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honeydippedwaffles · 4 months

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Fading Light

Summary: Tav changed in order to be with Astarion. She never minded adjusting her life to be with her vampire but the guilt he feels for taking her away from her life is only growing. Something has to give eventually.

Content Warnings: She/Her Tav

Word Count: 2.2k words

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

She’d always considered herself to be adaptable. She had to be, considering everything that had happened to her in the very recent past. From the moment she woke up on the awful mindflayer ship to the climax of it all, nothing had been a given. She’d been forced to change to save her friends so she had to be rather accepting of new situations.

It was why she had figured becoming nocturnal wouldn’t bother her much at all.

She’d hung dark curtains in her room to prevent the sun from waking her during the days. If she missed it, all she would do was wake up earlier and step out to watch it set before Astarion joined her for the night.

She didn’t mind living like that. Sometimes she missed things with her friends but she made the effort to see them and they responded kindly. She'd adapted.

But Astarion hated it.

He watched her wistfully when she made her way to the door during the sunlight hours – forced to leave early to pick up groceries or something while the merchants still sold their wares. He’d give her a kiss on the cheek and wish her well but she’d be a fool to miss his mood after.

She tried to bring it up and he artfully dodged around the idea. He’d always been far too good at avoiding topics.

The day it started getting worse started when she lost track of time early in the morning. She’d built a solid relationship with various traders and workers around the city. Those who knew things and could send her down the track to a potential cure if they came across it. Mostly what that meant was dealing with their ridiculous requests though.

Could you find my lost necklace (taken by his sister to pay off her gambling debts)? My daughter went missing, could you find her (she ran away to marry a hobgoblin, of all things)? Somebody’s stealing my goods, find them (rats).

This time though, they found the missing caravans by following the scent of rotted meat until they came across gnolls. They took barely any effort to get rid of but they’d set up their den in some old, crumbling houses.

And she could never pass down the opportunity to investigate.

The stone walls had been destroyed in a fire and, as she nosed around, she came across various herbs and poultices that promised this house may have been an apothecary’s stopover. Most of the stone walls had crumbled but a few stood and it was while she opened one of the drawers that she felt him creep up behind her.

His lips brushed against her throat, barely there but enough to send shivers of gooseflesh over her skin.

She tilted her head to the side in an invite and he nipped at the sensitive skin with a small chuckle. The chill of his breath over the shell of her ear drew an embarrassingly small sound from her throat. He muttered something she couldn’t quite hear and nipped at her earlobe with sharp fangs.

She fought the flush on her cheeks, turned around and kissed him. Iron lingered on his frozen lips as he pushed her against the walls. Her fingers crept up the front of his armour until she found purchase to pull him close.

No matter how often he kissed her, her heart raced just the same as it had that first time by the river. But he touched her with such reverence now; held her like he wanted to make sure she never left.

Not that she planned to.

She tilted her head back to draw a small gasp of air and he immediately fell on her throat; nipped at her collarbone and drew stuttered breaths from her lungs.

But the pulse of pleasure as his fingers skimmed her thighs quickly disappeared when she spotted the edge of the horizon beginning to lighten. The sun had begun to rise and they were still far from the city. They had to get moving soon.

She released her hold on his armour, her fingers aching from the grip she’d had. The slight concern pulsed in her veins and overthrew anything else. “We need to leave ‘Starion.”

“Aw,” he complained and looked up at her with a wicked glint in his eyes. The one that she knew she’d do anything for. “You weren’t scared of some dirt the other night,” he purred. “Are you worried about the gnolls judging us?”

She laughed and he took the opportunity to kiss her again. She moaned into his mouth as he eased his way past her lips. How easy it was to lose herself in him. She could spend the rest of her life in his arms and be perfectly happy but to do that, she needed him to not burn into ash.

She broke the kiss with every ounce of her willpower. “The sun’s coming up.”

He turned to look over his shoulder and an immediate distaste darkened his expression. “Right,” he said. “Forgot that sunrises are one of those things I’m not allowed to see anymore.”

He stepped away and she desperately wanted to draw him back. The sudden change in his mood hurt her though she knew she wasn’t the cause.

“We can continue when we get back to the house, if you want?” she offered.

Astarion nodded dismissively but the energy had disappeared into the air with her words. She knew he’d be in a poor mood for at least the rest of the day and she really couldn’t blame him. He’d grown to love the sun over their adventures. It had very nearly changed her decision at the end of it all.

Sometimes she wondered if there had been a way to keep him safe. She worried she hadn’t looked hard enough for the solution.

They hurried to get back to the city. Every ray that crept over the horizon sent another stab of fear into her heart. This area was exposed and once the sun made its appearance, hiding would be a difficult thing.

She almost tripped over the gnoll bodies before she remembered to grab something from the caravan to prove she found it. Even then, she had to leave half her pack behind and hope the various bandits in the area had enough self-preservation not to go sniffing around a den.

She didn’t really trust them to have the intelligence though. She’d had to go find enough of them for their worried friends.

Even with their half-sprinting, they nearly ran out of time and a soft ray caught Astarion’s arm as he ducked through the door, causing him to hiss in pain before he vanished into their house.

She paused in the frame, her attention turned to the sun in half anger and half admiration.

Though she’d adapted to being nocturnal, she did miss the sun. Though she may wish it stayed away so she could spend more time with Astarion outside, she couldn’t help but enjoy the warmth it left on her skin.

Strange how she’d never even appreciated how different life would be without it until she had to make the decision to stay away. It had been her choice but it was his curse. She hated to imagine how much he must miss being around in the daylight hours.

She stepped inside the dark house and closed the door firmly behind her. A few of the wall candles had been lit for her and so she made her way to their small library where he’d settled on one of the loveseats, his arm raw and his attention on the blank book in front of him.

“I’m sorry I lost track of time,” she said though she knew it wasn’t her fault.

She gathered the balm she now kept scattered around the house and gently began to treat the parts of the skin that had been touched. Thankfully, it looked like it wouldn’t blister this time.

“I keep forgetting,” he admitted. “Never thought I would.”

“We’ll just need to be more careful next time. I’ll go visit the merchant later today and see if this is the right caravan. He better pay me well for this.”

She didn’t mean in gold. No, she often traded her services for information on their products and their sources.

Astarion traced the line of her jaw with his fingers, tilted her head toward him and brushed his lips against her own. “You’ve been looking a little weaker than usual,” he mused. “I can’t help but wonder if maybe you’re missing the sun. I hear it’s important for most.”

“I see the sun enough,” she said. “If I needed to be out there more, I’ll just wake up earlier but the city is far too boring without you there.”

“Flatterer,” he said with a laugh she didn’t quite like.

When Astarion laughed properly, the corners of his eyes crinkled in the best way possible. She loved to kiss him on those marks and so she noticed when he laughed without them.

“We’ll find a solution eventually,” she said firmly.

“Well, I can’t say I’m too enthralled by the idea,” he admitted, his tone cooler. “The last two opportunities I had to walk in the sunlight ended up destroyed forever.”

Her blood chilled at the implication and her smoothing of the balm over his arm paused. “Those weren’t options,” she said after the silence stretched too long. “Either one meant you’d be sacrificing something of yourself.”

“Apparently,” he said. “But we don’t really know what would have happened unless you’ve turned into a psychic while I wasn’t looking.”

She’d always thought he appreciated how against his ascension she’d been. Even not knowing much about vampires, she had the idea that that type of power didn’t come without cost. He’d have been giving up more than just his curse in order to walk in the sun.

“Astarion…”

“But it’s fine,” he said. “I still have my soul so that I can stay trapped up in another house for the rest of my life. Except this time, I get to keep somebody else captive with me. Fun.”

She frowned and slowly retracted her touch on his arm. “I’m not trapped,” she said. “I can leave whenever I want to. I’m choosing to be here with you.”

“You’re choosing to be with me,” Astarion said as though she didn’t understand. “But I don’t think you’re choosing to live without the sun. If we could choose right now to make it possible to live a normal life with me, would you take it?”

“That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?” he asked. “Because it seems to me that you aren’t willingly giving up your daylight, you’re sacrificing it.”

She crossed her arms. “Even if it was a sacrifice, it’s my choice.”

“It shouldn’t be. Daylight compliments you too much. You have no idea how beautiful you look when sunshine dapples your skin and flushes your cheeks.” He smiled at her and she winced, knowing he meant to charm. “When I see you in the sun, I know I’m looking upon beauty itself.”

She wouldn’t be distracted by the ceaseless flattery. Not when she knew what he was implying with it.

“If you’re feeling caged up, we can always travel,” she said. “I’ll organise for somebody to watch the house and we can start exploring further than the city’s reach.”

She’d been wanting to stay in one place for a short while to recover from the incident with the mindflayers. It had been somewhat long enough, she figured, that she should be able to head out without worries. A couple of weeks of travel might even do her some good.

The others had been keeping an eye out for any information but they were busy with their own lives. Though maybe one or two of them might be willing to join for an adventure or two.

“There’s no point,” he said. “Darling, let’s not keep pretending we’re going to find a solution we like. Power comes from sacrifice.”

“Not of your soul,” she said. “Or of your mind. There’s a way.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I’m sure of it.”

Astarion stared at her for so long that she felt he might be trying to read her mind as they once were able to. Part of her missed that. She’d liked being able to understand what he wanted easily, even when he tried to hide it.

“Alright,” he said. “If you’re so sure, we can pack after you’ve rested. Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

“I’ll send a letter to Wyll so long,” she said and got up. She met his beautiful eyes and tried not to melt into them. “But just so you know, I’ve always loved the moon far more than I ever did the sun.”

In some ways, she expected it. Part of her knew, even as she drifted off to sleep and he pressed a small kiss to the side of her head. She fell asleep with her hands knotted tightly in the fabric of his shirt, as though it would be enough to keep him there no matter what.

When she woke up in the evening with her heavy curtains pulled aside and a fresh breeze blowing in through the windows, she didn’t need to check to know she wouldn’t find him in the house.

She did anyway. Walked from room to room with a blanket over her shoulders and a sinking heart and when she returned to the bedroom, she moved his pillow to see if a dagger still lay under it.

And seeing it missing was the final thing before the tears started to fall.

#baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate astarion #astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader

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the-californicationist · 4 months

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he trims his beard

Pirate!Price/Reader

God, I want to write thirty damn chapters about Pirate!Price so badly. Someone tell me not to, please? Lol. Otherwise, y'all might be getting thirty chapters of Pirate!Price...

MDNI/18+ TW: virginity reference

Summary:

Captain John Price is king of the Seven Seas, and after he saves your life, you owe him a debt. His fee? To take you as his wife.

The Mediterranean Sea, 1708

“I just can’t…ARGH!” Price slammed his hand down on the porcelain basin as he tried to shave his chin, unable to use his right hand after the accident.

You pitied him, but you were still terribly afraid of him. When he rescued you, you thought he had been Death riding in on his ghostly white ship. But, now that he had been with you going on a fortnight, you realized the hardened, gruff exterior was but a hard shell encasing the soft, warm center of Captain Price, leader of the Queen’s special unit of Her Majesty’s Royal Navy.

You’d been marooned on Cassadaga Island for two days, stripped of your jewelry and purse, beaten within an inch of your life, and left for dead. Your would-be husband had planned the whole attack, hoping to cash in on the dowry money. The joke was on him. Your father had a gambling problem and had not two coins to rub together. The musket he kept above the mantle didn’t even have any gunpowder in it, you were so destitute. As soon as your fiancé found out about your lack of adequate funding, he tossed you overboard on his father’s ship. When Captain Price found you there, you were barely hanging on.

The captain had nursed you back to health, promising to chase down the vagabond and kill him for his dishonor. He’d been true to his word, slaughtering the lot of them, but during his vengeful assault, he’d been shot through the hand with a musket. You’d cleaned the wound, and he had yelled at you for the pain. Now, you were cowering in the corner of your shared room, back to being a prisoner.

He eyed you from his shining mirror above the basin,

“C’mere, girl.”

You edged closer. It wasn’t quick enough for him, so he crossed the room, his black leather boots banging on the ash wood of his quarters.

“I said come here,” he growled, grabbing you by the arm and dragging you over to the wash bowl, razor in his uninjured hand.

He let go of you, straightened himself, and sighed, fixing his harshness into a more genteel tone,

“My apologies,” the words came out of his mouth oily and practiced, not at all his natural verbiage, “Would you be so kind as to trim my beard? With my injury, and my left hand being more useless than a fuckin’ hook, I am at your mercy.”

He handed you the razor and you took it from him,

“Yes, sir - I mean, Captain. Yes, Captain.”

You were stuttering, full of abject fear at his possible retaliation.

As you approached his face with the razor, your hand was trembling and he noticed it. Something in him softened, his icy blue eyes melted just enough for him to hold you around your waist and gaze down at your face,

“It’s okay, pretty girl. My bark and my bite are both nasty, but I won’t harm you.”

His warm body was so close to yours, and with him leaning over you, breathing into your space, you could smell the tobacco scent that lingered in his clothes and beard. His long, braided hair was adorned with gold coins, bent and twisted into it to make little beads, and he had been caramelized by the sun. At the top of his sternum, you could see thick tufts of curly hair poking from his shirt. You tried not to stare.

“Captain,” you asked as sweetly as you could, “Can you sit, sir, so that I may reach your cheek?”

He smiled,

“Alright, love.”

He sat on his down mattress. The bed creaked at the addition of his familiar weight.

