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#violet x you
sunricecake · 2 years
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💭 pussydrunk vi is such a menace. (and i have evidence to back that up. remember that scene where she's fresh from the prison and eats undercity food for the first time in a while? yeah.) she's loud, she hums, slurps, spits, groans, and talks against your pussy, loving the way your body shivers from the vibrations of her voice. she shakes her head and dives into your cunt like it's the last thing she'll ever have, rubs her nose against your clit and teases her tongue in and out your hole the way she knows you like. she's all about pleasing you, coaxing the prettiest sounds from you and watching your body writhe and tremble. because to vi, seeing you unfold beneath her, gush against her tongue and yell out her name in pure pleasure, is more than enough to make her cum too. she gets lost in the way you moan unabashedly, all inhibitions thrown out the window as you take in all the pleasure she's giving you. vi is a messy eater, and she won't stop until she has your arousal squirting all over the both of you and onto the sheets, glistening on your stomach and dripping down her chest. and oh is she a sight when she gets up from between your thighs as you come down from your mutiple highs, tongue slightly out in a pant when she's done ravaging you, her abs becoming prominent as she sucks in air, biceps flexing as she pushes her hair away from her face and wipes her sweat.
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ithebookhoarder · 5 months
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Truth or Dare (Anthony Bridgerton x Wife!Reader)
Summary: Married only a few months, you are very much one of the Bridgerton brood - something that often drives your poor husband mad, especially when you happen to be every bit as chaotic and unruly as his siblings... Also known as, you, Benedict and Eloise take a game of ‘truth or dare’ a bit too far. 
A/N: What can I say? It’s well and truly fluff-tober over here on my blog 😅
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Warnings: Alcohol, mild smut, swearing, Anthony losing his mind, typical Bridgerton sibling shenanigans 
Masterlist
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There weren’t many nights Anthony spent away from your side.
They were few and far between, but that didn’t lessen how irksome you found them when the odd occasion called for him to leave you over night. You didn’t know what it was exactly, but you never truly slept well without your husband there to hold you.
Of course, it had to be one of those nights that you truly found yourself in a spot of mischief. Though, in fairness, it had all started rather innocently.
Un-beknowst to you at the time, it was Benedict that had been first outside on the garden swing, sipping from a stolen bottle of whiskey he’d pilfered from the kitchens. He’d been sat there perhaps ten minutes by himself, staring at the stars and lamenting about some problem or other.
Then Eloise had come along.
As was her habit - you later discovered - she had been swift to follow her brother’s example, sneaking out of the house in her nightgown for a reprieve in the night air… and a cigarette or two. Apparently her second-eldest brother was something of a soft touch when it came to her, not that you could blame him for it. You doted on Eloise too.
Then, finally, completing the eclectic cast of characters, there had been you.
Now, in your defence, you hadn’t intended on going out into the garden that night, but had found no other alternative suitable given the blasted summer heat. It was worse tonight that it had been all week, and without Anthony in bed beside you, you saw little point in enduring with the effort of trying to get any rest.
So, you’d decided to make your way quietly through the house and sit outside a while, and pray for a breeze. You hadn’t, however, expected to find both Bridgerton siblings already sat there, having had a similar idea.
“My, what do we have here? Another night owl?”
It was Benedict who spoke first, smiling warmly at the sight of you appearing out of the darkness. He was quick to rise, offering you his swing as a perch to rest upon, beside Eloise.
You were about to protest that it wasn’t necessary and that you could find somewhere else to sit, but a warning glare from Eloise was enough to silence you.
She was all too eager to pat the seat next to her in invitation, looking remarkably pleased to have another addition to their little party.
“Come. Sit,” she ordered. “We were simply discussing how tedious Lady Tremaine’s luncheon will be tomorrow and how we could possibly avoid the whole thing. Now that you’re here, you can help us plot our escape. Benedict’s only suggestion thus far has been some kind of contagious summer cold.”
“I think I actually said that I would use such an excuse, sister,” Benedict corrected with a teasing grin. “Not that we would share it.”
“Traitor.”
“Hardly. It is every man - or woman - for themselves. Right, Y/N?”
“Alas, I think your mother would be rather suspicious at all three of us suddenly being absent,” you sighed by way of explanation as both their eyes turned to you. “Besides, I only came outside because of this heat, not to join some conspiracy.”
“Hardly,” Eloise chuckled. “We simply had the same idea, but I am rather glad you came to join us. Perhaps we should form some secret kind of club - Bridgertons against boredom?”
“And do what? Constantly find excuses not to attend social events we deem too tedious or odious to be dragged along to?”
“Sounds like a marvellous idea to me.”
“It would, sister dear,” Benedict teased. “You always have a talent for causing chaos and anarchy. You’d suit the cause perfectly, even if we both know our mother would never stand for it. She somehow sees through even our best efforts.”
“In which case, it’s time I take a leaf out of your book, Benedict. After all, you always say social events become far more bearable after a good drink or two,” Eloise smirked, gesturing towards the bottle of whiskey Benedict had been steadily nursing. “Perhaps I should follow my brothers  example and learn to hold a drink, maybe then things will be more fun.”
“Oh no.” Benedict was quick to shut down that idea, holding the bottle possessively to his chest and shaking his head. “No. I am not allowing you to start drinking. Mother would have my head if she caught you, not to mention Anthony would have all ours heads on a platter in no time.”
The thought of it made you laugh. Your husband was hardly a tyrant, even if he’d been known to have a temper but he was easy enough to handle. A few soft words in his ear or a kiss on the cheek and he was putty in your hands, helplessly and completely in love with you. Just as you were in love with him.
“Don’t tell me you’re scared of Anthony, Benedict?” you giggled, causing Eloise to join you. “I assure you, he’s more a kitten than a lion and he’d probably prefer you to allow Eloise to sample alcohol here, under your supervision, than when she inevitably decides to rebel and has her first drink later on, in the middle of some public ball…”
The warning was clear and you all knew very likely true. Still, Eloise was beaming in victory as Benedict cursed to himself, muttering about Bridgerton women and the likely death he’d receive should Anthony ever find out he had allowed Eloise to sample whiskey. “Just a few sips, El. I mean it.”
“Oh hush,” she snorted, taking the bottle before he could change his mind. She was quick to throw back her head and down a rather brave mouthful, causing you to laugh even harder as she scrunched her face up in disgust. “Oh! That is revolting.”
“I told you.”
“Now you, Y/N,” Eloise grinned, turning and offering the offending item towards you. “Go on. Join us trouble makers - I won’t say a word about it if you don’t.”
“Oh, for goodness sake… Give me that then,” you sighed, earning a cheer from them both, knowing it was better to simply surrender rather than try and fight their mischievous whims. It only increased as you took an ambitious swig from the bottle, wincing at the acrid burning sensation it left in your throat.
If only Anthony could have seen you. He’d have probably had some kind of seizure - especially as you took another quick swig before handing the bottle back.
“There. Your turn again, brother dearest.”
