking beginning to subside, Lucifer’s wings drew to a close and they turned over so they may gradually slip deeper into your embrace. Even while you had been romantically involved for years, this level of vulnerability with Lucifer was still incredibly meaningful to you.

Their hair had become mussed and disheveled, the frantic actions of your lovemaking and the humidity creating the amusing display.

Their head rested on your chest and you allowed yourself to draw them near, one hand coming to rest on the back of their head while the other traveled down their back, fingers dancing dangerously close to their wings once more. Their breath was still ragged. They had never experienced this level of pleasure with someone other than you.

Lucifer let out a long sigh, their hands danced up your sides so they could rest at your collarbone, “No one pleases me as you do, starlight.”

Their chest pressed against yours and your legs intertwined, generating a deeper embrace between you and the Morningstar. The slickness generated from the water created the most beautiful sensation between your bodies; enjoying time in the bath with your angel was certainly an activity to repeat again sometime.

“I am always honored you give me such control, my sweet sin…” You take a hand to their hair, combing down the flyways that marred the being’s typically flawless curls.

Lucifer only gave a pleased hum, their hand lifting from your body to gesture quickly causing a few inches of water to drain. This left you chilled, only momentarily, before the water turned back on, filling the tub with steaming water once more. It was obvious the Morningstar had no intention of exiting the bath in the near future.

As Lucifer dozed on your chest, your half lidded eyes remained trained on the black, flexing wings that hovered just above the water’s surface. Only if Lucifer knew the additional plans you had for them once you retired to the Morningstar’s bedchambers.

#gwendoline christie #lucifer morningstar #the sandman #sandman #lucifer #smut #lucifer morningstar smut #sub!lucifer #lucifer morningstar (sandman)#lucifer morningstar (sandman) x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader

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moniibu · 6 months

Text

*✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY X FEM READER *:･ﾟ✧

things to watch out for: yandere themes, bullying, possessiveness, normal yandere things, etc.

word count: I was too lazy to count.

summary: you move schools and meet the bully of the school who is head of the delinquents, skips school, yada yada yada.

this is a LESBIAN post, so MEN & MEN ALIGNED PEOPLE DNI !!

notes: new post after like a month lol. thank you to EVERYONE who like and reblogged/reposted my work. all the support means a lot to me. requests ARE OPEN, and if there is anything specific you want to see, just let me know!! i hope you enjoy my new work, *✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY X FEM READER *:･ﾟ✧

*✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ who sees that you’re new. she knows everyone she bullies, and hasn’t seen your face before. as she usually does with fresh meat, she plans on picking on you and making sure that she makes your life a living hell.

*✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ who comes up to you, ready to see your scared face. she’ll make it so you want to move schools.

while you grab your books for next class, she comes over, slamming your locker before you can. she gets ready to taunt you, but stops as she sees your face. you’re so beautiful. she’s come across good looking people, but you stand out to her. the way you look up at her, your lips tugging in disgust upon seeing her; all of it makes her want more.

*✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ who begins to follow you everywhere. she’s forgotten about all the other losers she bullies during the day, her sole attention now on you. the people that she’s bullied feel bad for you -as they know how bad it can get- but are glad it’s not them anymore.

*✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ who “bullies” you into being with her at all times. you’re now only allowed to sit next to her at lunch along with the rest of the delinquent group. when you’re in your shared class(es) with her, she makes sure that the only other seat available is either right next to her or on lap.

*✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ who doesn’t come to class, pay attention, or do any of the work that is required for her unless you’re there. if she finds out that you didn’t come to school that day, she straight up skips. it’s gotten to the point where teachers beg for you to come to class so that she can do her work. they’ll give you extra credit, let you miss a test; it doesn’t matter, please show up so *✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ can come to class and pass!

*✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ who as much as she brands herself as a cold-hearted delinquent, desires your praise. she’s in denial about it, and if you ask her she’ll decline, but if she catches you giving anyone praise other than herself, she’ll explode on you. she’ll act like she hates it, but when you pat her head or very very rarely give her a kiss on the cheek and call her a good girl for doing her work, she is over the moon, and wants more.

*✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ who can’t stand it when you give other people attention. why are you letting that loser talk to you? or letting that tall strong guy ask you for your number? can’t you see that she’s right there? she can be everything you want and more. stop wasting your time with those idiots when you could be spending more time with her.

*✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ who shifts from being a “bully” to a extremely overprotective and overbearing friend. you want to go out with your friends? she wants to know who they are and every single detail about them. she’ll drive you over and you better call her when you’re ready so she can come and pick you up.

*✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ who makes it clear to her friends and everyone else at the school that you are off limits. you found a guy you’re interested in? all of a sudden he jumps when you two make eye contact. the teacher changed seats and you two are no longer sitting together? well all of a sudden that student never shows up, and when he does, he’s very adamant about changing seats with her.

*✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ who stops from taking your things and being rude and instead buys you gifts and little trinkets that she found while out and thinking about you. from now on, start expecting a gift bag in your locker -even though you never gave her your combination-, or her walking up to you in the morning with a bag in her hand and her arms open for a hug.

*✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ who decides that she wants you to start depending on her. she wants you to look at her in a loving light, and will do anything she can to make sure that you see it. she studies what you look for in a person and make sure she matches it to a t.

you like people with strong muscles? she has biceps that are hard to hide in her shirts, and will gladly show them off when grabbing your waist or picking you up.

you like people who care and know the little details? she’s here and remembers every single thing you tell her and always compliments you about a change in jewelry or how you style your hair.

*✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ who makes it where you can’t get a job just by a couple of phone calls. all of a sudden jobs that shouted “hiring” don’t want your services, and the jobs you do manage to get let you go after the second week.

*✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ who doesn’t let you forget that she comes from a wealthy family. you need money for some food? here’s a twenty dollar bill. you want to go the mall and buy outfits and makeup? just call her and she’ll be ready for you. she’ll be there right along side you holding your bags as she lets you spend her money on her black platinum credit card.

*✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ who doesn’t mind when you get used to having some pay for everything you want to do. that’s what she’s here for. she doesn’t care if you become bratty with her money, or that you spend it all dolling yourself up. it’s all yours, now and in the future. she’ll never run out, so spend as much as you want.

*✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ who just finally accepts that she loves you. she loves you, and wants you to spend the rest of your life with her. she has everything you need. please, pick her. you won’t regret it.

*✧･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧ *✧･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧ *✧･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧ *✧･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧ *✧･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧ *✧

this idea was made and created by @moniibu. all rights are reserved to @moniibu, and you are NOT allowed to steal, copy, or translate this work.

November 2023.

#lesbian #moniibu #soft yandere #yandere #yandere female x female reader #yandere fem bully #yandere wlw #yandere x you #rich yandere #requests are open #yandere drabble #yandere x reader

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azsazz · 7 months

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More vamp azzy as we all desperately need.

This one is a request from an anon: “Okay so for vamp Az. I’m not sure if vampires eat anything other than blood but if not, then imagine him trying to cook anything for reader because she got sick or something. I don’t want to get into too many details since you only asked for ideas so totally no pressure! I fell hopelessly in love with vamp Az and am so excited for more!! ❤️‍🔥And spooky season is coming and it just fits perfectly 😌🧛🏼”

**Not edited!**

A clatter from the kitchen shocks you from your sleep. Your eyes are heavy and sore, nose stuffed and mouth dry. You cough a little as you swallow, trying to wet your throat and gather your bearings.

Your blanket sits heavy on your body, and you notice not only one, but three thick comforters piled up and tucked under your chin. You’re a cocoon of warmth, and despite the chill wracking your bones, sweat dampens your forehead.

The couch is as good as any bed, but the room is missing the body of the vampire you’ve become accustomed to seeing. Azriel doesn’t need sleep, not that you have noticed anyway, but he often never lets you leave his sight, even if he knows you’re in your rooms or his excellent hearing picks up on you prowling around his home during the daylight hours.

You’ve grown into his schedule, sleeping away the days and staying up during the nights. You hadn’t even realized you’d been doing it until as of late. It had been purely survival instinct at first, to stay up for as long as possible. You pulled open the thick, black, heavy curtains to let the sun stream through the windows, hoping it would keep Azriel away from you, but he’d only reached into the blazing sun to pull them shut again. It how his hands got like this, you realized, when they had started sizzling and one had caught fire from the sun. He hadn’t hissed, but the hazel of his eyes gleamed in a way that had scared you and made your stomach twist. It was paired with a hint of fang, the curve of his lips telling you all you needed to know about him.