At this more convenient angle, you were able to reach his face and neck, so you began your task. You applied the foam in thin layers, working gently as you went, mindful that the captain kept his blades sharp enough to cut steel twine. What you hadn’t realized was that, by requesting that he sit, he was in full, direct eye sight of your heavy breasts. They were corseted up, as was the fashion, but without your normal over-dress to cover you, your nipples ghosted through the thin chemise, hinting at little pebbles beneath the surface. He had not stopped staring at them since you began to shave him.

You looked down while you were cleaning the blade, trying to discreetly glimpse at his growing passion, curious and fearful all at the same time. His breeches could barely contain him, and his thick phallus pressed into the join of his pants. He caught you staring, and he laughed at your rosy complexion, rolling his eyes,

“Ha! Embarrassed at your thirst, pretty girl? Surely those vagabonds did not leave you a virgin during your ordeal.”

“They did, sir,” you admitted, returning to your work, sad at having been discovered sinning with your abject perversion.

He made a small noise, unable to talk while you were shaving his prominent chin, careful around the curve of the bone. He liked to keep the sides long, trimming them with shears, but he always shaved his chin. You followed the razor’s line down his neck, careful not to knick his protruding Adam’s Apple.

“Is that so?” The captain purred.

“Yes, sir. At my fiance’s order.”

“Ah, I see.”

He was silent again, his eyes growing hungrier at the sight of you. His hands returned to your hips as the waves tossed the large vessel on the high seas. You stilled, feeling your belly flutter, wondering if it was seasickness or excitement from his newly focused touch.

“You alright, love? Bit choppy tonight. Storm’s brewin’.”

“Oh,” you nodded, finishing with his neck, “There. All finished, Captain.”

He moaned, holding your hips tighter, situating you between his open knees,

“Shame, that. I was enjoying your skillful hand, pretty girl.”

You blushed, setting the razor cleaned back in its case,

“Thank you, Captain Price. And thank you again for your rescue. I would be dead if not for your mercy. I am in your debt.”

“Aye,” the Captain eyed you slyly, “a steep debt at that. Your dowry should solve that for us. Then, you’ll be on your way. When we land in Málaga, your father can pay me.”

“Sir,” you gasped, “I don’t have one. My father took it to the game house and lost it on his cards.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, and you looked down at him in shame, hoping his mercy was deeper than his greed.

“Hmm, I see. Then, perhaps you would consider a captain as your betrothed?”

You looked up at him in shock, and he was amused by your fear. He used one hand to hold you by the hip, and his other, uninjured hand delicately pulled at the silk ribbon of your bodice, aiming to free you from your painful restraints.

“Y-y-yes…sir,” you could feel the heat on your cheeks, “My family would be most pleased with such a match.”

“Bugger your family, girl. They left you for dead. If you’re mine, you’ll be only mine. Once I have a bounty in my grasp, there’s not a man on God’s green earth who could take it from me. Does that scare you, girl? Do you want to run off home, turn to the cloth, become a nun instead?”

“No,” you shook your head, “No, sir. I owe you my life, and if it is my hand that you wish, I must oblige you.”

“I wish not your hand, love…” His tone was darkly suggestive, “Well, maybe at first.” He laughed warmly.

It was a joke that you had missed, but you knew it was your innocence that kept you from divining its meaning. In your core, your body yearned for him. Seeing him command his men, the fiercest swords on the Seven Seas, watching him take down pirates and vagabonds like it made his heart beat in his breast, it was mystifying. His huge muscles and broad bones made his tall figure all the more imposing, and every port you landed in, women swooned over him while the men cowered in fear. Yes, you’d enjoy him as a husband. No one would ever dare lay a hand on you again.

“What are your terms, Captain, should I accept your proposal?”

He ran a finger into the hole he had created in your leather bodice, letting you feel his warm touch through the thin fabric of your chemise. It electrified you.

“You’ll be mine, and only mine. I’ll be yours, and only yours. When I fill you with my seed, you’ll carry my children, and you’ll love them in earnest. You’ll sail with me, and learn the trade. There’s no comfortable manor house awaiting you, girl. What say you?”

“I agree to your terms, sir. But, I have one of my own.”

“Name it.”

“You’ll not lay a hand to me or our children, no matter the height of your rage.”

“Never. You have my word.”

Looking into his eyes, softened and vulnerable now, he meant it. You felt relief for the first time in weeks. Safe, protected, cared for, and welcomed into his adventures. It was everything you’d dreamed of. All of your childhood friends had dreams of servants and painting rooms and buying linens, while you had wanted to see the world. Here he was, offering it to you.

“I accept.”

“As do I, love. Now,” he finished removing your corset and bodice top, letting it fall to the floor, “as your husband, I’ll have what I’m owed.”

“Yes, Captain. But, please,” you felt a tear roll away from your wet lashes, “be gentle with me.”

“I promised no such thing,” he said, lowering his mouth to your nipple, sucking it and wetting the silk of your chemise, using his hand to pull down the fabric on your other breast, exposing it to the sea air.

You gasped, feeling his hot mouth explore your skin, your nipples tightening in the heat of his attentions. He was using his tongue to flick back and forth across the tip of your breast, not caring that you were trembling at every swipe of his tongue or thumb. You moaned, involuntarily, as you felt the sparkle of pleasure rush into your belly, making you wet under your skirts. While you had explored yourself plenty of times to discover the hidden secrets of your body, to have a man - especially such an aggressor like Captain Price - do it, it was so much more exciting. His forbidden fruit made you clench your legs together, upset and tingling within your core.

“Mmm,” he praised you, “Like that, love?”

“Yes, Captain,” you whispered softly, placing your hands on the back of his neck, rubbing the firm musculature you discovered there.

“Good girl,” he told you, pinching your nipple cruelly to make you moan again.

He kissed you then, full and with his long, ravenous tongue, forcing it into your mouth to feel your tongue and throat, the silky skin of your cheek. As he kissed you, he was busy rucking up your skirts, searching for your dripping heat. He found it, and he stilled. Barely moving, he stopped kissing you and looked up into your eyes with his stark blue ones, a look of pure delight on his face.

“Oh, my stars. There it is. You’ve been hiding it from me. So willing? Tell me the truth. Have you been hungering for me as I have been for you?”

It would not be proper to confess such a thing, even to a man who would be your husband. You shook your head in denial, pressing your lips together to keep from telling the truth.

“Say it! Tell your naughty thoughts to me, love. This is not the cunt of a frightened girl.”

You blushed, red as a rose, unable to meet his gaze.

“C’mon, pretty girl,” he moved his finger inside of you then, gently sinking into his drooling sheath, ready to send home his sword to it.

“Y-yes,” your voice was barely audible.

“Yes? What have you been thinking of?” He returned to your nipple, pressing his finger deeper into you, massaging your walls as he explored.

“You…when you fight pirates, sir. You look…”

He chuckled, biting your firm nipple softly, teasing you,

“You like seeing me murdering those devils, do you? In all my days, I never thought I’d find a lass who had a taste for war.”

“Not the war, sir. Just the warrior. You seem to be in command of the chaos, and my body…well, I guess…I am unsure how to describe it.”

He pulled you down to the bed and tossed you on your back, rutting against you with his length, letting his hardness press into your core through his breeches.

“You like seeing me in charge, hm? Your captain, barking his orders, tossing those traitorous rats into the drink, yeah?”

“Yes, sir,” you confessed, rolling in the broiling pleasure he was building inside of you, his hand knuckle-deep inside of your core.

“Good,” he said smugly, “Then, I have a command for you.”

You looked up at him, watching him roll your skirt up above your knees, his eyes never leaving your dripping folds. He smiled when he saw it gleam for him.

“What do you ask of me, my love?”

“Open your legs, girl. Feed yourself to your Captain.”

#call of duty fanfic #cod mw2 #cod mwii #captain john price #captain price #captain price x reader #john price #cod #captain price x you #pirate price

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chrysalis-the-butterfly · 16 days

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What I Mean When I Say, "I Ship Huskerdust"

When I say, "I ship Huskerdust," I don't mean that I think it would be a perfect example of a healthy relationship. Because it wouldn't be.

They've both got issues that they would need to work through if they wanted their relationship to succeed.

On Angel's side, there's the fact that his prior interactions with Husk basically consisted of him flirting with Husk, and Husk making it clear that he wasn't interested, and Angel ignoring that and doing it again. That's harassment.

Yes, Angel stops doing it after Episode 4, but he never explicitly apologises for it. That was a missed opportunity, in my opinion. It was a change for the show to say loudly and clearly, "Hey, trauma sucks, we get that, but it's not an excuse to treat people badly yourself. You grow by owning up to your mistakes and trying to be better than the person who hurt you."

Speaking of trauma...

Angel is being abused by Valentino and exploited in the porn industry. That's not a personal failing. It's not Angel's fault. But it has affected him deeply, and it's something that he and Husk would need to work through.

It's not going to be all sunshine and rainbows. Angel will cry, Angel will get angry, Angel will lash out. He will behave inappropriately, and he will keep being hypersexual because he knows how to do it and sometimes it feels like the safest option. And he will have no idea how to just rest with a loved one and trust them. So Husk will need to be the bigger person and take all the ups and downs and keep loving Angel through the dark days.

But I don't know if Husk has what it takes to do that.

That leads me nicely onto the issues on Husk's side. For starters, there's his judgemental attitude. He's a gambler, and therefore believes he can read people and know everything about them. Angel's "It's not an act!" outburst shakes Husk and makes him realise that he didn't really know what was going on.

But even after that, Husk is still judging Angel. It happens in Episode 6, when Angel is offered drugs by Cherri Bomb and Husk says, "Look, you wanna fuck up all your progress, be my guest. I just ... I just thought you were better than that."

Addicts can relapse if they go back to their old environments and old relationships. It happens. And it's probably not a good idea to be so condemnatory about it.

Can you imagine what Husk's reaction would be if Angel really did relapse? Would Angel feel safe opening up to Husk again if he knew how badly Husk could take it?

Sometimes, it seems as though Husk puts Angel on a pedestal. In Episode 8, when he tells Angel, "I guess you have changed," Angel doesn't look convinced, instead changing the subject. Husk sees Angel as better than Angel thinks he is.

And that goes hand-in-hand with when he was judging Angel more harshly in earlier episodes. Husk applies higher standards to Angel.

I think part of the reason why Husk is so hard on Angel is because Husk sees something in Angel that he doesn't see in himself - youth and potential. Husk has made it clear that he isn't trying to get into Heaven. He probably doesn't think he deserves it. That's why he told Angel not to look for answers to problems at the bottom of a bottle, but continued to drink himself.

My theory is that Husk is working on Angel because he finds it easier than working on himself.

It's much easier to judge and boss around others than to acknowledge and rectify your own flaws. To borrow a metaphor from Jesus Christ himself, Husk is trying to take specks of sawdust out of Angel's eye while he's still got plenty of planks in his own eye.

One of those planks being his complicity in the Overlord system.

Yes, I should probably mention that Husk used to be an Overlord. He used to participate in the very system that is now trapping and torturing Angel.

And he gambled with the souls that he owned! He put their afterlives at stake! Can you imagine being owned by Husk, thinking you knew where you stood, and then waking up one day to be told that you were now owned by someone else? Potentially someone as bad as Valentino?

(Now, I don't think Husk ever actually played a game with Valentino, given that he can't seem to remember Val's name in Episode 6, but still, the implications are horrifying.)

Angel didn't have too big a reaction when Husk opened up about his past. But that's probably because he was still reeling a bit from his own outburst. Once it had sunk in, how did he feel?

How can Angel feel safe and loved around someone who used to own souls and gamble with them carelessly? Someone who apparently still has his Overlord powers? Someone who could turn into yet another Valentino in the wrong circumstances?

How can a romance work?

Can a romance work?

Despite all of that?!

No, when I say, "I ship Huskerdust," I don't mean, "I think they're fluffy and adorable and 100% unproblematic." I mean, "Huskerdust contains interesting dynamics that are fun to explore." There's something about their interactions that I enjoy.

And Huskerdust could be a good way for the cartoon to dive into its themes of redemption and second changes.

Husk could change Angel for the better. We can see that, after Episode 4, Angel is willing to be more honest about what he's going through. He actually tells Niffty about the gruelling 16-hour shift Valentino put him through, instead of trying to pretend he's been all right.

If they became an official couple, Husk could show Angel what it's like to have someone genuinely care for him and his wellbeing, not just use him for money-making or self-gratification. Since Husk isn't interested in Angel's hypersexual porn star persona, it would be a chance for Angel to take the time to figure out who he (Anthony?) really is.

Angel could change Husk for the better, too. Other Tumblr bloggers have pointed out that Husk seemed to be drinking a little less after Episode 4. Perhaps watching Angel attempting self-improvement encouraged Husk to give it a go as well, albeit in a more low-key way.

And if Husk was the one who got Angel out of his contract with Valentino, that would be a great culmination of his character arc. It would be his own personal redemption for participating in the cruel Overlord system, because he'd be freeing someone from an Overlord's control. He'd be correcting his past mistakes. I for one would love to see that in a future season.

That is what I mean when I say "I ship Huskerdust."

TL;DR Angel and Husk are not perfect people, not by a long shot - but they could be perfect for each other.