“My my. You really are quite surprising,” Benedict sniggered, before winking up at you in admiration. “Who knew it? You can hold your drink better than Colin. He seems cursed to choke any time he drinks anything stronger than a brandy.”
“Well, it is your sex that falsely deemed us the weaker,” Eloise quipped. “It’s not our fault you were ignorant.”
“I’d like to remind you I wasn’t part of that decision and you also looked ready to choke a moment ago, El.”
“Doesn’t matter, you’re still one of the enemy,” she giggled, earning another raucous laugh from you. Oh, you loved her. If you’d ever been so blessed to have had a sister, you hoped she’d have been just like her. “Now, it is your turn again, brother.”
“Oh … joy.”
“Else we shall have to have some kind of forfeit.”
“A forfeit?” you scoffed, finding the idea absurd. “Like what?”
“How about… truth or dare?”
Benedict froze. “Oh no. Not again. Pall Mall is one thing but we swore we would never play that game in this family again-“
“But Benedict-“
“What’s truth or dare?”
Your innocent question ceased their bickering instantly. Their eyes widened as they turned to you, a knowing and nervous look passing between them. Somehow, you knew this evening was about to get wildly out of hand.
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Sometime later, you’d been fully apprised of the rules of ‘truth or dare’. In fact, you’d been something of a natural at it, even if you knew the copious amounts of whiskey you’d all consumed was more than likely the responsible culprit. Else, you’d probably have known better and snuck back off inside before you could make a fool of yourself.
By the end of the night, Benedict had climbed a tree, confessed to being oddly scared of spiders, and been forced to sing the national anthem in French.
Eloise had also made an admirable effort, despite her obviously lower tolerance for drink. She still permitted Benedict to try and arrange her hair, before daring to steal a sock from Colin’s room whilst he’d slept. Then she’d loosened a leg on a dining chair. (Alas, none of you could remember which one but that somehow made it even funnier - even if it would not be come morning when you were forced to sit at the table for breakfast in some kind of roulette.)
You could only pray you didn’t choose said seat.
You could also only pray neither of your conspirators shared your contributions with your husband. You weren’t exactly sure how Anthony would feel at the fact you gone for a midnight paddle in the pond, nor that you’d mixed up the papers on his desk, all before finishing the night with a final dare that involved stealing several cakes from the kitchens… you still swore Mrs Reynolds would notice, come morning, that there were no longer twelve perfect cakes.
That, and Benedict had somehow knocked flour all over the counter, causing you all to erupt in drunken laughter as you’d bolted back outside.  
Needless to say, you all looked a sorry sight as you lay in the grass together, staring at the approaching dawn. Had you not been so tired, or drunk, you may have suggested retiring back to your rooms before the house awoke shortly.
“Now that… was fun.”
“Fun? That was more than fun. I haven’t laughed like that in ages.”
“Told you it was a good idea.”
You hummed in agreement with your sister in law.
“I can see why you all favoured this game so much,” you sniggered, winking at Eloise as she sat in the grass beside you. “I can also see why you all agreed to stop playing it… I don’t know what Anthony would say if he saw what we’d been up to.”
“Something sensible and disapproving most likely,” Benedict sniggered. “Our brother, and your husband, can be a right prig, no offence.”
“Oh hush. At least I didn’t let my sister dress me up in her petticoat when she was five.”
Benedict’s jaw dropped.
“Who told you about that?” he demanded indignantly.
“I have my sources.”
Benedict’s eyes narrowed as he turned his head to glare at his younger sister. “Well, you can tell your source that she’s going to have to find someone else to fetch her lemonade at the Cowper’s ball tomorrow night unless she apologises. You can also tell her that I’ll accept either a verbal or a written apology as long as it’s suitably abject. And that means very, very abject,” he added darkly.
“Tell me, Benedict, was it a lacy petticoat?”
With a wordless grunt of annoyance, Benedict groaned, but it was hard to hear over the laughter echoing from you and Eloise. You resembled more a pack of hyenas than two noble ladies - you probably looked just as feral after your night of mischief.
And of course, as was always your luck, that was exactly how your husband found you mere seconds later.
How Anthony had arrived without any of you hearing a carriage pulling up to the house at this time of the night - morning? You couldn’t be sure - was a mystery. Yet, there he was, hands on hips and looking thunderous as he stormed towards the three of you with all the fury of an exasperated headmaster.  
“What in God’s name are you all playing at?”
You all froze.
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It was as if someone had poured a bucket of ice water over you as your eyes widened, and you all turned to stare sheepishly at him.
“Oh, darling. You’re home?”
“Don’t ‘oh darling’ me,” Anthony sighed, attempting to scold you but without much success. His attempt at seriousness was somewhat undermined by his brother’s heckling, singing ‘here comes mother’ and that ‘someone’s in trouble’. That, and with the way you were lying, he was upside down. “What are you doing up at this god forsaken hour? And why are you … is that flour? And why are you soaking wet?”
“I went for a swim.”
“A - you went for a -“
“And Benedict did my hair,” Eloise interjected suddenly, waving her arms about as she gestured to the tangle of hair upon her head. “Isn’t it marvellous?”
Anthony’s expression very much said that he did not think it was marvellous. Nor did he find any of this vaguely amusing.
In fact, by the way he took a long deep breath, you knew he was doing his best not to lose his temper and wake the entirety of the household. His brow always creased like that when he was faced with dealing with his family, but the expression only made him seem more adorable and handsome to you, rather than authoritative. However, you’d never told him so, knowing it would hardly be deemed a compliment in his eyes.
You also doubted he’d appreciate your usual response right now, which was normally to kiss said brow until it eased back into its relaxed form.
“We were just playing a game to escape the heat, darling,” you soothed. “We couldn’t sleep and all had the same idea to seek refuge outdoors… we simply got carried away passing the time.”
“What game?”
“Pardon?”
“I said, what was the game you were all playing?” Anthony suddenly quipped, the warning clear in his tone. That, and his eyes landed squarely on his two siblings, who at least had the decency to look sheepish… and afraid. “Because there is but one game I can think of that would result in a mess like this one, and I’m confused, because I know for a fact that we banned that game under this roof, and any other roof that houses the Bridgertons.”
No one moved.
No one even breathed.
It was as if you were all too scared to risk answering Anthony, even if the empty bottle of whiskey did most of the talking by itself.
“I don’t recall the name,” you blinked. “Right, Benedict?”
“Oh, uh… we… we were just- Eloise?”
Eloise froze, the guilt written all too clearly on her face for her to even try and salvage the situation - though that could also be down to the whisky she had consumed… it was honestly hard to be sure at this point.
“Well, dear brother,” she began, only to trail off as Anthony lifted his hand.
The silence was instantaneous. 
No one dared to say another word, let alone move. 
You’d never seen Eloise or Benedict so still in your entire life. Hell, you weren’t even sure they were breathing - probably out of fear Anthony would decide to inform their mother about their mischievous exploits. 