You weren’t going anywhere.

The other night, you had attempted escape, to no avail.

Azriel had been away at one of his meetings, with whom or about what you didn’t know, but you’d managed to shimmy open one of the ancient windows. There was a storm raging, and it seemed like the perfect escape. The rain would cover your scent and would wash away your footprints in the mud.

You hadn’t anticipated being hunted through the woods.

Being out in the rain that long hadn’t been good for you, but the fucking you received when Azriel had found you had almost made it worth it. He’d taken you right there in the middle of the forest, and then again when he wrangled you home and lit a fire in the hearth so big it rivaled those of Hel. He’d been silent the entire time, even as he lied you down to dry and fucked you deep. You thought your shivering body was due to his cold hands and wicked tongue, not the oncoming cold.

The noise is followed by a low string of curses that you’re sure he means to keep soft. Your eyes slide shut again, exhausted and too achy to move.

It’s better to keep silent, not draw his attention to you no matter how badly you want a glass of water.

It doesn’t take long for him to enter the room. He holds a bowl in one hand and helps you sit up with the other. You can’t help but notice the bulge of his biceps from underneath his tight shirt as he does so, and you didn’t think that your mouth could possibly get any drier, but here you are.

You stare at the bowl wearily, then back up at him, heart stumbling at the nervous look on his face.

“You can cook?” You ask, watching as he paces to the hearth to stoke the fire. He avoids your eyes, not wanting to see the sympathy swimming in them.

“I used to be able to, once upon a time,” Azriel’s voice is soft, longing. He can no longer consume food that sustains you, you realize. You find yourself aching for him, a little.

“And now you can’t eat,” you trail off, glancing to your bowl again. It smells delicious, the scents of vegetables and spices filling the room with warmth. Your freezing fingers are beginning to thaw already.

Azriel shakes his head in response, gesturing to the bowl. You pick up the spoon, dipping it into the bowl. You see the carrots and shallots swimming in it, along with barley and herbs that make it taste like heaven.

You can’t help but to groan pleasurably, the flavors exploding on your tongue. “For someone who can’t eat, this is delicious.”

“I can eat, but there’s no use,” Azriel says, eyes intent on you as he watches you take another bite. He’s filled with pleasure at the sight of you enjoying something he’d made for you, and he can admit that he did have fun being in the kitchen again. “Everything tastes boring and it’s not the kind of thing that can sustain me.”

Right. Your stomach swirls, thinking about the blood he needs to consume in order to survive. You feel a little sick at the thought that this is what he’s taken you for, to use you for pleasure to ultimately drain you one day.

You shiver but shove the thought away. Azriel’s eyes grow warmer with each spoonful you take, and there’s something itching at you to be nice to him, despite everything that’s happened between the both of you. He had taken you in from the rain, most likely saving your life in the process, and now he’s feeding you.

You find a part of yourself wanting to return the favor.

“Eat with me,” you say, patting the spot you’d just sat up from. It’s piled with pillows but you can surely shove them aside to make room for Azriel.

“What?” He asks, brows furrowing deeply. He looks like he’s about to protest but you’re cutting him off before he can.

“Come on, come eat with me.”

Azriel stares at you like you’ve grown a second head and you fight the urge to roll your eyes.

“I just told you that it doesn’t matter if I eat.”

“Then come eat.”

It’s clear you’re not giving up on this. Azriel sighs, pushing to his feet and striding towards the kitchen to get his own bowl.

But you’re a stubborn one. He doesn’t expect you to grab for him, and you’re as quick as an asp. He’s not expecting the feel of your hands on his exposed forearms, sleeves of his thick, black shirt rolled up to keep away from the food as he was cooking.

“You can share with me.”

“No,” he says, voice harsh and demanding. “You ned to eat.”

You quirk a brow. “Afraid of catching a little cold?”

Azriel can’t contain the rolling of his eyes and you want to laugh at how human it makes him look.

“I can’t catch a cold.”

“Of course you can’t,” you agree, shoving the pillows onto the floor and biting back a grin at Azriel’s grimace. “Now sit down and eat.”

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