#hazbin hotel #angel dust #anthony hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel anthony #husk hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel husk #huskerdust #valentino hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel valentino #cherri bomb #niffty #sir pentious

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xcherryerim · 1 month

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Double The Fall, Triple The Pleasure

- Billy x Gn!reader x Derek -

“Merrier the more, triple fun that way. Twister on the floor, what do you say?” — 3 by Britney Spears

word count: 3.6k

SMUT ONE SHOT | MDNI | +18 ONLY

Summary: As you work your shift as a casino host Derek Danforth, the son of the co-owner, decides to begin a round of baccarat with a stranger named Billy. Somehow you end up participating in the game and emerge victorious, causing the two players to owe you financial compensation but, they end up repaying you in another way.

(if you want to go directly to the smut section look for the “✦ “ symbol.)

There are two distinct types of gamblers. The rich make hasty decisions with their money, while the desperate lot implore and pray to the machines and chips, hoping for a miraculous windfall of riches.

As a casino host, your responsibility is to ensure that the patrons become loyal to the establishment; however, as a bystander, when a person who isn’t a part of the one percent plays, it’s impossible to hold back the feeling of regret. While you acknowledge you are fulfilling your obligation, you know it is easy to become engulfed by obsessing gambling, and you don’t wish that on anyone.

However, you do not care if the rich pour their monetary possessions into the abyss, and you maintained that sentiment toward Derek Danforth, the son of one of the casino’s co-owners.

He wasn’t a regular at the establishment and gambled a little, but occasionally brought his friends to indulge in excessive drinking, and smoking while toying with machines. However, now he was by himself, which was unusual.

“Mr. Danforth, it is a pleasure to have you back. Would you like your usual?” you inquired. “Huh?” A confused response erupted from his lips, his body lurching forward with a wobbly movement. The apparent intoxication exhibited by him appeared on the edge of his consciousness as he scanned the area once more.

“Yeah, and I want a table,” he uttered the request, with minimal confusion.

“Certainly. Would the others in your group be joining us this time?”

Derek shook his head, his body appearing unsteady as he did so. “No, just me.”

“Oh, how so?” you questioned, your tone of voice maintaining professionalism as it did during work.

“Just bored,” he responded with a shrug, unbothered by the circumstances, even as you detected a hint of inebriation.

“Oh, indeed, a casino is the ideal way to take away boredom,” you remarked with a feigned professional tone, although the sarcasm in your words was all too obvious.

“Why don’t you join me for a round?” he inquired as he seated himself at the velvety green table, awaiting your response.

“I’m here to ensure everyone’s enjoyment and prevent any illegal behavior,” you replied, concealing your hostility and disdain for a facade of civility.

“I am not a participant, but a spectator, Mr. Danforth,” you concluded, using a firm tone with a mild undertone of mockery.

“You don’t seem to have much enjoyment yourself,” Derek said as he inhaled from the vape he held, the vapor surrounding you before dissipating into the atmosphere.

“I’ve said it once, and I’ll repeat it. Drop that professional speech style. We’re around the same age, so why do you still feel the need to communicate with me like this?” he stated, sounding frustrated with continuing your formal conduct.

“If I speak like I do, I will get fired for unprofessionalism.” You retorted as you prepared the negroni and handed it over to him.

“I won’t allow that to happen,” he replied, taking in a generous sip from the glass before continuing his words. “You’re too hot to lose.”

You felt uncertain about whether to offer a genuine response to his flirtation or simply scoff at it, and you began to silently pray that he would not launch into another lecture about cryptocurrency, which had become an irksome topic of conversation during your prior interactions.

“Thank you, Mr. Danforth. It means a lot.” You spoke, avoiding direct visual contact to avoid any implications or insinuations. While you acknowledge that he is a physically attractive man, the irritation he can induce within you is bigger than your attraction for him, or at least that is what you try to tell yourself.

“I’m assuming a solo round?” You mentioned shifting the subject.

“Not quite...” he replied, his gaze examining the environment until he managed to pinpoint the individual of interest, a man around his same height, adorned with dark-toned hair and a jean jacket, giving an out-of-place demeanor compared to the ambiance of this prestigious gambling establishment, thus providing a vulnerable and susceptible target.

Derek walked with confidence as he had already won the game. “Hello, I’m Derek, Derek Danforth,” he proclaimed, displaying his self-assured attitude and firm grip as he shook hands with the stranger, showcasing his superiority complex.

“Billy, and yeah, I will join you.” The individual stated this with assertiveness, grasping tightly onto his gold necklace, an item he viewed as his lucky charm.

In your inner thoughts, you were fervently hoping that the gentleman with the cowboy-esque appearance would end up victorious and leave the premises swiftly and promptly. You were aware that the significant bets Derek had made in the past were so large that they could obliterate the finances of a person with the speed of light.

“Billy would join me for a game,” Derek proclaimed as he settled into his designated seat.

“Billy, we’re delighted to have you here with us,” you uttered, the corners of your mouth rising into a pitiful smile, yet the individual seemed to have construed your gesture as a sign of flirtatious intent as he provided a subtle wink in response.

A palpable aura of awkwardness permeated the atmosphere between you and Derek, his displeasure at the sight of another man attempting to flirt with you becoming evident despite every attempt to mask his emotions on the matter. Regardless of the discomfort of the situation, it was undeniable that you experienced a certain degree of gratification and joy as you had the attention of both men.

“So, shall we begin?” you spoke, skillfully shuffling the deck with precision, as well as showcasing a few unique tricks you had acquired throughout your time spent working at the casino. You felt their eyes taking in every choreographed performance, their minds filled with various ideas and fantasies of what else someone with such masterful hands might also possess the aptitude for.

As the game began, your eyes were filled with anxiousness as you carefully followed the steps and maneuvers that had taken place in the game of Baccarat. The interior sound of your mind urges Billy to take all the appropriate actions to win, but unfortunately, he falls short in his efforts.

Derek chuckled in mockery. “Maybe next round you can win.”

Billy groaned in annoyance at Derek’s comment, his attention quickly turning towards you. “Why don’t you play with us?” Billy asked.

“I don’t,” you started to say, but Derek interrupted your response by uttering, “Do as I say and play.”

The harsh look delivered by the wealthy individual in question prompted a sense of apprehension and caution within you, but you were compelled to oblige the order.

Despite never playing, you were sure that you had a chance of winning, as you had taken the time to observe numerous matches, making you able to identify and comprehend the various mistakes and errors that tended to occur, as well as what appeared to be successful. However, the extreme bets that Derek was making and Billy’s persistent attempts to one-up them caused you a moderate degree of concern, but you tried to maintain a state of composure.

✦

When the game came to a close, seeing both men so sure of your failure just for you to end up winning at the end was ecstatic. Now you understand why people loved gambling in the first place. Your smirk quickly fades as you let go of the cards as if holding them down would make you more intoxicated with the high these activities had to offer.

Derek grunted, a sound oozing with a subtle tinge of frustration as he pulled out his lousy Gucci wallet. “Is cash fine or a check?” He asked slightly annoyed. Billy, on the other hand, looked at the table, his eyes darting back and forward.

“I don’t; I don’t have that type of money.” He stuttered as he looked at you.

“Mmh,” You leaned closer. “Maybe you could pay in another way.” You teased playfully, indicating your intent to pursue a physical means of compensation.

“And suddenly I have no money either. How sad.” Derek said, hiding his wallet, hoping to provide you with a similar recompense as the one you sought from Billy.

“The expression goes: save a horse, ride a cowboy, not: save a Ferrari, ride a rich man.” You chuckled in response.

“But wouldn’t both be great to ride?” Derek replied, his expression exuding self-assurance as he took a swig from his beverage.

You quickly looked at Billy, who didn’t seem to mind the offer. You, on the other hand, were skeptical, but how many people win a game and have the opportunity to be fucked by two attractive guys?

“Alright!” you exhale, a hint of satisfaction coloring your voice as you reach into your pocket and retrieve the keys entrusted to you by the establishment. With a decisive click, you lock the door to the cleaning supply room behind you, effectively sealing off the space from prying eyes.

When you turned in their direction, you felt their hands roaming against your body. Their fingers traveled the contours of your figure, triggering sensations that surged down the length of your spine, evoking chills and shivers. Billy pulls your head, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss, his tongue dancing with yours in a sensual duet. His hands slide beneath your shirt, exploring the warmth of your bare skin, while Derek’s lips trail down your neck, nibbling as he leaves a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

Derek’s hands work swiftly to unfasten the buttons of your uniform, revealing more of your body with every movement. He does this with a sense of urgency as if he cannot get enough of touching you. The sound of fabric rustling fills the air, accompanied by soft moans escaping your lips as their touches become more intimate and bold.

With Billy’s assistance, you manage to wriggle out of your dress pants, your legs quivering with anticipation as they continue to explore every inch of your exposed skin. Derek moves lower, his lips brushing against your belly button before trailing further south, stopping briefly at the waistband of your underwear. He looks up at you, seeking permission with his eyes alone. You nod, unable to resist the intense desire that is building within you.

With renewed determination, Derek hooks his thumbs under the elastic band and slides them downward. His eyes widen in surprise at what he sees—you’re dripping and ready for him. Without waiting for confirmation, he leans forward, planting a series of open-mouthed kisses along your inner thighs. Then, his tongue starts to trace slow circles around your sensitive flesh. His actions send waves of euphoria coursing through your body, making you squirm in delight.

While Derek worships your body, making sure to not leave any part of you without licks and sucks, Billy takes matters into his own hands quite literally. He expertly undoes his belt, wrapping it around your neck and tightening it just enough to heighten your senses without cutting off your airway entirely, adding an edge of danger to this already erotic encounter.

Billy then proceeds to remove his red boxers, revealing his rigid erection pulsating with need. It jumps slightly at the sudden exposure, eager to be touched. He grasps your hand and places it around his twitching cock, guiding your movements as he leans in for a brief, passionate kiss.

“Get your money’s worth,” he whispers against your lips, his smirk widening as he watches you.

With urgency, you begin to tease the head of Billy’s cock with your thumb, tracing its ridges and veins as if mapping out every inch. Your other hand teases Billy’s shaft rhythmically, setting a pace that pleases both of you. The room fills with the sounds of your whimpers and his groans, a testament to the intense fulfillment coursing through your bodies.

At the same time, Derek’s hunger grows as he feasts on the throbbing between your legs, his skilled tongue and lips working together to bring you to the brink of ecstasy. His light whimpers echo throughout the small space, punctuating the air with his insatiable craving.

“You’d better be quiet if you don’t want to get caught,” Derek warns, concerned about someone hearing their explicit activities. With a swift motion, he yanks the belt tied around your neck, causing you to cry out in surprise and pain.

Your breath catches in your throat as the sudden pressure cuts off your oxygen flow. When he releases the hold, you gasp heavily.

“You liked that, huh?” he asks with a sinister smirk, reading your flushed cheeks and labored breathing.

“Maybe I should get you a collar so you don’t forget who you belong to.” His words carry an underlying threat as if claiming ownership over you. Without waiting for a verbal response, he stands up, towering over you menacingly.

Derek reaches out, grabbing your chin forcefully, tilting your head back so your eyes meet his. “Because you fucking belong to me, remember that.”

Despite the fear and uncertainty swirling within you, there’s also a strange thrill running through you at his possessiveness, causing you to let out a whine.

Your weak sound made Derek smirk in amusement. His teeth were barely visible. Then, he resumes to his past attitude.

“I’m tired of you bitching and moaning.” Derek said, “Get on your knees.” His command is firm, leaving no room for negotiation. You obey without question, kneeling before him and Billy. Their cocks are mere inches from your face, and the lines between reality and fantasy blur even further.

Their presence looms large over you; their virility and masculinity are intoxicating in this dimly lit room. Your mouth waters at the sight of their hardened members, yearning to taste them and to please them in any way possible.

Both men watch you intently, their eyes filled with expectation and fascination. You can practically see the thought process playing out in their minds: who will you serve first? Who will you satisfy last?

With a deep, shaky inhale, you lean forward, your lips brushing softly against the tip of Billy’s erect member. Your tongue darts out to taste the salty droplets of pre-cum glistening on its surface, savoring the flavor while your hand wraps firmly around Derek’s shaft, moving up and down with increasing speed, this motion is both a show of submission and a subtle act of rebellion, aiming to push him closer to the edge.

Derek’s moans increase in volume, his hips bucking involuntarily in response to your aggressive stroke as his eyes roll back. The pain of overstimulation mingles with satisfaction, creating a complex mix of emotions that only adds to the overall experience.

Meanwhile, Billy’s gaze is a mix of awe and hunger, his breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. The contrast between your two lovers couldn’t be more apparent—one nearing orgasm, the other waiting with bated panting for his chance. But Billy isn’t content with waiting; he wants to join in the action too.

Suddenly, he grabs the collar around your neck, tugging it firmly and forcing your mouth wide open to accept his entire length. You struggle to accommodate Billy’s girth, your throat adjusting to the invasion as best it can. Saliva drips from your chin, coating your neck and body as you fight to keep up with his demands.

“You know, for such a professional-looking host, you’re taking it like a fucking slut.”

You want to answer back at Billy’s words but, the sensation of being mouthful by his engorged member is overwhelming, but you refuse to give up. Determined to please both men, you focus on taking him deeper, and your efforts are rewarded by his low growls of approval. Meanwhile, Derek watches with a mix of jealousy and admiration, pulsating in anticipation as your strokes become sloppier on him.

“Touch yourself,” Billy commands. Without hesitation, you use your free left hand to explore your own body, mirroring the sensations he experiences.

Your eyes lock with his, reflecting your admiration for this astounding man standing before you, dominating and directing your every move.

Your fingers caress your sensitive skin, discovering the wetness left by Derek’s earlier attentions. You moan around Billy’s shaft, the sensation intensifying as you stroke yourself in sync with your mouth’s movements.