If Anthony Bridgerton was scary when vexed, then Violet Bridgerton was a nightmare brought to life in human form. After all, as the matriarch of a family of eight children, she had learned a long time ago how to keep her unruly children in line - a harrowing experience you had only had occasion to witness once or twice since your marriage into the Bridgerton family. Once had been when Colin and Gregory had broken a priceless vase when racing around the house, despite being explicitly banned from doing so. The other had been when she had caught Eloise and Benedict smoking outside on the terrace one night. 
It was easy to say where your husband had inherited it from. 
“Not. Another. Word,” your husband growled, bending down and sweeping you up into his arms in a move that made you squeal in surprise. “Right now, I am taking my wife to bed and I suggest you two do the same - after you clean up your mess. I’ll deal with the lot of you in the morning.” 
A laugh escaped you as you tried not to look like you were enjoying the sudden turn of events too much. After all, you doubted he’d be too happy once you were more sober and he discovered the true extent of your nightly activities. 
It was why you were only too happy to let him put you to bed, grumbling all the while about letting his siblings run wild. He really was most handsome when he was flushed - a fact you were reminded of as he hastily changed for bed, flashing you a tempting glimpse of his bare torso in the process. 
You could tell without asking he was tired from his journey home, as well as fighting the urge to rip his hair out over the chaos he had found upon his return. 
Thankfully, his need to be in your arms outweighed the need to scold you over letting yourself be drawn into his siblings’ schemes. All it took was you pulling him down onto the mattress, and climbing into his lap to turn him into a needy, lovestruck puddle. 
You’d equally missed having him in your arms, but you’d be lying if you said that your sudden forwardness wasn't also due to a mixture of the whiskey you’d drunk, and the residual giddiness from a night of mischief. A confidence radiated from you as you began to run your hands over his bare chest, taking care to graze the areas you knew made him groan. 
“You’re lucky I love you so much,” he teased breathlessly, visibly unable to refuse your advances. 
“Is that so?”
Anthony chuckled, nodding as he surged his lips towards yours. “Yes, so come here, my delinquent drunken wife, and let me kiss you before you and those doe-eyes of yours drive me insane. Now.”
Your laughter and surrender was immediate. “As you wish.” 
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Alas, for poor Anthony, that was not the end of the ordeal. 
In fact, it was the next morning as you made your way into breakfast that you faced the final consequences of your delinquency. 
Despite wishing to remain abed for the entire day, you’d been granted no such reprieve as your maid had entered your room at the usual appointed time and proceeded to open the curtains with no regard for the fact that you had slept a mere handful of hours. Whereas you would normally greet the day with a reluctant smile, you were in no state to manage much more than a groan as you were harshly ripped from your slumber.
If you had somehow not yet come to the conclusion that last night had been a bad idea, then the sudden flare of pain in your head at the bright intrusion was all the proof you needed. That, and the sudden churning in your stomach. 
You would never let Benedict or Eloise coax you into drinking with them again. 
You had not realised, despite how the idiom went, that what went up was sure to come down again - and you had come crashing down. 
Hard.
“If you’re ready to dress, my lady, then breakfast will be served shortly,” your maid chirped, a dress already picked out for you to wear. She either couldn't detect your fragile state, or didn't seem to care as she continued speaking at a painfully loud volume. “My Lord sent me to wake you as he is finishing business in the study. He was up frightfully early, I could scarce believe it went the housemaids told me they’d already found him awake when they went to start the fires this morning. Gave young Samantha a right fright he did, scribbling away at his desk.” 
“Oh?” you croaked. 
You hadn’t even noticed the empty space in the bed bedside you until then. 
Clearly Anthony had risen early, if he’d even gone to sleep at all. Why were you not surprised? Your husband was perpetually in motion, always claiming there was something or someone that needed his urgent attention as the head of the Bridgerton clan. It was just one of the things that made you love him so much.
“Is he still there?”
“Yes, Ma’am,” the young girl continued, breezing about your room. “And that’s not the only strange incident this morning. It will tickle you rotten when I tell you the latest drama, but you see, Mrs Reynolds was ranting and raving about how she swore she had made three trays of fruit tarts last night, yet this morning, there were only two. The youngest kitchen maid, Betsy, is convinced it must be a ghost but my money is on Carter - the groom’s boy - he’s always snooping about the kitchen...” 
You winced. Ah. Maybe you hadn't been as stealthy last night as you’d hoped after all...
With as much enthusiasm as you could muster, you began to peel yourself from the mattress, trying to appear as if you were listening to your maid’s theories as she dressed you for the day. It then took all your resolve to make it downstairs and to the breakfast table without tripping over your own feet, or emptying the non-existent contents of your stomach. 
To your relief, only Eloise and Benedict had so far taken a seat at the breakfast table - and both looked about as miserable as you felt.  
“Good morning,” you mumbled, taking your usual chair next to the head of the table. You were quick to accept the steaming cup of coffee Benedict handed you, shooting him a thankful look. “Dare I ask how we feel?” 
“I think better than you and my dear sister here,” Benedict chirped, gesturing at a miserable looking Eloise. She had her head in her hands and was desperately trying to look at the plate of food in front of her with something other than repulsion. “Then again, I must admit I am somewhat more experienced in the art of late-night mischief than you both. I also did not have to deal with my brother before going to bed - thank you, again, for that noble sacrifice.”
“Your welcome,” you chuckled, a faint heat rising in your cheeks as you remembered the exact events after you and Anthony had gone to bed. “I just feel bad that you both got left to clean up the mess.” 
“Don’t be. I think we got it all.”
“You say that but I can’t remember anything after you started singing in French,” Eloise groaned, massaging her forehead once more. “I have the oddest feeling we may have forgotten something.”
You paused. You could only hope for your sake she was wrong. 
However, you were saved from such discussion by the arrival of the rest of the Bridgerton bunch. All conversation about your night-time escapades were quickly forgotten as Colin, Hyacinth and Gregory entered the room, bickering about something you couldn’t quite make out. They were swiftly followed by Violet and Francesca, who both looked unfairly cheerful for so early in the morning. 
You could only wish to look so fresh and composed before your first cup of whatever caffeinated beverage you could get your hands on. 
Then, finally, came your husband. Entering the room last, he turned and shot you a warm smile. Clearly, your shenanigans had been forgotten - for now - replaced instead by the memory of your other activities, much to the relief of you and your co-conspirators. 
In fact, you swore you saw Eloise exhale a breath of relief when Anthony didn't immediately launch into one of his lectures. Instead, he chose to join the rest of his family in helping himself to the awaiting breakfast spread, laid out on the sideboard for them, listening to some ongoing debate between his mother and youngest brother. 
“-but you said we could visit the park this afternoon.”
“I know, sweetheart, but I have to take Francesca and Eloise for their final fittings at the modiste. We shouldn’t be too long, and we can go after? Unless, perhaps your brothers will take you. Colin? Benedict? Anthony?”
Benedict looked physically pained at the idea of an afternoon at the park, what with his current delicate constitution and all. You honestly couldn't blame him. “Well, I uh - have a drawing class, this afternoon. Very last minute. Sorry.” 