Billy’s eyes darken with desire, his grip on your ‘collar’ tightening slightly. “That’s it,” he encourages, spurring you on.

“Swallow every fucking drop,” he orders, his words sending a shiver down your spine. Sweat glistens on your brow, and your gasps come in ragged as you redouble your efforts, eager to satisfy him and prove your loyalty while you pleasure yourself and bob your head on Billy’s dick.

Derek watches hungrily, his length pulsating in your hand, as he impatiently awaits his turn. His grip on your hair tightens, demanding your attention. “Please!” he begs, his voice tinted with desperation. “Give it to me!”

Your eyes lock with Derek’s, and with a nod, you move towards him, ready to grant his wish. He quickly guides your mouth towards his member, and you eagerly obey, wrapping your lips around his dick, feeling him twitch in excitement at the first touch of your warm, wet mouth. His scent fills your nostrils, mingling with the musk of sex and sweat, creating an intoxicating blend.

“Fuck, you’re better than I imagined.” Derek cries out.

Billy watches the exchange as he searches for a condom among the scattered clothing on the floor. Once it’s located, he rolls it onto his shaft, preparing himself for what’s to come.

Moving behind you, he gently fingers your entrance, seeking silent consent. You pause momentarily, breaking contact with Derek’s length long enough to respond to Billy with a yes. As soon as your sentence ends, Derek responds by thrusting harder, face-fucking you relentlessly.

Your eyes water and tears stream down your face as his pace increases. In the meantime, Billy positions himself at your entrance. With a single confident thrust, he enters you, filling you up.

As he begins to thrust in and out of you, matching Derek’s pulls on your head, you lose track of time and space. All that exists is the combined sensation of two cocks inside you, stretching and filling you. The sounds of flesh slapping against flesh, grunts, and moans drowning the room, creating a primal symphony of desire and satisfaction.

Your hands grasp Derek’s thighs, your nails digging into them as your body aches. Sweat trickles down your forehead, staining your face, and you don’t care. Nothing matters but the sense of belonging to these two men.

Derek hisses at the sudden attack from your nails before he speaks. “I know I’m big, but you can take more than that,” Derek growls, forcing more of him into your mouth, attacking your throat mercilessly, while Billy picks up the pace, pounding into you faster and harder.

His thrusts became more erratic, his hips slamming against your ass with reckless abandon. You cry out, your voice hoarse from the constant stimulation, feeling your body tense up, preparing for your orgasm.

Just as you think you can’t handle it anymore, Billy pulls out suddenly, leaving you panting and empty. Before you can recover, he spits on your entrance, lubricating it again. Then, with one swift motion, he re-enters you, filling you up once more. His size stretches you wider than ever, causing you to scream in both agony and gratification.

“I love the sounds you make when I'm destroying you," Billy mumbles as he slaps your ass a few times before he speaks again. “So much better than the last person I was with.”

Derek, sensing your imminent climax, speeds up his pace even more. His thrusts become faster and harder, hitting your uvula. His movements are deliberate, designed to send you spiraling over the edge. Billy, aware of the approaching orgasm, matches Derek’s intensity. Together, they push you to your limits, each thrust bringing you closer to the peak.

The combination of their movements is too much to bear. Your body convulses, shaking uncontrollably as you near the edge. You cry out incoherently, your voice a mix of pleas and curses. Finally, it happens. A wave of pure bliss washes over you, starting from your core and radiating outward. Your muscles clenched around Billy’s cock, which came undone, Derek following right after as you swallowed him entirely.

For a moment, all three of you remain frozen in time, basking in the afterglow of your shared orgasm. Sweat covers your body, mixing with the evidence of your passions and dedication.

Then, Derek proceeds to pick you up, ensuring you’re okay and still able to walk, as Billy quickly goes to dress up again.

“Wanna do aftercare?” Derek asks. This is different; this isn’t the usual Derek you’re accustomed to, but there’s something special about him at this moment.

“I’d love to,” you reply, unable to resist his newfound vulnerability. For a brief moment, you both stare at Billy, unsure whether to include the stranger in this intimate moment. But he speaks up, breaking the silence.

“I’m fine; I need to go anyway.” And with that, Billy abandons the room, leaving the two of you alone together.

Now it’s just the two of you, stripped bare emotionally and physically. You look at each other, unsure of how to proceed. Should you clean up? Talk about what happened. Or simply cuddle and rest in each other’s arms?

“That was weird,” Derek says, slightly confused by Billy’s sudden departure but dismissing it. He’s glad that the two of you are alone now.

“Get dressed up. We’ll go back to my place, and...” As Derek reaches for his pants, they feel unusually light. You exchange a confused glance, picking up your clothes and finding them similarly lacking.

Realization dawns on you both—your wallets are gone. It seems Billy took advantage of the situation to steal from you when you guys thought he was looking for a condom earlier on. You share a look of disbelief.

“Fucking Billy,” you mutter.

Hope you guys liked it, it’s my first time writing this sort of thing but I wanted to write something special for having 100+ followers 🫶🏻 Thank you so much for reading my stuff! (If you only want to see my smut writing consider following my side blog @xxxcherryerim where I reblog my work!)

tags: @freak-accident419 (hand in marriage, NOW /j) @joshhutchersonsgf @joshfutturman @jhutchismyl0verb0y @lile6969 @savvyotakuqueen

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sweetlywriting · 1 month

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Allegiance

Part 1 Part 2

Feyd Rautha x Reader

Sypnosis- To save your weakening house you propose a marriage to Feyd Rautha through the creation of a flower that blooms in color, even on the black and white planet of Geidi Prime. Though the stakes are high-if the flower does not bloom, you must face Feyd in the arena instead of the altar.

Warnings- Manipulation and toxic behaviors, blood and violence, enemies to fiancés to deep mutual understanding(?)

A/N- Read part 1 first! It will make a lot more sense!(it’s good I promise) + lmk if you want to be added to the tag list <3

You scanned the topography of Geidi Prime desperately from above your spacecraft, surrounded by your attendants as they aided in your search. You all carefully watched for a glimpse of a yellow flower in the barren black and white land.

“Bring me my armor, quickly.” You ordered the attendants. The ship was getting too close to land and you had seen no evidence of the blooms. The fortnight had come. Your flowers had failed and thus your proposal. Now you had to face the consequences with your life, fighting in the arena.

“Surely we can wait a bit longer-“ One of your closer attendants said in a worried voice.

“We cannot, you must leave me here and quickly go back home. Do not come back. If I die do not retrieve my body.” You said, trying not let a tremble in your voice. Feyd was a gamble, and you were a fool to take it. Your attendants silently lamented as they quickly undressed you from the beautiful ceremonial dress into heavy armor.

You embraced the attendants you had known since childhood and got off the ship, watching as it quickly receded back towards your home planet. You were greeted by Harkonnen servants as they led you to what only you could assumed would be the arena. Though as you walked through the twisting hallways of the palace you ended up in a private garden-your breath caught in your throat seeing a large bloom of yellow flowers. You had succeeded. Relief flowed through you as you tried not buckle to the floor. Alongside the flowers was Feyd, walking up to you and gesturing for the servants to leave.

He pulled one of the flowers, striding your way and you hesitantly stood your ground as he came closer, able to feel the heat of his breath fanning your neck but never letting your eyes off the sheath at his side as he placed the yellow flower in your hair and drew away.

“I like your attire.” He said in a mocking way. You knew it was unusual to wear armor to an engagement, though only until some seconds ago you were convinced on having to fight a battle to the death.

“But I can’t say I didn’t expect it. I think it rather suits you.” He said, running his eyes over the armor well fitted to your figure. You pursed your lips. He knew you wouldn’t see the Solaris flower if he kept it in a garden. He knew you would see the absence and prepare for battle. He wanted you to feel that fear. ‘What an awful trick’ you thought trying to swallow the infuriation.

“Didn’t bring any attendants either hm?” He said laughing lightly but you could see the adding irony in his little trick. By making you think you had lost the gamble you had to send your people back for their safety-but now you had lost a share of your own safety, completely isolated and surrounded by Harkonnens in their own territory. He had turned out to be much more manulaptive than you thought.

“So . . . you’ll marry me?” You asked wanting to get this done as swiftly as possible.

“Yes, I’ll keep my word. Though my family isn’t quite as . . . accepting. You’ll have to prove your worth to them yourself, I can only offer you some protection. And of course I don’t have to that.” He said, dragging out the last sentence in his sly voice.

“Let’s see if you can survive a week.”

***

For a month you had navigated the difficult environment of the Harkonnens house estate, writing encrypted letters to your family, learning Giedi Prime’s complex local languages, and trying not to get assassinated by your future in laws.

Even now, with the privilege of a seat at their dining table, you didn’t dare take more than sip of your drink or eat anything served cold. Heat killed poison, so you opted for things that burned your tongue, relishing in the taste of living another day. They didn’t speak much, but you knew if you survived today the honorary courtship of one month would be over, and you could finally marry Feyd and send your people the aid they truly deserved. You kept this in the forefront of your mind as you learned to deflect the Harkonnens veiled threats and insults. Feyd did little to ease this-sometimes adding on or jesting along with them.

But as you started to walk back to your designated chamber on the thirty first day after dinner you felt relief flood through you. It was over. You could sleep peacefully tonight, marry Feyd, and quickly return to your home planet-

You turned as a sharp pain grazed your shoulder, sparsely dodging a dagger aimed to your chest. Immediately starting to run from the hand that had dealt it. Glossu Rabban Harkonnen. Feyd’s cousin and previous commander to Arrakis. He had sneered at you and paid you the respect of an attendant, but had shown no sign of wanting to kill you nor anything to benefit from it.

The pain was intensifying as you continued to sprint, you couldn’t run forever. But where to go? The guards were all Harkonnens, all your people had left, and you had no allies on this hollow planet.

But perhaps one. He didn’t seem to care for you, much less your life, but this was the only chance left. You prayed he was in his room.

“Feyd” you rasped knocking fervently at his door willing it to just open, to just-

“This isn’t what I told you to do.” You heard a voice hiss, from . . . behind you?

You turned to see Feyd and his cousin arguing in hall behind you as you slumped to the foot of the door clutching your shoulder.

“You asked me to test her-“ Rabban said indignantly.

“Not like this-“ Feyd hissed.

“It’s fine, it was just a little scratch and she came to your room anyway-“

Rabban stopped mid speech as the Feyd quickly pulled out his own blade, the sound of metal clashing reverberated in your head for what felt like hours until Rabban began to retreat. You paid no mind, cursing yourself for being stupid enough to come to Feyd’s room when he gotten you into this very situation. ‘Of course it was just another ‘test’, simply another mind game for him’ you thought.

You frowned as he approached, but he hauled you by your uninjured arm and pushed you into his room. You stumbled on to a chair and watched as he dug around cabinets and chests setting salve, alcohol, and dressing bandages on a table.

He didn’t offer any apologies or condolences for what he did, but rather took his own blade to the same point you had been slit, ran his dagger through his own shoulder quickly.

He didn’t speak or seem to mind the fact his own blood was staining the white floor red as he dressed your wound. Blood ran down his arm and traced itself over the curvature of his veins.

Seeing the way he ignored his wound as though it was simply not there, the way his eyes focused on your cut with sound precision, the way he ripped the long bandage with his teeth-you begin to understand why house Harkonnen repayed blood with blood. You had the odd urge to kiss him.

“We are allies.” He said this with little emotion or regard, as though stating a fact. Your loyalty had been proven, and now so had his.

For the first time since you had gotten on this morbid planet you laughed.

“I suppose we’ll having matching scars to wear for our wedding.”

Tag list: @szapizzapanda, @moonsoulk, @unicoreads, @avidreader73, @flower-frog

#fanfiction #fanfic #x reader #feyd x you #feyd x reader #feyd rautha #dune x reader #dune part two #dune 2 #feyd rautha harkonnen #how we feeling #next part y’all are getting married!! + honeymoon to sand land + increasing political intrigue!

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eatommo · 1 year

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All is Fair [d.d]

Summary: A heated argument lets emotions, and confessions come to the surface.

CW: din djarin/female reader, the helmet stays on, angst, misunderstandings, mutual pining, confessions of love, din leaves bruises on her, marking kink, rough sex, d/s dynamics, use of pet names, p in v, creampie, mentions of gambling/bets, mando'a, oral (m reciving) (I probably missed some sorry)

a/n: This is a little messy, I'm just falling so hard again and need to get some of my own pining out. enjoy :)

You swear you hear the creak of his gloves tightening around your arm, “I told you to stay inside the ship.” His fingers are thick and robust as they dig into your flesh, properly leaving your skin purple. Helmet sweeping side to side he scans the crowd for someone showing too much interest, “The imps have eyes everywhere, you're going to get us killed.”

“Right. Because you’re an average man walking around, definitely not inside your own fucking casket.” His grip gets impossibly tighter, and he stops in his tracks, halting your movement completely. The adrenaline in your body peaks as his blank, concealed, stare fixes on your face.

“You’re tiresome. Did you know that?” His voice is pure vitriol, you’ve never seen him so angry. “I don’t care if I get killed but you can’t be bringing the kid out for a dessert run.”

“It was his idea!” Deep down you know he’s right, but being cooped up in the crest for weeks has made you all antsy, and the kid was very persuasive. “We didn’t just get cookies.” You try and keep your tone even, emotions mounting in your throat. “I got some bacta, and a new compressor for the carbonite chamber.” His posture is iron, shoulders, and head still as a rock and you trail off.

“You could’ve told me to get those things.” He turns away from you and pulls you back towards the ship. There are several coos and cries from the pouch now snug to dins hip and covered by his skewed cape. “You can’t let the baby tell you what to do.”

He’s been nothing but kind to you, and although you hate him confronting you he would’ve gotten anything you asked for, he always has. “You’re right, I’m sorry, but you don’t need to scold me like a child.”

His hand loosens slightly as if he is becoming conscious of hurting you, as he practically shoves you forward with his body while you instinctually resist. “This isn’t the first time you haven’t listened to me.”

You set your jaw, swallowing more bitter words, and scan the crowd with him, slightly turning your head every few steps to get a glimpse of people behind you, just like he taught you. Miraculously, you make it to the hangar without another bitter word.

Even as he pays the balance of the ship repairs his hand doesn’t leave its place on your arm, the man glancing between the two of you suspiciously. Your cheeks heat in embarrassment, and you begin to feel like a scruffed loth cat. “Do you have to drag me by my bones?!” You twist your arm in an attempt to escape, but all it does is shoot lightning through your arm down to your wrist.

He remains silent until he practically throws you onto the ramp of the ship. To further your shame, you trip and fall to your knees scraping them both on the rough texture of the ramp. With a huff and barely-kept tears, you storm up the ramp and drop the sack of supplies on a crate, heading straight to the fresher for a rinse in the shower, in a desperate effort to collect yourself.

The ship takes off in no time with a lurch and the immediate hum of hyperspace envelops the crest. Only then, do you feel safe enough to let out a choked frustrated sob. The cry is relatively quick, and the water does wonders for the tight knot of the new bruise on your arm, but not quite the cleansing of your heart you were praying for.

You rinse the soap from your hair rigorously and not kindly, in an attempt to shake the need for these bruises to linger until they faded without the use of bacta. He would think you were being ridiculous, he might even taunt you about being young and dumb if he found out how you felt about him. You’d be lying if these weren’t tears of heartbreak, he embarrassed and chastised you in front of crowds of people and practically dragged you halfway across town.

Yet, you found yourself wanting to seek him for comfort. Longing for the long nights of telling him about your childhood on bespin, and the comfort of his laugh as he gave you a simple story about the fighting corps that had your eyes full of admiration and bewilderment. He had been kind and soft and protective. Today was the first time you remember him being so assertive with you, with enemies and bounties yes, but never to you.

Maybe it was time for you to take off. The thought felt like a slap on the cheek, and you bite your lips as you swipe across the ripped flesh of your knee. It is not a terrible scrape, but the skin is tender and bruised around the minor cuts. You wanted him to apologize, and you wanted him to see you bleed, you knew he’d feel terrible, he stepped on your foot last week and apologized three times.

Stepping out of the shower you realize that in your rush to the refresher, you didn’t grab a pair of clothes. Swearing to yourself, you take a look at your dirty clothes from earlier. They're caked in sand, and rather than put them on you’ll wrap yourself in -shit- his towel. Sending a prayer to the maker, whoever she may be, you open the doors and set your gaze on the floor towards your bunk and set course confidently. Unaware he is watching intently from the container you left your sack on until his boots are in your vision.

He hears the squeak die in your throat and watches your heart race as he scans your near-naked frame with his visor. His breath catches in his throat at the sight, his hand still radiating warmth from holding your skin even with his gloved hand. He wanted you, and his body responded to the small friction of your body against his front like he was a teenager. Then he starts picking up on the scrape on your knees, and the swell of a bruise on your left arm. As your heart leaps into your throat, he drops to the floor on his knees, he hurt you. In his scared frustration, he scolded and towed you around like a misbehaving massiff.

This is where his career failed him, he could de-escalate a bar fight, but he had heard apologizing to a woman was not easy, especially when he so desperately needed you to forgive him. Not to mention the beautiful distraction of his cock twitching in his pants as he settles on your face, trying not to think about your skin smelling like him. “Focus.” Fuck. Did he just say that out loud?

“What did you just say?” You take a larger step forward, your leg peaks out of the wrap of the towel, wrath keeping you from caring. “I always admired your bravery, and now I’m wondering where all the audacity came from.”

He stammers, modulator picking up his sharp confused gasp, “No. I mean-”.

You don’t give him the chance to finish. “I want to go home.” The words dry your tongue to ash. But his posture goes rigid again, and for the first time since you met, you’re afraid of him.

“I’m sorry I hurt you.” As a wave crashes over him, he resets. His shoulders slumped over, and the helmet hanging as if he is adverting his eyes. You watch with bated breath as he reaches up in a familiar movement, flicking through types of vision processors in his helmet, and your blood turns cold.

With a fluid movement, he guides your hand to his shoulder with his free hand and reaches for your calf with the other, pulling your leg free to examine the scuff on your knee.

You misread him and in your panic pull away, falling over your own feet his grip catches you as your towel parts to reveal almost your entire body to him. He’s standing slightly, having to abandon his seat in his efforts to catch you. The helmet snaps to your eyes, and then to the wall beside you as he stands you up.

You take a step back while adjusting your towel and holding it closer to you. “I’m mad that you treated me like a child.” He keeps his eyes trained on the wall, “I shouldn’t-”

“I panicked, I was worried.” He is defensively talking over you, but also afraid to tell you of his feelings for you so his voice is low.

“Be carted through the city on a leash like some misbehaving whore.” The words are pouring out of you as if coating your tongue with honey as they crack across his bleeding heart, far too much happening too fast as he scrambles to catch up.

“I want to go home.” You say it again, but this time it's less convincing as he comes to rest on his knees in front of you.

“I’m sorry.” He creeps pathetically closer to you, resting back onto his feet and leaning the forehead of his helm against your stomach seeking comfort that's more intimate than you’ve ever offered. “I’m not good at these things.” He shifts again, this time looking toward your face until just the chin of the visor is digging into the skin of your abdomen, “I’ve never had the chance to look after something I’ve cared about so much.” His voice although clear is quiet, shy even, “I was so scared I didn’t even think until I saw you set the bacta on the crate.”

You swallow the lump in your throat, tears slipping down your face wordless as you watch him grovel, you must be dreaming.

“Ni ceta.” His heart aches in time with the throbbing pain of his knees on the floor, and for the first time since pridefully placing his helm on his head, he wishes he could abandon it at your feet.

Everything he does is intense, he is fiercely protective, he is lethal, and you might even describe him as passionate when it comes to his creed. The child, who you assume is somewhere sleeping, was possibly the most fiercely protected baby in the galaxy. Having come to know him over the last few months, you wondered how he ever survived on his own, he cherished the companionship the two of you have brought and he always seems to welcome your antics, often at his expense. Like a light in a dim alley, the conclusion flickers in your brain, it's the only thing that makes sense.

“I’m sorry I brought him into danger.” You clear your throat, unable to look away from the dim reflection of yourself in his visor. “I’m just feeling a little like a prisoner.”

He says that unfamiliar phrase again, “Ni ceta, mesh’la.” [I kneel, gorgeous] In what you assume is Mando’a, “I will do better.” Your hands twitch at your side, as you fight the urge to caress his head.

“Okay.” You give a reserved nod, the ice in your heart melted and you feel as vulnerable as ever. “Is the kid asleep?”

Mando gives a soft hum, “He ate a few cookies and then promptly collapsed in his pram in the cockpit.” You realize his voice is hoarse but he clears it, “Can I give you some bacta, and make you some caf? I know you won't forgive me right away.” He trails off, as the glint of his helm holds your stare.

“I’m not upset with you anymore, you don’t need to get anything for me, I can still walk just fine.” A small giggle erupts from your chest, surprising the two of you. There he is.

He stands but doesn’t do anything but lean back slightly, “I want to. I feel terrible.” You take a step back as he stands, he speaks in a hushed tone, “I’d carry you around if that’s what you’d wanted.”

There’s a glitch in your brain he doesn’t miss, and it's hard to ignore the small sound that you make, suddenly he’s thankful for the privacy of the helmet and the loose-fitting fabric of his flight suit. “Is it what you want?” This is an interaction he is slightly more comfortable with, albeit a little rusty.

You clear your throat and shake your head as if the intrusive thoughts will fade with the harsh movement. “Yes and no.” You settle on a bit of honesty while also playing coy. “Who doesn’t want to be carried around by a big strong mysterious man? It’s every girl's dream.”

“Maybe I should add that to the list of services I provide.” He is leaning up against the walls of your bunk, subconsciously blocking you from abandoning the conversation and seeking the warmth and privacy in your bunk.

“We probably would make a killing. But I wouldn’t want you to…” You trail off, not initially liking what the taunting was morphing into, but what the hell? “To carry anyone but me if I am honest.”

“I thought you said you didn’t want me to?” He’s tasting the sweetness of your confession on his tongue, processing it while trying to keep the tone light.

“I want you to want to do those things outside of guilt.” The conversation is far past smooth, nothing like the holodramas you’ve imagined the two of you a part of. “I want you to like spending time with me.”

“I do feel guilty, but I would do these things for you regardless, and I do like spending time with you. We both do, or I wouldn’t fight so hard to keep you here.” There’s an air of caution in his statement, he’s scared of rushing headfirst into his adoration of you and scaring you, even if his face is protected in his bashful admission.

“You do?” You squint an eye at him as if scanning him through your own tech-clad helmet. “Are we on the same page?” You chew on your lip, analyzing his cool, relaxed posture before settling on his pitch-black visor again, in the flicker of your heart you know he’s meeting your stare. “I like you.”

His chest rises sharply with an inhale as if he’s been injured and you quickly try and find a way to backpedal out of this conversation. “Well, maybe we aren’t. I was going to say I’m in love with you.”

If you didn’t know the child was asleep, you would’ve thought he was pushing you toward his dad. There was a tug at your heart and you rush to embrace him, met with the cool metal against your bare skin. Your instinct calls for you to kiss him, and you want to terribly, but you’re unsure of what his customs allow.

You let your hands search for the gaps in his armor, looking for warmth and settling right below the gusset of armor on his back and squeeze him so impossibly tight he groans contently. “This feels so weird, I’m sorry I don’t know what to do.” Your cheeks heat, and he chuckles.

“What are you trying to do?” He finally seems to have settled into the space in front of you, a pliant but also stiff bundle of warmth juxtaposed by the cool faces of his beskar plates. “I can take the armor off if you’re trying to get comfortable.”

“I know how to do it, I just don’t know if I’m allowed to. I want to kiss you Mando…” The bashfulness in the way you bury your face into the crook of his arm, makes his heart skip to an unfamiliar beat in his chest.

“I can take everything but the helmet off, I would eventually. I’m not ready for that.” Now he’s the insecure one, how could you want to be with him without seeing him? “I know it’s not ideal, I’m sorry.”

You sense the insecurity right away, and rather than letting it fester in his always-thinking brain, you do your best to soothe his worries with a caress and a change of subject. “Everything else you say?” Lifting your brow, you hook the rim of his chest plate with your fingernail, separating it slightly from its place. “I can wait for the helmet,” you look up through your eyelashes, “ I want to feel you.”

Lacing your fingers through his, you stroke the palm of his hand silently asking for permission to remove them. He nods slowly, and you slide beneath the fabric slowly revealing the tanned, callused skin. Human skin.

You remove the other glove, letting your fingers soak in his radiating warmth. Drawing long slow circles on his palms, you search for his approval but his head is fixed on your hands in his. He is rigid and his posture is stiff, as if afraid if he moves you’ll stop.

Every nerve in his body is alight, he’s practically vibrating as you run your fingers along his skin, your hands are cold and feel wonderfully soft. It takes everything not to whine when you go to take his vambraces off and the comfort of your touch is ripped away from him.

“I don’t know how to do this.” You admit, well aware of the whistling birds that are more than dangerous and you're afraid to set them off. He laughs nervously, and you’re leaning so close to his face that you can almost hear the air without the modulator.

“It’s safe.” He reaches over and shows you how to remove the armor. As you lift it away you motion for him to remove the other one while you get to work on his chest plate. The heavy metal plate joins the rest of it in a compartment to his left, and you lay your hands flat on the broad plain of his chest.

He moves, remembering his strength, and tilts your elbow until your hand is resting on the zipper hidden beneath the collar of his cape. Working in tandem, he removes his cuirass as you unzip his flight suit.

Your vision rakes over the ripple of his muscles, a few bruises and scars mark his skin, and you without thinking lean in and leave an open-mouthed kiss over a yellow bruise on his left peck. This time you are close enough to hear the whine that escapes from beneath the helmet in time with his posture going slack with a flood of goosebumps on his skin.

The noises go straight to your core, the idea of this hard exterior broken by a hint of your mouth on his chest is enough of an invite to step closer. Slotting between his feet, you press your mouth to the center of his sternum, chasing it as he flinches away from your cold hands brushing against his lower stomach before curling into the fabric to pull him tight against you.

He steps back, maneuvering around the crate and leaning against the wall behind it so he can slot his thigh between your legs gently inviting you to grind against the cool metal plate, only separated by an ever-falling towel his brain scrambles, only thinking about how your mouth feels hot against his skin and wondering what you taste like.

You lean harder into him, feeling the weight of his cock dig into your stomach and trying to focus on nibbling on the tight muscle of his shoulder as the fabric of his flight suit falls off his shoulders. You hear a loud clang as he throws his head back, likely breaking something behind him, when you dig in your teeth and suck hard on one of his collarbones. You suckle and kitten lick at the same time, the groans and shivers only provoke you further, only pulling away when your lips start to feel swollen.