“And I... um, have a meeting at the club?” Colin stammered hastily. “Anthony?” 
“Please, Anthony?” Gregory begged, all but pouting at his older brother as the pair made their way to the table. “I promise I’ll do all my lessons this week without complaining if you say yes. I’ll even let you have my pudding tonight.”
“As you asked so nicely, brother, I don’t see how an hour or so at the park could do any harm -” Anthony began, pulling out the chair next to you and lowering himself onto the seat in a moment that felt like it lasted forever as a horrifying sensation swept over you. 
You remembered what you’d forgotten. 
The chair.
“Anthony, wait-!”
The sudden crash was startling, as was the sight of your husband being sent flying backwards as the chair collapsed beneath him. 
No one moved. 
No one said a word. 
Benedict looked across at you and Eloise, the horror clear in his eyes as he choked the word you felt on the tip of your tongue: “Run!”
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xjdkg89q · 5 months
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And though I'm still battered and bruised I forgave the world the day that I met you.
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forbidden-sunlight · 2 months
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yandere!Alastor with Violet Evergarden!reader scenario: A Wendigo's Violent Love
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Warning: aged-up!reader [in early to late twenties], violence, spoilers for episodes 7 and 8 in the first season of the 2024 show, possessive and obsessive behavior, Alastor is in denial, physical abuse, implication of friends to enemies.
There may be possible triggers in this story.
If you do not feel comfortable venturing any further, please hit the back button on your phone or computer and read something much more pleasant than a possible series of unfortunate events.
Hey guys, welcome to another Hazbin Hotel fic! I know I had said that I was going to be on a break until the 8th or 14th in my last post, but I had gotten a burst of inspiration after watching the season finale and wrote this after discussing the idea with @riddle-simp and collaborated with @witch-of-the-writing-desk. It's because of these two that I managed to write 2k in a single day, so please give a big round of applause to these amazing individuals.
So with that being said, sit back, relax, and let's see what's going on in tonight's broadcast with Hell's one and only Radio Demon!
Part Two
Alastor could not believe what had happened on the rooftop. No, he refused to believe that he was nearly killed by a hair. To almost die for his friends, a fucking altruist of all things.  Sorry to disappoint, but this is not how his story will end here. He thought viciously, tugging at his hair as memories rushed through his mind. He needed more. He needed his freedom. Yet this deal is restricting his powers from reaching their fullest potential, and it almost killed him. Yes, there has to be another way to get out of it. But more importantly….he needed to stop these feelings bubbling inside of him. These feelings he felt towards you. 
You, a simple groundskeeper who had forgotten what it meant to be a human and served as a weapon in war. You, who did not use technology like him yet still found a way to connect with the rest of the hotel’s wayward souls.
He hates it and he wants you gone, out of sight and out of mind, because these feelings have put him in more danger than necessary. When he finds the backdoor of his deal, how to unclip his wings, he will be the one pulling all of the strings and claim the power that he rightfully deserves. He is the Radio Demon, the Great Alastor! Nothing else matters to him!
He made his decision right in the dilapidated radio station to never get attached to you or anyone else again. To only focus on himself and no one else. He is in Hell for a reason, after all. He cackled, feeling the thrum of his power rising in unison with his conviction. Yes. He thought. Yes, he’s Alastor! The cold, ruthless overlord who always has room for more voices on his broadcast. Not some soft-hearted twit who would die for someone! 
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But what he did not realize at the time, just right underneath the hatch, you had heard everything. 
Despite your injuries and losing both of your arms to angelic steel, you had used your strength to trek through the debris and look for him. Now knowing that he despised you, knowing that he sees you as nothing more than a weapon to use for his convenience….well, you could not blame him. You were a weapon when you were alive. You were feared, you were hated, and you did not care at the time. So why did it hurt so much when he said that? You did not know, except it was better to keep your distance from him. 
So you left the Radio Demon alone, staggering away to join the others. 
Vaggie was somehow able to find Sir Pentious’ blueprints for your prosthetics in a fireproof trunk beneath the rubble, and put in a call to Carmilla Carmine to see if she could make them with angelic steel instead of adamantine. Of course, the angelic arms dealer took a look at them first before agreeing to it, but not before telling Vaggie she must ask for your consent to do the procedure and what you wanted to add or remove. You gave your input, and the procedure was scheduled for the following week. Although you could not help with the construction of the hotel, you did assist Charlie by putting together an eulogy and memorial service for Sir Pentious. The princess was not sure when it would be held, hopefully when the hotel was finished. 
You understood, softly promising to be by her side for support, even if you had to be pushed in a wheelchair. Sir Pentious had been a good person, an inventor and a gentleman who was nothing but kind and respectful to you. Even though you offered to pay him for doing repairs on your arms in the past, he brushed it off and instead asked you to join him for tea. He…you hoped he found peace. 
On the day of your procedure, you asked the overlord a question that had been plaguing your mind since the war. “Madam Carmilla, I am a weapon. I was raised to be one, to be used and tossed aside when my usefulness had expired. So…why is it that I am bothered by what Alastor said…on that day?” You did not dare to elaborate on what he exactly said to her, just that he said that he did not want to see you anymore. Be gone from his sight and mind. 
She stared at you for a long moment before she replied coolly, “So I have heard from Vaggie. But I do not share her thoughts. A weapon is lifeless. You are a person. An emotionally stunted one, but someone is living, breathing, and who can still be hurt by what others say about them even if they can’t see it. You are upset because of what Alastor said….and in my humble opinion, whatever you feel towards him, discard it. There is nothing to gain by being close to him.” She then turned away, pulling on a pair of gloves over her hands as one of her daughters placed a mask over her face. “Are you ready to begin? This is your last chance, and I cannot promise it won’t hurt.”
“I am.” You said. “Thank you for answering my question.” 
Carmilla nodded, and proceeded to give out instructions to you and the rest of the staff in the operating room. You complied, not wanting any more time to be wasted on your behalf. At least now you knew why you were upset.  It was because you cared about Alastor. Cared….yes, that is the appropriate word. You had to distance yourself from him. It is what he wanted, so you must respect his decision as the manager of the Hazbin Hotel. 
Yes, it is better this way.
That was the last thought that crossed your mind before a mask was placed over your face, and everything fell into darkness. 
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Alastor did not understand. You were doing what he wanted you to do. He did not want to see or talk to you unless it was necessary. So why was it making him angry? When he congratulated you on a successful recovery from your procedure, complimented your progress in physical therapy per Carmilla’s instructions, or how lovely the eulogy you wrote for Sir Pentious' memorial service, you showed no reaction. You simply stared at him with a hollow expression before thanking him, excusing yourself with a bow of your head. 
He should be elated. No, he is pleased. He is satisfied that his relationship with you has not gone by being professional. Why, you even pull away as soon as he lays a finger on you~! So why does it bother him that you recoil from his touch? No. He…cannot accept it. He cannot accept this.  He needed to speak to you. Discreetly. 