He’s thankful again for the privacy of his helmet, as frustrating as it is to not return the favor he can’t seem to regain control of his limbs and jaw, everything going slack as he fights the urge to rut against your body like a horny teenager.

The weight of what's left of his armor is dragging the thick fabric to the floor, revealing the rich sculpted muscles of his abdomen and the tortuously scandalous dip of his hip bones. The dull ache of your jaw is ignored as you trail down his warm skin, laving across his nipples as you take your time kissing him, tasting the salt of his skin.

You blow across the trail of kisses, knowing that the air will feel cold and feeling a little dauntless. A shiver rolls through him, bringing his hips forward as if begging for your attention. His cock struggles against the fabric of his underclothes, its weight heavy and practically weeping a delirious amount of precum. It's the hitch of your breath at the realization of his size that breaks his stupor. Digging one hand into your hair and shoving the final confines of his clothing to the ground, he takes his cock into his hand, using the precome to tease the head just above your waiting mouth as you admire.

You finally meet the visor with your eyes again, as he stokes himself tauntingly above you, he’s thicker than any you’d seen before, his fingers not even connecting around its circumference, and the flesh is a tad darker than his skin, with slightly darker veins throbbing for your waiting mouth.

He swears under his breath, as you let your tongue rest on the underside of his thick tip. He pulls you onto him, barely pressing into your mouth but the edge of his heady moan is irresistible, you need to hear it endlessly until he begged you to stop. You take more of him in on the accompanying thrusts, swallowing around him as tears brim your eyes. There's a sense of desperation as he loses his composure his movements less consistent and his body relaxes into the skilled warmth of your mouth.

By the time you work your way to the base, his sparse curls tickle your nose as you hum around him in contentment, and drool runs down your chin onto your chest. You realize in embarrassment that you were holding onto the towel, placing it under your injured knee for padding, and you settle more comfortably onto the ground, allowing you to start caressing his balls with your hand.

His gasp is sinful, depraved even as his hand furls tighter in your hair, teasing the line between pain and pleasure. You moan around him as he twitches against the back of your throat. Gently you shake your head side to side, as you get the last inch or so into your mouth. You hear another loud smash as his head hits the wall a second time, you pause waiting to hear the hiss of a cracked pipe. Instead, he tugs your head back and forth, hand griping tight but the pace is teasingly gentle.

Humming in approval, you look up, watching his body fight for breath between curses and moans. Maker was he handsome, his skin was riddled with various scars and bruises but remained soft and clean, the muscles of his body taut with pleasure and even quivering in his legs as he fought the urge to cum down your throat.

Surprising himself, he guides your head all the way off him, letting himself get a good look at your swollen wet mouth and your naked body as he pulls you back to your feet. “You’re so beautiful,” he is practically whispering, and you feel as though he’s caressing you with his voice, “Can I,” you step closer to him, pressing more open mouth kisses to the tender base of his throat, “Kriff, Can I fuck you?”

You hum against his skin in affirmation before taking his collarbone between your teeth and sucking a fresh mark into it. His arms wrap around your frame as he effortlessly lifts you and you wrap around him, pressing a few gentler, less hungry kisses to the helm where you envision his hairline. He manages to open the door to his bunk and lays you down.

He finally gets your entire body laid open for him, letting his hands caress your sides, committing the shapes of your body to memory as he runs over the planes of your body, stopping for a moment to drag his rough fingers over your nipples. You arch into his touch, feeling as though he is dragging a heated blade of pleasure across your skin. Coaxing your thighs open with the backs of his hands, he emits a low groan as he swipes two fingers through your folds. “You’re so fucking pretty.”

You open your mouth to respond, but he rolls your clit between two fingers effectively shutting you up. He nudges against your entrance and then slowly stretches you open while continuously toying with your clit, scissoring two fingers while paying close attention to any shifts in your breath and small noises.

He pushes his fingers up, and your legs try to close as the new pleasure makes your vision fuzzy. “Keep those legs open for me c’yare.” He demands, massaging that spot a few more times, and you feel as though you’re gasping for each breath in time with the movements of his fingers.

Just when you’re about to start begging for him to let you cum, he stops completely, using the moisture on his hands to slick up his length haphazardly before lining up with your fluttering pussy.

Again, his gentleness stuns you, slowly rocking his hips as he edges deeper into your core. The stretch is shocking at first, but he gives you plenty of time to adjust, slowly circling your clit with his thumb. He hooks your legs around his waist, grinding deeper and deeper until his face is hovering inches from yours.

He presses his forehead to yours in a keldabe kiss. Each slap of his hips is punctuated by your breathy gasp that fogs up his visor. He’s finally close enough to your skin to smell his soap lingering, and it awakens a part of his brain he didn’t know existed.

“You’re mine, mesh’la.” He rubs your clit just a fraction harder, “I wanna hear you say it.”

You struggle to get enough air in your lungs to speak, but the need to please him is greater than your need for breath, “Yours Mando,” His body is fire compared to the cool air of the crest, causing your skin to flush hotly, and a sheen of sweat coating your body, “Anything you want.”

His grunting is entirely animalistic, the ship could fall out of hyperspace or get attacked by purgills and he would be none the wiser. The tight grip of your pussy drives him further into insanity, he feels his orgasm creep up his spine and even then he’s not sure he’ll be able to stop. “Yeah? I’m gonna cum inside you baby.”

He sits up slightly, changing the angle of his hips to shove impossibly deeper into you as you tighten around him, your own orgasm brimming. With each faltering snap of his hips, your whine grows louder until you’re pleading with him to cum inside of you, feeling like it’s the only possible way to bring you relief.

He cradles your head in his arm, needing to feel your moans ripple across his skin as he feels you squeeze him like a vice, your legs shaking and practically bucking him off you with the force of your orgasm. It’s only a few more thrusts before he’s spilling himself inside you and grinding deep until his nerves are on shot and his body is ready to collapse from the stimulation.

A few quick moments pass, and while collecting your wits, you search his visor again, longing for just a bit of eye contact, but unable to find anything, you give him a soft smile. “I owe Peli 50 credits.”

Almost unbelievably bubbly, he resigns “I owe her 150, I think we got caught in a sure bet.” You feign surprise. “I can’t believe she knew before we did.”

“Sounds like she was a double agent. Maybe she just thinks she’ll get another baby out of it.” Your cheeks heat before you can finish speaking and he’s blushing profusely beneath the helmet.

He hums in contentment, letting some of his body weight rest on you as he slips free, before shifting to lay your head on his chest. “I love you.” His hand rubs circles at the base of your neck, but he can’t help but stare at the dark bruises on your arm. “I’ll get up and get you some bacta in a moment.”

“I love you too.” You listen intently to the steady falling rhythm of his heart, as you come down from your highs together. “I think I’d rather have them.” You gently run your fingers over the deep purple marks you’ve sucked into his skin, smiling sadistically at his sharp intake of breath. “It’s only fair.”

#din djarin fanfic #din x reader #the mandalorian #mandalorian smut #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal x reader #din djarin x reader smut #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian spoilers #star wars fanfiction #star wars

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hazbinhappy · 23 days

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Hello, could you write for Husk with a wife reader who comes to visit him at the hotel since she misses him? She’s also a cat demon with a very similar personality to him, and when she visits the hotel, it’s the main casts first time they’ve ever heard of her, except Alastor. Also, the reader hates Alastor because he owns her husband’s soul.

A/N: I love these requests when I see them in his tag :) i think she'd have an opposing/inverse look to him

I have a feeling when alive his wife was a sweetheart, but a touch one while he was prideful gambler

She’s the one who handled the finances once it hit bad she wanted them and their kids to still be able to live so he had an allowance

Anyways, she died probably from terminal illness later in life post-Husk’s death, I don’t think she’d have gone down without a fight

For the why she's in Hell? Idk them having their first kid outta wedlock? Something stupid I assure her because Husk complained a lot in his earlier days about not having you and how you’re probably in heaven

Now when she did arrive in Hell only a decade or so after Husk, he was her first find

Life was fine with an overlord husband, but she definitely chastised him for when he lost all of the souls he had and his own

He still was able to do what he wanted so they stuck together, but when he disappeared and she couldn’t find him she got worried

She’d never think to check that shitty broken down hotel….but the lights are on? What- is that Husk in a commercial for this hotel?!

She immediately stomped her way there and knocked harshly at the door

She didn’t smile, even when met with the face of the sweet princess of Hell

She pushed her way in immediately scanning the lobby, looking for Husk

Alastor scares the shit out of her when he comes out of the shadows

She starts to go off on him about taking her husband and hiding him from her for the last week

Alastor rolls his eyes and simply pointed towards the bar

As much as she didn’t like him, he didn’t like her and tried to keep their conversations short (he wasn’t able to break her down like he did with Husk, but he owns Husk)

When they reunited it was…. Well she was happy and hugged him, but immediately got angry at how he didn’t put his phone to use at all (I headcanon that he’s shit with technology and if he uses his phone it’s for calls, texts, and playing like solitaire or gambling games)

But after all the anger passed people had questions! Except Alastor, she was there when he took Husk’s soul (embarassinggggg)

Husk doesn’t reveal much about himself EVER to people (only Angel knows he used to be an Overlord)

She’s the more open one out of them

Think of Rosie, but just more… idk tough? Mix Rosie and Husk and that is what I think his wife would be like

So she doesn’t reveal too much, but she definitely is more open, but just as vague

Vaggie doesn’t have too many questions, but everyone else does (Mainly Charlie, but Angel isn’t too far behind with the questions)

So far, everyone just knows they’re married and that Husk is definitely a sweetie behind doors

I think Angel and Nifty are really the only too who knows a bit more about them and that’s because they remind her of their kids (in a world where I don’t ship HuskerDust)

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #husk x reader #husker x reader #hazbin hotel husker #hazbin hotel husk

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wolfsgravity · 1 year

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For any of your S/Is, 4 and 15?

I think these would be most fun to answer with Alola!Remee >:3c

4: would you be considered a main character, side character, villain, or something else?

In Alola during the course of most of Sun/Moon canon, I'd probably be a side villain skdufhowrf. I'd be Guzma's shadow, following him like a loyal dog. I'd be in a rebellious phase, angry at the circumstances of my life, and Nanu would just have to sigh and say "just don't kill anyone I guess" and I'd follow that one rule while living with Team Skull.

15: How does your self insert play a role in the plot of the story?

I think over the course of the game canon, I'd go from mindlessly infatuated with Guzma and actively encouraging reckless and dangerous behavior to genuinely caring and seeing that Lusamine was taking advantage of his desire to be treated like a competent grown up and being equally jealous and deeply worried for him. Yes that means in the main story, I'm mostly helping the antagonist/pseudo-antagonist, but he ends up being cool so I also end up being cool and moving back in with Nanu for emotional rehabilitation and meeting Grimsley after the course of the game story.

#ship: it's ya bois #ship: taking a gamble on you #nice asks

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alazystranger · 2 months

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zolu fic recommendations? (i can take reading angst now)

Ooh, this is going to be bit of a long post. i have tried to include a mix of both angsty and otherwise.

*cracks knuckles* alright let's get down to it! I have included the summaries as given by the authors below the link.

let thy sword be thy tongue by queerweather. A personal favorite! I go back to this one a lot.

Hindsight is twenty-twenty, and Zoro is not afraid of Luffy handling his swords; Zoro is afraid of how Luffy handling his swords might unravel him.

Love you by willoffire123. Both angsty and sweet! Kind of like my comfort fic

When Luffy goes overboard one night during a winter storm, Zoro dives after him and the two are separated from their ship. Stranded on a winter island, slowly freezing to death, Luffy and Zoro come to realize their long dormant feelings for each other. Can they say their love in two words or less? Or will the winter island take their lives before they get the chance?

Loyal Till Death Do Us Part by StygianHeart. You said you can take angst now, anon? *cackles maniacally* this one has it all- whump luffy, traumatized zoro and what not. It has 13 chapters and it's absolutely worth it

Roronoa Zoro knows he’s loyal to a fault. And maybe that loyalty is only for his Captain and Crew. But realizing his loyalty for Luffy is also something more, something more personal and emotional, was not what Zoro wanted. And he definitely didn’t want the voices in his head to get so loud. But hey, we never get what we want, do we? In which Zoro figures out he’s in love with his captain and is in great denial, all while struggling through emotional repression and a bunch of shit he doesn’t deserve. Go figures.

running just to keep my hands on you by nevermordor. another fic i love to read again and again.

The thing they do is kind of like a game, because Luffy likes games, but it’s also kind of a competition because Zoro can’t not turn anything and everything into a competition. It doesn’t have a name and there are only two rules, because more than two would just be making things boring and overcomplicated. 1. Whoever takes out the most guys in a fight is the winner 2. Whoever is the loser has to do whatever the winner says “Why’s it gotta be a whole game and stuff," Luffy says. "That’s gonna take too long.” “It makes sex more fun," Zoro explains. "You gotta win it, you gotta earn it. Like anything good in life. Like pirate king or greatest swordsman.” Luffy considers this.

A gamble on love by SnailorBee. short and fluffy. had me grinning like an idiot. perfect fic to recover from the angsty ones.

Pre-Time Skip! "We have a bet amongst the crew, minus Chopper. You want in?" "A bet?" Brook repeated, mystified. "About what?" "If those two idiots are dating or not." Nami jerked her chin in the direction of the nap pile behind him. Strawhats and their bets about Luffy and Zoro.