However, now that this new and improved Hazbin Hotel stood in place of the old one, everything is much bigger with the additional square footage; meaning there would be more ground to cover if Alastor is to ever find you, even if you do not wish to see him.
 Niffty, bless her little deranged mind, pointed him in the direction of the greenhouse. Of course, it was much bigger than the old one. But he still saw the old stained glass windows of the Moriningstar family crest lined up on the south side, allowing red light to come through and shine down on seedling trays with new shoots poking out of the inky soil. The clean, fragrant scent of herbs permeated the air as he walked through the rows of berries, juicy melons, and other culinary delights. He did not think this place would already be thriving when you were the only one who tended to it, as the hotel’s groundskeeper. However…this is you. You, who is able to accomplish anything once you put your mind to it. 
He found you hiding just beyond the apple trees, kneeling beside a bush of glistening roses, armed with pruning shears and an apron over your clothes. A watering can sat on the grass by your side. Your back was facing him…which allowed him the element of surprise. Grinning, he leaned forward, stretching his gloved fingers to lightly caress the petals of the rose you were about to snip off. 
“Oh, my apologies dear. My hand slipped!”
You glanced at him over your shoulder, emotionless [Eye Color] irises holding a steady gaze before turning away. “It’s all right. There are others that I can place at Sir Pentious’ memorial site.” You said, raising the shears to carefully cut another rose with a small snip. “Thank you for your concern.” 
The static around him buzzed, swelling in synchronization with his boiling anger towards you. “I see.” He hissed. “I am terribly sorry to disturb you.”
“It is all right.” Snip. “If there is nothing else, please allow me to finish this so that I can go on break. Niffty will not be happy if I am not out of here within ten minutes.” 
“I’m afraid we must discuss something, [First Name].” He pressed on, irritated at your uncharacteristic rudeness. “That is why I am here. So please turn around and look at me.”
You did. You placed the shears down, twisted your body around so that you looked at him straight in the eye. “Yes?” You said. “What do you need?”
He smiled, the static around him coming to a screeching halt and he was much calmer. Finally, He thought. You were looking at him, instead of avoiding his gaze. “I understand that since you have been cleared to return to work, you’ve been quite busy~! However! What I do not understand is why you have been ignoring me.” He leaned forward, feeling his eyes transform into radio dials. “You do not greet me as much as you have before, we haven’t had tea together, nor have we taken a stroll in Cannibal Colony~! So…why are you acting like I am a complete stranger to you?”
“Because I know the truth.”
Any and every thought he could have possibly said to her at this moment evaporated upon hearing your answer. “Pardon? I’m sorry but I didn’t catch that.” His voice leaked through the rising static. He felt his antlers grow, expanding past his ears with cr-crik, crick noises. Like the roots of a tree. 
“I know the truth. I know that you are angry over what happened in the war, how everyone saw you flee from your battle against Adam. I know you wish to unclip your wings and that you utterly despise me. So I am doing what you wish for. To maintain a professional relationship as the groundskeeper and the manager of the Hazbin Hotel. Our goal is to redeem sinners. There’s nothing beyond business between us.” You said with a calm and expressionless composure. “I went there that day, to the radio station. I had gone there to look for you, to make sure you were all right when I heard your words. But know this,” A sudden sheen of ice glazed over your eyes. “If you bring harm to Charlie or anyone in this hotel, I will kill you where you stand.” 
The last thread of patience in his psyche split in half. Before he could stop himself, Alastor pinned you against the ground, his hands on your shoulders and glaring at you, trying to intimate you with his true form, to scare you into silence as he had done with Husk…but you held your gaze. 
“It’s terrible manners to eavesdrop on someone, my dear.”
“And it isn’t wise to attack someone when you are not even at your full strength.” 
In a flash you immediately flipped him over, straddling his hips as you held down his wrists over his head with one hand. The other held a garden spade to his throat and he was burning. That was when he realized you weren’t wearing your gloves, thus the angelic steel is the reason why his skin is on fire. 
“Calm yourself, Alastor.” You said. “There is no reason to be angry when I am doing what you want me to do. Nor to act as you are doing right now. I advise you to take slow, deep breaths and count to five backwards.” 
“Release me.”
“Not until you have calmed down.” The way you replied so calmly, so…lifelessly, made Alastor angry. Angrier than he has felt in a long, long time. Not since his prey had escaped the forest and he did not get to eat them. Not since his mother died, leaving him alone in the world except for a drunken asshole who wasn’t worthy of being his father. Make these feelings stop NOW
“Come to my office in exactly twenty minutes for an evaluation about your conduct at work. Do not be late.”
That was the last thing he said to you before he sunk into the grass as an inky shadow, slithering back towards the greenhouse’s entrance towards his room. He couldn’t believe it. How could you have known everything? How could he not have sensed your presence? Was he that weak? No. No, he assumed he was alone and clearly he had not been. You were an anomaly. You were raised as a weapon; to spy, to kill, to search and destroy upon the command of your master. 
So why does it still bother him? Why does his head feel like it is about to split in half as he goes over the conversation over and over in his mind? Why is his heart falling into the pit of his stomach at remembering your promise to kill him if he harmed anyone here in the hotel? Why does he have this urge to know how you truly feel towards him? Do you still care for him? Do you love him?
In twenty minutes, he needed to know the truth…or else he would go insane.
What Alastor did not realize though, as he holed up himself in his quarters until the allotted time to meet with you, Husk had seen the whole thing from the door. 
He was going to drag you to lunch because Niffty had gotten pissed that you were skipping meals again…and thank fuck Alastor did not see him. Husk, the drunken gambler and former overlord, almost flew over to you with a worried look, grumbling under his breath. Once he saw that you were all right and did not have visible bruises or injuries courtesy of a certain someone, he grabbed you by the hand, leading out of the greenhouse. He was not going to let Alastor hurt you again.
He might be a dumbass, can’t fight worth shit…but you are important to him, and he’ll protect you even if it means putting himself in the line of fire again. 
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wrtinginblood · 4 months
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Vi having you cockwarm on her strap as you try to play videogames. As soon as you're in a tight spot and you hyperfocus, she thrusts into you, killing your character every time. You want to be mad, but instead you just end up cumming all over her lap
nsfw ౨ৎ
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maybe you were all grinding back on her and whining about wanting her to just fuck you, but now you were fully entranced in your game; eyes blown wide at the screen, pterodactyl grip on that controller and completely oblivious
vi realises you’re not really paying attention to her anymore, her fingers trailing over your skin going basically unnoticed.
she slouches back against the couch, letting her legs part and frowning as she glares at the screen and lets her hand drop from your sides. you don’t notice, far too busy and fixated.
so she waits until a fight scene, maybe one you struggle with, watching as you huff in anticipation. but before you can even begin the combat, vi’s hips jump up, causing you to gasp
the controller slips and clamours loudly to the floor, your hands gripping her legs on either side of you. you watch in horror as your character gets slaughtered by the enemy, sensing the smirk displayed on vi’s face behind you
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Text
DP X DC crossover prompt
Sam and Tucker, thanks to living in Amity Park and being overshadowed and controlled by ghosts so many time, had become very liminal. Until an accident while trying to stop the newest ghost enemy led to the two of them becoming halfa’s. Sam’s ghost form looks like what she looked like during the whole Undergrowth thing. And Tucker’s ghost form looks like his King Tuck design.
After a reveal gone wrong, Danny, Sam, and Tucker flee Amity Park. The trio run away to Gotham, and using money Sam managed to snag from her account before they left, they buy a nice sized building right in the middle of Crime Alley. They decide to turn it into a bookshop and cafe. There’s a garden/greenhouse attached to the back end of the building where Sam grows all her plants and herbs. Tucker has his own tech room in the basement alongside Danny’s tiny lab space. They live together in the apartment above the bookshop/cafe.
One day while out on a walk, Danny stumbles across two tiny twin half formed baby ghost cores. They’re nothing more than tiny little balls of glowing light at the moment. Baby ghosts that are just starting to form but are nothing more than cores at the moment. But they seem to be slowly fading. Danny refuses to let them fade away into nothing. He scoops them up, infuses them with some of his ectoplasm to get them going, and then shoved them into his chest for safe keeping and so that they can be close to his own core which starts slowly feeding them energy.
Danny rushes back to the shop and drags Sam and Tucker to the upstairs apartment and shows him the baby ghost cores he’s found. The three all agree that they’re going to help these cores develop into actual ghosts. They switch off on who carry’s the ghost cores around. Some days it’s Danny. Some days it’s Tucker. And some days it’s Sam. Each of them feeding the cores a little bit of their ectoplasm to help them grow.
One of the cores feels distinctly female and has a purplish blue glow to it. The three start jokingly calling her violet. The other core has a distinctly male feel to it. It’s an orangish red and has a small crack along one side of it. Danny jokingly said one time how he (the baby core) kind of looked like Nemo’s egg at the beginning of Finding Nemo and ever since they’ve been calling him Nemo.
The two cores have been developing very slowly, both seemingly unable to absorb the needed ectoplasm, to form into full ghosts, quickly. The trio is fine with this, they can be patient, and wait to meet their twins.
Then one day there’s some kind of massive ghost attack. Maybe a cult or something attempted to summon the ghost king but messed up the summoning and accidentally summoned something else. The Justice League try and fight the thing, but they’re no match for this ghost monstrosity. And the JLD aren’t available to help for whatever reason. The trio decides to step in and help. They kick the crap out of the ghost pretty easily and send it back to the ghost zone. Then Danny, in his King Phantom garb (crown of fire, whispy white fire like hair, a regal looking version of his hazmat suit, the ring of rage on one finger, and a cape around his shoulders, the outside being pure white but the inside looking like the vastness of space) approaches the cult and rebukes them, telling them how even if they had managed to summon him he never would have helped them take over the world.
After that the trio become members of the Justice League. Thanks to some of Danny’s previous time travel shenanigans, and Danny being the ghost king, and Sam and Tucker his consorts/mates(?) the Justice League all think that the trio are ancient eldritch ghost gods.
And then one day when the trio are in the Watch Tower with the rest of the League their twin baby ghost cores come up. Maybe it was time to switch out who was carrying them, and mid meeting or lunch or whatever, Danny just reaches into his chest, pulls out two small glowing orbs. He cradles them close to his chest for a moment, looking at them lovingly, and whispering something soft to them in ghost speak. Then hands them over to Sam, who does the whole cradle them close and whisper softly in ghost speak before shoving them right into her chest.
They look up from this to see the whole League staring at them wide eyed and confused. Danny just casually explains that those are their children but they’re still forming so the trio needs to keep them close to their cores to help them grow, but they like to switch up everyday who carry’s them. Every member of the Justice League becomes super protective of the trio after this. They see it as the three essentially being pregnant (sort of), and they don’t always know which one of them is carrying the baby ghost. So best to just be protective of all three. The trio finds this kind of amusing and a touch bit sweet.
When the twin baby cores finally develop into actual baby ghosts, the two kind of look like a mixture between Danny, Sam, and Tucker’s ghost forms. Though Violet has dark purple hair and eyes and Nemo has bright orangish red hair and eyes.
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elsfairy · 7 months
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Violet having a major thing with eye contact, no matter what the occasion is. you’re being a brat and refusing to look at her, and muttering under your breath? then she’s crouching in front of the couch you’re sat on, fingers tightly but not hard enough to hurt you, gripping your jaw, making you look at her. “speak up and look at me when you talk to me yeah, baby?” or when you’re giving her a sharp, snarky attitude at a party she had taken you too? she’s dragging you away from the fun with a scowl on her face. “how about you look at me when you wanna give me your bratty attitude? oh what? can’t say anything stupid now that i’m right here, giving you attention, baby?” better yet when you’re talking about something that’s exciting, and you’re in a rush to get it all out, and Violet so ever gently cups your face with a smile on her own. “look at me and tell me again, you know i like it when you look at me when you’re talking about something you love” or simply when you’re riding her strap, hands groping and squeezing her tits, your head is titled back and she can never stop herself from taking your chin between her fingers, her own soft pants driving you crazy and her voice all rough. “fuck— look at me. fuckin’ look at me when i fuck you, baby. wanna see every part of your face when you cum. feel good pretty girl? yeah, i bet you do, you always did go stupid on my cock”
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nolovelingers · 8 months
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hi omg i loved ur hcs for ethan landry as ur bf <333 do you think you could write something like that, but for tate langdon, please?
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TATE LANGDON AS YOUR BOYFRIEND ⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧
ೄྀ࿐ requested ! ˊˎ-
headcanons — // cw ! : dark themes ,, obsessive tendencies,, nsfw !! similar to ethans i try to keep these as realistic as my silly little mind is able to think !! very toxic relationship 🌀 talk of self harm & smoking
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 SFW !!