To cut your teeth on love by freckledshoulderblades. basically a series of snippets from their first meeting to just after timeskip but full of zolu feels.

Zoro meets Luffy and gives himself over wholeheartedly the instant Wadō is placed between his teeth again. Luffy meets Zoro and decides in a heartbeat that Zoro is his.

poly philtatos(the most loved by far) by swordsmans. another personal favorite!

He keeps moving forward at a steady pace, resisting the urge to run because how fucking embarrassing would that be, running because he missed them, and as he breaks through the treeline he shouts, “Oi, oi—what took you guys so long? It's been—” And then he freezes, because yes, actually—something is very, very wrong. The Sunny is anchored just off shore, close enough to see the deck but far enough away that the crew has had to take the Mini Merry to make land. Scattered across the beach in various stages of chaos—rolling around, yelling, fighting—are his crew but not his crew, so similar and yet so, so different. They look younger, fresher, and whatthefuck there, on the deck of the Sunny just peering over the railing, he catches a flash of green—his own green hair— “Ah, fuck,” he grunts, and then immediately turns back around because no, actually, he does not want to deal with this.

These are a few of my picks. if you want more/shorter fics/if you were looking for something else, don't hesitate to send me another ask!

#zolu fic recs #zolu fanfic #these fics are really so precious to me it's insane #my second ask yay #zolu

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my-darling-inej · 2 years

Text

appreciation post for kaz’s best one-liners

because he’s the chandler of the crows

about jesper spelling ‘forgive me’ on dirix’s chest in bullet holes: “Compromise”, Kaz said. “I’m sorry does the trick and uses fewer bullets.”

“If you fail, all the world will suffer for it.” - “Oh, it’s worse than that, Van Eck. If I fail, I don’t get paid.”

“I had a question,”, said Kaz. “About your mother and whether the rumours are true.” (he says that to a guard in hellgate 💀)

when he tells wylan to watch jesper so he doesn’t go gambling: “I don’t need a nursemaid”, Jesper snapped. “More like a chaperone, but if you want him to wash your nappies and tuck you in at night, that’s your business.” (captain of the wesper ship from day one)

Kaz replied with a time-saving gesture that relied heavily on his middle finger and disappeared belowdecks. (i know, technically not a line, but still great)

“I’ll just hire Matthias’ ghost to kick your ghost’s ass.” (iconic 👏🏻)

when jesper doesn’t know what to do with the backless book: “Hold it up so we don’t have to look at your ugly face.”

“What is he doing?” asked Matthias. “Performing an ancient Zemeni ritual,” Kaz said. “Really?” - “No.”

“How do we cross? I don’t see anything.” - “Because you are not worthy.” - “I’m also not nearsighted. There’s nothing there.” followed by: “This is only one part of Hringkälla.” - “Yes, I know, then a tree tells you the secret handshake.”

“You can explain why our illustrious Shu scientist looks like one of Wylan’s school pals along the way.”

about van eck’s replacement for the ruby (that HE STOLE): “Nice pin,” Kaz said with a glance at the ruby stuck to Van Eck’s tie, “Not as nice as the other one, though.”

“Let’s go.” - “Me?” - “No, the idiot behind you.”

“How is-” - “Nina is fine. Jesper is fine. Everyone is fine except for me because I’m stuck with a gang of hand-wringing nursemaids. Keep a watch.” (actually it’s because of inej, but sure, kaz)

while petting a dog: “Now why can’t people be this easily trained?”

“I helped as well,” added Kuwei, looking sulky. “He did help,” Wylan said. “We’ll make him a plaque,” said Kaz.

“I need to do this. I’ve never been to my mother’s grave. I’m not leaving Kerch without saying goodbye.” - “Trust me, you care more than she does.” (i mean he’s right but jesus christ 💀)

“Pick up the pace,” Kaz said, eyeing his watch. “If I spill a single drop of this, it will burn straight through the floor onto my father’s dinner guests.” - “Take your time.”

when he breaks that dreg member’s leg: “My leg! My leg!” - “I recommend a cane.” (he’s a bad bitch and he knows it. 10/10)

Jellen Radmakker had fallen to the stage and was bellowing, “I’ve been shot!” He had not been shot.

when zoya tries to reanimate kuwei: “I really hope she gets this right,” murmured Nina. “Not as much as Kuwei does,” said Kaz.

in conclusion: kaz is actually funny as hell

#let him be funny in the show you cowards!!#six of crows #kaz brekker

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paper-mario-wiki · 4 months

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genuine question: is it worth for me(broke) to take out loans for school, knowing full well i'll never be able to pay them off in my lifetime?

like just as a gamble for potential future success?

I'm a bad person to ask this question, I didn't go to school in the US and never took out loans.

Also, no you absolutely shouldn't. If you've got money to apply to an American university, you've got money to apply to some other university in Europe somewhere, countless of which have robust english-speaking international sectors which you can acclimate yourself into for a fraction of the cost.

This is of course assuming a few things, like that you have access to a passport and have the capacity for international emigration, but honestly learning how to do all that shit instead of going to an american institution would do you better I think.

Like for real, this empire we live in is currently on the decline, if you can jump ship in ANY WAY you should, and university is a great way to get a 4-year visa to somewhere else.

This is my answer to you.

#anon

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ystrike1 · 4 months

Text

If You Save an Immoral Beast - By Hesha (7/10)

The perfect opening. Great characters. Good motivations. These are the ingredients to any good story, but the random superpowers ruin this one. I'm not saying it's unreadable, but it drops from great to mediocre by chapter four.

Lee is a slave. His mom was killed in front of him. He was sold into child labor. He keeps a bar clean. A certain bar called Night Butterfly, where the most beautiful slaves earn clients and money for their masters.

This is Pierre. An experienced slave trader who just so happens to own Lee. The brothel district is a fairly lawless place. It's easy for Pierre to control all of his products. Lee is a kid with no family who sleeps behind a stripper bar.

Nobody is gonna save him.

Reality is cruel.

Lee knows what happens to slaves who are old, ugly or otherwise useless. They are left disfigured in underground cells. The woman who cared for him had her mouth burned off. She never saw the sun. Her job involves tailoring clothes for new slaves and helping them bathe when they're injured, and total isolation outside of that.

The cells are where disobedient unwanted slaves go.

Lee decides he wants to live, and that means he needs to be wanted.

He decides to seduce clients who visit Night Butterfly. It's a very dangerous gamble, and he loses every time. He's looking for a golden goose. A noble lady that can satisfy his greedy owner.

Pierre knows he's trying to escape.

Lee is punished brutally.

Sounds like a standard backstory right?

Nope.

Lee is extra ruthless. He literally has no conscience. He's been living behind the bar since he was like ten. He knows how to manipulate lonely women. He catfishes all of them. He tells his rich clients he loves them, and they take on a risk too. His lovers try to free him with expensive mercenaries, secret ship voyage tickets and gold.....but it doesn’t work.

Pierre has the women whipped.

Beaten horribly.

It happens to all of Lee's "lovers".

He watches them bleed, and he doesn’t give half a shit.

Asha is from a completely different life. A prestigious Count household hired her. She is supporting her sick mother and she is a skilled domestic worker. She is a great cook and a quick wit that helps the manor solve daily issues.

Her master, Benjamin, has a good relationship with her. They aren't friends. They are a master and servant who just so happen to get along. They are the polar opposite of Lee and Pierre.

Master Benjamin seems to be a good man, but his head maid is not. She's affiliated with Pierre. She uses poor Ashe as a transport donkey for illegal gold. Ashe doesn't really have a choice, because smuggling means extra money for mom.

The suspicious head maid sends her to Night Butterfly.

There she finds Lee.

Lee suddenly has super strength now by the way. His whole story about using what he has to survive now doesn't matter, because he's strong enough to shred men twice his size.

Also Ashe is a healer....but she can't heal her mom for some reason???

Whatever.

She heals Lee and that's it. He's yandere for her. It's cheating and it sucks. I want Lee to be jealous of Ashe, and her shiny life with Benjamin. I want intrigue. Not glowy healer lights and glowy super strength eyes. Lee is a slave. Asha is a maid. They don't need to be special and they were more interesting without the superpowers.

Very disappointed.

I won't finish this one.

#yandere #male yandere #yandere male #yandere boy #recommendations #recs #rec #recommended #webtoon #If You Save an Immoral Beast

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lunarw0rks · 6 months

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Rachel!!

the way you wrote "Interruptions" 🤟🏼😪-

I've seen what you've done for other people and I want that too.

Please sir can I have more Alejandro x f!reader thots and feelings.

Make it nasty only the way you do.

a/n: sorry, this has been sitting in my inbox for weeks. hope you enjoy what i decided to write! I had a plus-sized reader in mind for this, but it's not a major part of it. the language is still inclusive!

PACIFY | ALEJANDRO VARGAS

⊹。°˖➴ Synopsis: Hooking up with your ex means you're still separated, doesn't it?

⊹。°˖➴ Pairing: Alejandro Vargas x Fem!reader

⊹。°˖➴ Warning(s): nsfw (18+), exes to lovers, ex!husband!Alejandro, mild angst, smut, oral sex (r.), p/v (unsafe) sex, slight dom/sub dynamics, breeding, kinda??/talk of pregnancy, tension w/ happy ending | W.C: 2.6k

꒦꒷ MAIN MASTERLIST ꒷꒦ ALEJANDRO MASTERLIST ──── ☆ read "Interruptions" here!

You tried your best not to think about him.

Not because of ill-treatment or the bickering. Your wounds were still too fresh. His schedule was too unpredictable, more than the gamble he took every time he left home. At first, you were convinced you could handle that life — wondering if your husband would come home in a body bag every time he ships off.

It was easier this way. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, the breakup was mutual. The phone call he got in the middle of the goodbye was ironic enough; yet another relationship milestone interrupted by his tireless career.

The low heels you wore clicked against the pavement; your brows furrowed as you reviewed an important email. The expression of disdain had become a permanent picture on your face ever since you two split.

You'd never admit it out loud, but you missed being taken care of.

Being alone wasn't all it was cracked up to be. And, because of your own stubbornness, you were reluctant to accept any more of his financial help. That meant rent and a search for better employment, which was no easy task.

But you got lucky today. An offer for a decent job; one you could budget properly with. With a chew of your lip, you pressed send and opened your car door, awaiting his reply.

You: Need to pick up my laptop.

The text was simple enough, but nothing ever was, was it? Instead of a message chime, your phone vibrated. His name flashed on the screen underneath 'incoming' and you could feel your eyes roll before you told them to.

Raising it to your ear, you huffed. Before you could get a word in, he spoke first. "It's nice to hear you breathe." Alejandro's voice comes through the static, reminding you of how audible your attitude had been. You didn't mean to be, but a text reply would have done the trick.

"Did you see my text?" You ignore his snide humor, tapping your fingers along your car window.

"Of course, I did. It's against the law to call my wife?" He chuckles and you feel as though he's with you; the mornings lying beside one another, his worlds tickling your eardrum.

Ex-wife, not wife. It wasn't official yet, but that was a habit you were still determined he break. "Do you know where my laptop is, or am I wasting my time, Alejandro?" You ask, shifting with impatience.

"Always so eager," he clicked his tongue, "it's in your old office. See? No need for dramatics." You rolled your eyes again, this time voluntarily.

As if he wasn't the mascot for melodrama.

You were completely dreading this short trip. For now, all you could rely on was the little voice assuring you you'd be 'in and out' of there within minutes.

It was only when you stood on the porch, that you realized you forgot to take the doormat as well. You urged yourself to remember that when you were out of here in five minutes. A petty realization, but a realization, nonetheless.

The oversized front door swings open, and there he is. "You don't need to dress up for me, amor. You hate me, remember?" He let out a tsk, shamelessly looking you up and down.

With a wave of your hand, you stepped inside without waiting for him to move. "I don't hate you, and you shouldn't joke about that, Ale." It was true; you didn't hate him, not even a little bit. His facetious humor was only amusing when it didn't inspire guilt.

Ignoring the pang in your chest, you said, "I had a job interview, hence the outfit." You glance at the living space, still familiar despite its void of all your belongings. "That's why I need my computer; then I'll be out of your hair."

His hair did look nice. Still silky and trimmed from a recent barber visit, you'd assume. His essence smacked you in the face, the suave cologne and aftershave — as if he'd cleaned up purely to tempt you.

Never would you give him the courtesy of admitting his success. Not verbally.

You walk toward the hall in the way of the office, but his arm stops you. Hovering over your abdomen, it's then you realize how close he'd gotten. "I put it on the table. Saves you the trip, no?" Another sarcastic comment. Big surprise.

"Ah, my savior, saving me the fifteen steps into the office," you match his tone, indeed spotting the laptop and charger left on the breakfast table.

It's not a bad favor, these heels couldn't have been less comfortable. He chuckles a bit, as if dismissing you, but never removes his arm. It lingers there, eventually giving your hip a squeeze. Not possessively, not carnally — it's an attention-grab.

"Forgive me, cariño, I know I've been..." He cuts himself off early, regathering his scrambled thoughts. "You look good. Today and— and always. I'm happy for you."

You raise a brow subtly, instinctively mellowing your voice. "For what? The job?"

"Something like that," Alejandro replies with a shield of vagueness, rubbing the flesh he'd squeezed. You hadn't moved despite how close he was. And it was more than the position you'd taken; so much more.

You open your mouth to retort again but fall short. "Listen, Alejandro..." He continued fondling your hip, slowing to a stop when you began speaking, tilting his head.