TATE LANGDON AS YOUR BOYFRIEND . . . is like meeting someone who’s not like anyone you’ve ever met. there are no duplicates, copies or a person even remotely similar to the dark eyed boy.
there’s always been something about his odd personality that has a strange charm to it. he’s always held himself up to his own standards and even back before the entire westfield high situation he’s been very picky about his living style and the people he surrounds himself with.
so therefore when he met you, the stilled silence to his violent tornado, it was as if everything else in the world dimmed and the spotlight shone to you.
he would never leave you alone. not when you move rooms, not if you try to have people over, not when you stormed into the backyard and sat under the flickering moon as you desperately grasped for alone time. not even when you go to the bathroom.
the second he came into your life and you allowed him to, privacy no longer existed. the only time he would ever leave was if he had his own emergency to partake to or if your guardian(s) were around.
at first it was cute, you couldn’t really deny the fact that having a boyfriend so attached to the hip and dependent made your heart flutter in some sort of way. but you quickly learned that even as dreamy as it sounds it’s not all that great.
if you run to the bathroom and lock yourself inside the langdon boy is fast to follow suite, confused on where or what you were running from until he watched you shut the restroom door and he slid his back against it; knees brought up to his chest as he patiently waited for you to come back out. and trust me, he will wait. doesn’t matter if it’s hours or even half of the day. he won’t move an inch.
you hardly invite friends over but the few times you do you’re fast to regret it. you tell him your friends coming over, hoping he’ll take the hint to leave, and he’ll only blankly stare at you; face devoid of any emotion as he mutters a gentle ‘oh’ before returning to looking through your collections of whatever it is you have an abundance of. maybe books, cd’s, vinyls, comics, posters, crystals/rocks, stuffed animals, funky socks or a hoard of animal bones; there’s nothing in your room tate hasnt gotten his hands on.
even after you alert him of the approaching company unless you plan on shoving him out or repeatedly asking him to leave he doesn’t plan on going anywhere. he’s terrible at reading social cues and you have to spell out the simplest things for him.
he’s quick to judge your friends, not one of them is good enough for you in his mind and he’ll be sure to voice that. sometimes even straight to their face; with a blank expression and no emotion behind his eyes. it doesn’t matter how close or how long you’ve known someone, could even be your whole life, they’re not good for you like he is.
he often says the most terrible and disgusting things about them to your face, judging you heavily for the people you hang around and making you feel insecure.
he is definitely the type to drive wedges in between all of your relationships. just with your friends at first but as the relationship furthers he begins to do the same to your family too.
obviously he can’t leave the house but if there was ever a time you ranted about someone you dislike, hurt your feelings or overall anything spoken poorly about them he would remember it till halloween and carefully map out their murder. i mean, you wanted them to die right? why else would you tell him about it?
tate is extremely oblivious to your emotions. he loves you so much and it’s clear to him you must be meant for each other. so no matter how you feel back, reciprocated or not tate would assume you liked him too. he refuses to be in the friend zone and throws a hissy fit if you ever even try.
as we all known he’s one of the prettiest criers out there and this is very useful when it comes to manipulating. he knows you have a weak spot for seeing his tears and now anytime you try to lecture him, kick him out or he feels as though you’re not understanding his (rather malicious) side of the story the tears are quick to fall. but the tricky thing here is that they are always real tears of sadness and regret; it’s just as though he’s reprogrammed himself to cry at any minor inconvenience.
his favorite cuddle position is spooning and he often likes to be the little spoon. no one in his life has ever cared for him enough (or at least in his eyes they haven’t), and when you have your arms securely around him, pulling him into you; it’s like heaven on earth. he feels so safe, warm and comforted. there are of course days where the rolls switch but there’s really no denying he prefers to be the one being spooned.
id definitely say he’s a sort of pathological liar and even when he doesn’t mean for it to happen lies fall from his mouth as easy as tears stream from his eyes. it could be about the stupidest shit or it could be actually serious as he tries to work his way out of a situation he’s actually at fault for.
this makes it really hard to trust him, because it’s eerily scary how easy it is for him to lie straight to your face with even blinking, or come up with excuses on the spot. i know people like to claim they’re usually good at picking up when people are lying to them but with tate it’s a huge challenge. he’s unnaturally good at it and doesn’t hesitate.
it’s not easy to pick up on his fibs in the moment but there are a few times you’re able to realize later on; as his stories don’t add up or he forgot his lie in the first place and comes up with a completely different one when asked the same question from before.
and even then once he gets caught; deny deny deny. you’re the one in the wrong for accusing him of something like that when he just has a poor memory and suddenly you’re the bad guy for pointing fingers even though you’re the one with evidence and he just throws out empty accusations.
if you smoke i think he’d love to break into your stash a lot, he didn’t use weed before his death but once you introduce him i see him as a sort of mini-stoner. he’ll use your stuff without even asking. he kind of contradicts himself in that way because for the most part when he was still living he thought people who smoked or drank were stupid, ruining their body. he looked down on them. when you’re dead though you cant really destroy your body and though he still doesn’t like drinking he’ll indulge in smoking.
if you do any sort of after school activity or club he’ll encourage you to quit, telling you how it’s all stupid and a waste of time that you could be spending together. if you refuse he’ll try to sabotage it for you the best he can while being confined to the house. maybe sending a nasty email to your teacher/coach or by ruining a uniform or equipment you use.
there’s definitely times when he’s asked you to drop out of highschool to which you immediately declined and there’s not really much else he could do about this nuisance.
langdon will put you onto his likes and interests, music or movies he has a taste for. he’ll try the stuff you like as well but he’s quick to judge and doesn’t do second thoughts or tries. if he doesn’t like it he won’t even pretend to and will harsh out negative reviews before you turn it off. and then he’ll act confused on why you suddenly stopped it but he’s very glad you did. he couldn’t stand it.
and because of this when you’re hanging out it’s all about what tate wants to do. the music he wants to play. the things he wants to talk about and the films he wants to watch.
jealousy is a major problem for him and the mention of really anyone, but especially if it’s a guy, will have his blood pumping and his head spinning.
to him, he only has you. it should be the same way around, he absolutely hates that you have and know other people that aren’t just him.
tw? — if you ever try to leave him he goes all out and puts on the most dramatic show you’ve literally ever seen. throwing himself against walls, screaming and crying his eyes out, burying his head in his knees and clutching at his hair while begging and pleading for you to stay. he doesn’t get angry at all but turns more pathetic and desperate as he clings onto you. lots of “ill do better”, “you can’t leave me”, “tell me what I did wrong” and “you’re all I have”’s leaving his lips. if this doesn’t work he’ll harm himself in front of you, smashing his head against the wall or even using a sharp tool to cut into his arm while only asking one thing. “is this what you want?”
tw? — it’s a very draining relationship and can impact your mental space a lot. if you self harm he will catch you eventually, whether it’s while in the act or the scars/scabs from after. he’ll grab your arm (not assuming that’s where you sh, just so he has a grip on you), asking you how you could be so selfish (which is his way of caring) and then asking you to cut him instead anytime you wanted to hurt yourself. this is obviously off putting and drives a wedge between you for a while, which he will trap you back by guilting you and apologizing. (even though he was completely serious when asking and still is.)
the blonde haired boy lives for your validation. he’s constantly asking for reassurance and pestering you with loads of questions. whether if it’s if you like his outfit to if you still had feelings for him or not.
he’s a huge listener than he is a talker and could sit for hours, happily criss crossed and a toothless and content smile on his face while you go on about every little detail of your day.
he’s definitely asked you to do his eyeliner before but would rather die (again) than have anything else applied to his skin. it would cripple his masculinity.
overall he’s very touchy, craving for any contact he can get with you. resting his head on your shoulder, holding hands, his hand on your thigh or pinkies intwined. he always has to be touching you in some way.
recommending books and songs are one of his all time favorite things to do and he does expect you to read or listen to all of his suggestions. he’ll ask you about it a few days later after initially suggesting it and will get upset if you still haven’t looked into it.