The rest of your words refuse to come out under the scrutiny of his warmth, and he knows it. You shift around a bit, feeling vulnerable the longer you stare at one another — how many words are being said with one abiding look.

His lips ghosted over your temple, the tip of his nose against your hair. Alejandro breathed in the scent of your shampoo, getting remnants of your perfume. Two smells he missed, more than he'd care to admit out loud.

By night two of you were gone your pillow was void of it. Right now, it was like savoring your scent all over again — while you were looking your best.

Your tense shoulders relaxed, falling into old habits when your head leaned against him. "I should be going," you breathed your words, a slight hitch in your breathing from the contact. It wasn't like the feelings and desires faded the moment you split; they were as fresh as the wounds.

A hushed dismissal enters your ear in a purr, sending chills across your body. His breath roams down the side of your face, wrapping around until it reaches your lips. “Do it for me.”

It’s akin to the first time you hooked up. His lips swallow yours, a moan escaping you when his tongue swirls around. You turn to face him fully and cup his cheeks, “we shouldn’t be doing this.” Despite your protests, you don’t fight another kiss.

“It’s our house, isn’t it?” You only nod into his shoulder, rocking your hips under his touch. Alejandro’s palms run down your shoulder blades to your tailbone, giving your rear a squeeze. “Answer me, cariño.”

"Yes." You whisper, pressing your lips against his jaw, urging his roaming hands to end their pause.

Caring about right and wrong fleeted to the back of your mind, while he moved to the front of it — consuming every passing thought you'd had of him for months.

His hands resumed after a hum of approval, while yours worked at unbuttoning the stuffy shirt you were wearing. Eventually, you gave them a yank, not paying any mind to the fabric fraying. The warmth from your skin could practically be felt, feeling free once you were left in a bra.

Through the kiss, he took steps backward while you followed at his mercy. He backed through the doorway of the master bedroom, keeping you connected by the lips.

The bedroom welcomed you, as did the bed you were being pushed into. Once sleek and cornered, now wrinkled sheets beneath you as you squirmed. “Missed seeing you like this,” his lips caressed your navel, traveling south as he pulled off your bottoms, rolling them down your legs.

He lay between them, giving glances through his lashes. His arms hooked around your thighs, keeping the squirms to a minimum. You reached down and ran your fingers over his hand, “Alejandro.” You weren’t sure why you said it either; he hadn’t even gotten started. It was more of a declaration than a gripe.

His stubble tickled along your inner thighs, hot breath on your core the closer he leaned in. “Do you want me to stop?” He sneered after you’d whined his name again, a smirk tugging the corner of his mouth. The answer was no, and you weren’t sure how to feel about that; it was like he had you under his spell all over again.

You despised being so weak for him, but that’s just how you liked it. Your body told the story, quivering and wet from the mere ghost of his breath on your heat.

“No, I don’t want you to stop. But, we—” You declared with the remainder of your willpower, and that was all he needed to hear. With the rustling of some sheets and a dizzying spin, you were on your stomach. Even after all this time, he managed to leave you stunned and needing more than what you were given.

He hooks his fingers around the waistband of your panties and tugs at them, making you twitch from the intensity. After his direction, you’re on your hands and knees, gazing down at the familiar sheets. The hands redirecting you aren’t rough or mean; they’re salacious.

“The thorn in my side.” His chuckle is a mock, cut off a lick on your core. “If only she could see herself now.” Your reaction, as small as a shudder, did more than enough to prove his point. You squeeze the silky sheets, suddenly feeling the intensity of his mouth on your pussy. He angled himself underneath you, tilting his head to swirl around your sensitive clit.

You jolted forward, instinctively clenching your thighs shut. Alejandro’s buff hands worked quickly, prying them open once more so he could enter you with his tongue.

His head bobbed in a fluid motion, the messy slurps growing louder throughout the room. You couldn’t leave it at this; if you were going to be pathetic, you were dragging him down with you. Your attempt was risible when you said his name again — attempting to sound firm, despite ripping at the seams from only his foreplay.

A pitiful plea is muttered from your lips, halting his feral tongue. “Hm? You’re making demands now?” His tongue clicks and they are obvious jeers, daring you to roll over and slip your pants back on. But, of course, you didn’t. You were no match for his natural charm; the reason you were in this damn situation at all.

The stars must have been aligned that night because his banter didn’t worsen. His ferocious mouth ceased entirely, and several seconds passed with some shuffling around. For a moment, you were expecting to flip around and find him fleeing from his own bedroom.

Until his palm collided with your ass, a ceaseless sting radiating off the pricked flesh. Before you could do so much as a jolt, Alejandro clutched your hip to hold you in place. “You may boss me around out there, cariño—” his other hand gripped the base of his cock, abruptly filling you with every inch, “—but not here.”

If it weren’t for his fingertips digging like daggers, you would’ve fallen face-first into the mattress. His thrusts were sharp and paced, messily lubricated by his saliva that he hadn’t bothered to lap up.

You wanted to scowl at his cockiness. But he was right. If there were a mirror, you’d see how craven he turned you.

His hips clashed with your backside, a constant slap echoing throughout the room — and surely the rest of the abode. You mewled beneath him, figuring it was better to savor the pleasure while you still had it. There were few things that went right in your marriage; intimacy was one of them, no denying it.

Your body knew it, and deep down so did your mind. Though, even when he was deep inside you it was tempting to bicker, you knew you wouldn’t get much of a sentence out. Alejandro knew all of your sweet spots, which ones to caress and which ones to exploit.

When your back tensed into an arch, his length hit even deeper. “Ángel, what’s wrong? Can’t relax when I’m inside you?” He leaned forward, chest against your curved back to ensure his words resonated deep within your ears.

As much as you cursed yourself, you nodded weakly. The warmth of his breath on your ear disappeared. Following, his palm rested between your shoulder blades, nudging you forward until only your hips were raised; a position that left you an undeniably gladded mess.

He quickened his pace but continued to bottom out inside you, slinking an arm around to stimulate your clit. His fingers spread you apart, matching the whirlpool motion to the intensity of his thrusts. “You’re close, nena.” It nearly sounded like a warning; could have been, if you weren’t clenching around him so tight.

Considering he hadn’t hooked up with anyone in months, you were actively draining his restraint. His stamina prevailed — but his willpower? Not so much. Alejandro’s ab muscles constricted tight, burning from the strain of rutting into you. And you, currently enduring the clutter of an approaching climax; that coil tightening, the rough pads of his digits, his deep fill of you.

It all hit you at once, your fists balled into the sheets as you felt the sensations overtake you. Your walls quivered around him, propelling him into his own climax. As your ears buzzed, you faintly heard his raspy ramblings that he pumped through. His thrusts slowed but remained deep as you milked him dry.

Alejandro muttered a curse and pulled out of you, pressing a kiss to your jawline. Some things never change. As the pleasure fizzled, you recognized the tepid sensation of his raw finish. The repercussions of him finishing inside you should’ve been more daunting, but they weren’t.

You attempted to flip over but he’d quickly settled beside you, caging you with his chest against your back. “Was that okay?” He mumbled against your warm skin as wet lips pecked your shoulder a few times.

His voice alone nearly drew a shiver, growing especially hoarse during pillow talk. “Which part?” You breathed, instinctively tracing your fingers along his scarred arms. Your words were half sarcasm, while the other part of you was still catching up.

“Very funny,” you could feel his smile against your flesh, followed by the slight nip of his front teeth. “You know what I mean. This. Wouldn’t be so bad, hm? A family?”

Part of you wished a wave of regret would wash over you, with waves thick enough to thrash some sense into you. They never came. Something felt right about being tangled in bed again; foreign but right.

“No,” you murmured, catching the last of your breath. “It wouldn’t be. But, I thought you hated being bossed around? You think our baby wouldn’t do the same?”

Alejandro snickered and massaged the hip flesh he left slightly bruised, “Only by you.” You gave his bicep a light knock, and he physically saw the spark return to your eyes. The one you had before all the petty resentment and venom.

Whether or not parenthood was a fix meant little; there was no denying your chemistry.

If anything, tonight was a breakthrough — despite its unconventional beginning. Through all the new unknowns, there was one thing you knew for sure. You weren’t going anywhere.

₊˚⊹♡ ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ divider cred. - cafekitsune

#mw2 #call of duty #mw2 fanfic #mw2 alejandro #alejandro vargas x reader #alejandro cod #alejandro vargas #alejandro vargas smut #alejandro mw2 #alejandro vargas x you #alejandro x reader #los vaqueros #task force 141

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sanjisluvbot · 5 months

Text

Isekai Yandere Strawhats X Black Fem reader Chapter 19

Masterlist

It felt like the entirety of the last few months was a dream. Not being able to tell anyone about what you had experienced made you feel as if you were on the brink of insanity. You were back to the old life, not that you were angry, or sad for that matter. Your surroundings were just blurry and so was your mind.

You didn’t pay attention to most things that were in front of you, that’s why it took you so long to realize that next week was thanksgiving. A part of you, the part that suffered and laughed with these people was still somehow stuck in that universe. You had read online a few years ago that prolonged time in another reality would make you feel every symptom you were feeling now, you ignored it.

This wave of repressed emotions trampled you, it kept you stuck to the ground drowning in an abyss of confusion. “ Y/n I need you to go to the market adn buy the perishables for thursday and– are you listening to me?” knocking you back into your world you seen your mother looking at you in concern. Poor woman had absolutely no idea what was happening to you.

Everyone around you noticed the change, they simply thought you were going through teenage angst or something else. You would laugh to yourself at times, imagine if they really knew of the turmoil you were dealing with. You would be dropped off at the hospital with quickness.

At night you didn’t sleep the same, although you were almost always fighting for your life you were also accustomed to the sounds of the waves and the subtle rocking of the ship which helped you fall asleep. The night before thanksgiving you were forced to relive the events of what happened, as your cousin talked your ear off you slowly tuned out the noise when remembering the bone chilling statements of the strawhats.

“ Y/n… if you leave you will regret this.”

Law was injured, he had been fighting both Luffy and Zoro to give you more time, the rest of the two crews were fighting amongst themselves while you were below deck of the polar tang trying to drown out the noise. The screams of your name were angry, betrayed, and vicious. Luffy shoved his way through Law stretching his arm to grab onto the ship, Law was quick though and used his ability before Zoro could strike him. You were hiding in his room with the door locked and his desk shoved in front of it, the two of you knew how much of a gamble you were taking.

After agreeing that he would come with you and finally going through your plan you both silently agreed that maybe, in the future after Wano he would come. You knew that although it was unspoken that would probably never happen, you completely altered this timeline. This version of the one piece world was tainted by you in some of the worst ways, turning the heroes into villains that you seen them go up against and the villains that they’ve never even come face to face with.

You wish you could have law by your side at this moment, and just as you were about the break down the door began to rattle on it’s hinges.

“ Y/n! I know you’re in there, just come out. We can fix this, we can be as we used to. Don’t leave us.” Luffy sobbed.

You quickly rushed under the bed. What a cliche you thought. You had to get serious now, it was time to go home and you weren’t going to let anyone or anything stop you. You were in over your head when you got here but you weren’t to blame. Who would’ve know that the people you admire the most would turn out to be monsters.

When the door unlocked you were almost a memory, fading from this world and from the strawhast grap. Luffy quickly rushed under the bed trying to grasp at the strans off you, the anger in his body welling up. Law had slowly stalked in behind him with his infamous smirk, and Zoro was not too far behind. Angrily he dragged your feather of a body from beneath the bed, “ Y/n… if you leave you will regret this.”

Ashiver ran down your spine but you wouldn’t give himthe satisfaction of seeng you terrified for the last time. When your eyes fluttered yuou realizied you were back in your room, everything as it was and you decided to do the last thing in order to severe the link between that world nd yours. Without another thought you rushed around your room like a mad woman, scrambling for the bits and pieces you needed and when all was said and done you collapsed.

When you came to it your mother was calling you and your cousin to run a few errands for her. The chill of the fall weather helped keep you grounded and you finally felt like you could fully enjoy their company without being lost in what should be forgotten memories.

The next few months were a breath of fresh air. You were becoming whole again and life had more meaning than just escaping. You began speaking to people online about your experience, you put into a story. To others your story was fiction, a thought borne from the imagination plastered into the net for an online audience to enjoy. But to you, this was your life story, and you knew it would be far from over.

The End… of chapter 1

Authors Note: I would just like to say how grateful I am. When I started this series and this account I was at the lowest point of my life, I thought I would live in a never-ending nightmare forever until I started writing. I am so happy that so many people enjoyed this series and I apologize for stringing you along after maybe like the tenth chapter, I want you to know that although at one point I didn't really know what to do with this story anymore I fully put my all into every chapter. I am not a perfect writer but the comments of you all saying how much you like my story and you want more chapters gave me a breath of life that I desperately needed in order to continue. Thank you all and I hope you continue to watch me grow as a writer. - Symphony

Tags: 🏷️: @chaichaiiskai @mizzhellsingsstuff @herwritingartcowboy @axulaphie @toshirolovebot @futmblr @rhicambo @marim0cha @sasukeswife3 @mitskikinnie100 @alaurannara @angstylittleb1tch

#x black fem reader #one piece #one piece x black!reader #yandere strawhats #one piece headcanons #one piece x reader #x black reader #one piece imagine #one piece sanji #zoro x black reader #law x black reader #trafalgar law #isekai one piece #isekai x reader #isekai yandere #isekai yandere strawhats #yandere one piece #yandere imagines #one piece series

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