tate hardly gets angry, he’s very sensitive as we all know and most of the time it ends in his hysterical sobs; but when the fire inside him lights it’s terrifying.
if you weren’t the one to make him angry you’d usually be okay, he’d rant about it to you while you played with his hair; describing all of the horrendous ways he wanted to see the person or thing he’s mad at crash and burn. if he’s angry at you it’s like he moves on his own, putting you in a chokehold and slamming you against the wall, yelling and pointing fingers at you. pushing items off your desks/dressers/shelf’s and you make him go away; scared of him hurting you. he wouldn’t, not intentionally, but it was a very scary sight to see.
of course within hours he’d return, tears streaming down his face and begging on his knees for your forgiveness, arms latched around your legs as he sobbed into them and refused to let go until you forgave him.
as much as he loves you and wants you to be together forever, he would never purposefully go to the extent of killing you in the house so you could stay with him forever at the age you are. it sucks, he knows it sucks, but he does have a boundary set for that. he doesn’t want you stuck there for the rest of your life. he’s just hoping you’ll stay in that house with him willingly anyway. he’d let you go after crying his heart out for days, but he’d never let you forget him or move on. and being honest; he would probably start to regret the decision.
his love for you goes beyond words, it consumes him completely. he knows now his purpose. the day he died in that house and the years that passed waiting up to the day he met you.
he was made for loving you, in his own sick way. you are his entire heart.
NSFW !!
tate is a switch in the bedroom, but he’s so easy to dominate which makes him lead towards being more submissive. of course he’ll be in his dominant moods, there’s no doubt, but it’s laughable how easy it is to take control back over him.
he loves to overstimulate you, fucking you or relentlessly giving you head for hours, not giving you rest inbetween as you beg for him to stop through shattered moans.
(if you’re a female) — we all know about his mommy issues and he definitely incorporates that into the bedroom in some ways.
(if you’re a female) — he’s a tits man rather than ass and anytime you’re going at it your shirt has to be off, he doesn’t care what size breasts you have all he wants is to attach his mouth around your nipples and tease them with his tongue, sucking lightly before leaving hickeys all over them.
(if you’re a female) — he has the best fuck me eyes the worlds ever seen and when he’s bottoming he can’t stop himself from calling you ‘mama’.
he’s very kinky, and he has put on the infamous leather suit before to fuck you. it makes him feel more powerful, like he’s in control.
when he’s topping he’ll have one hand pinning one of your arms above your hand while using his other to interlace your fingers, crying into your neck with all the pleasure he’s feeling.
he’s not the greatest on cleaning up afterwords but he always snuggles you, cuddling up to you in a ball and resting his head soundly on your chest as his breathing slows and he drifts off.
but the most important thing to know — tate is godly at sex. he doesn’t have the most experience in the world but he definitely wasn’t a virgin by the time you met and he knows what he’s doing.
˚ ༘♡ ⋆。˚ a/n : thank you sm for requesting , made my day !! i hope that this is to your liking, i appreciate the compliment ab my ethan headcanon i tried my best <33. my inbox is open to all !!
started 08.06.23. finished 08.07.23.
©️nolovelingers 2023
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vampyjester · 3 months
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It’s hard to fight off these crazy rumors nowadays…
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an-idyllic-novelist · 2 months
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Husk with Violet Evergarden!reader scenario
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warnings: aged-up!reader [early to late twenties], spoilers for episode 4 to the season finale, mentions of physical abuse and attempted drugging, violence, Husk's language, dismemberment, mentions of cannibalism.
Hey guys, and welcome to another Hazbin Hotel fics, this time featuring our grumpy bartender and one of my favorite characters, Husk! :) This is a collaborated project with not just @isuckatwritingsobenice, but also with @vikkirosko, @witch-of-the-writing-desk, and @riddle-simp, who gave me honest feedback on the rough drafts and how to make it the best fic I could create before sharing it with the world.
If you would like to see more of Husk x Violet, please do let me know know in the comments section or as an ask! Like always, bullying is not tolerated here so if there is any implication of it happening here, this scenario will be taken down immediately. If you have nothing nice to say, do not say it at all.
With that being said, sit back, relax, and let's see who will win the full house at the card tables tonight :)
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Husk isn’t gonna deny it. It ain’t like him to deny the truth when it’s staring at him right in the fucking face. He thinks you are a little bit of an oddball. You don’t smile, you wear the same outfit every day, and you don’t eat much either unless Niffty practically drags you to the staff’s dining room from wherever she found you hiding. Normally, it’s one of two places: out in the backyard, or the greenhouse, because you’re the hotel’s groundskeeper. And that was on your days off.
 Like Angel, you worked for an overlord, but your boss wasn’t that shitbag Valentino or Vox or Velvette. Your boss is Rosie, the owner of Rosie’s Emporium in the Cannibal Colony. You were her personal secretary. You had been on her payroll for over ten years, working from nine to five unless you had to stay later. She did not seem to mind you staying at the hotel so long as it did not affect her reputation or your work ethic in any way. 
So far you’ve kept your word. Alastor actually seemed to be happy that you were around. 
Maybe. Husk couldn’t fucking tell what that son of a bitch is thinking anymore. But back to you. 
You, who believed in Charlie’s work.
You, who participated in each activity and helped around without getting paid for your time.
You, the expressionless ex-military soldier, has been on his mind recently and he did not like it. 
He lost the ability to feel anything years ago. 
Nonetheless he continued to observe you from afar. When you weren’t busy with watering plants, you were seen in different parts around the hotel with the others. 
You would sit with the princess in the parlor, comparing ideas on what tomorrow’s group exercise should be, even when the only two ideas you’ve suggested were shot down immediately by Charlie. She didn’t like the idea of group bonding through hand-to-hand combat but loved the concept of showing appreciation to one another through handwritten letters. Vaggie approved the former. The latter? Not so much. 
In the kitchen you would go through the cookbook with Niffty and Alastor, trying to decide on tonight’s dinner.  They allowed you to help out, at least when it didn’t involve cracking eggs. Apparently you were not very good at separating the yolk. 
When Sir Pentious was away from the hotel doing God knows what, he trusted you to look after the Egg Bois until he got back. You kept them busy around the greenhouse though they tended to make a bit of a mess. 
Angel started to work extra late at the studio after his show and tell presentation. Something about making a big commercial and Val wanted to make big bucks on this new product that the Vees were launching in a week. You must have noticed that something was off about him, but you didn’t say anything to him. No words of encouragement, no comforting hand on his shoulder. All you did was clench your gloved hands into fists, watching him leave and…unsure of yourself. What you should do. 
Husk heard you asking Niffty what were some of the kid’s favorite foods about that time, and she was more than happy to help you with whatever it was you needed as long as you left the kitchen sparkling when you were done. You were concerned about the kid. Least from what he could remember. He drank a lot that day. 
When he woke up much later after falling asleep at the bar, hearing your footsteps descend down the grand staircase and towards the kitchen. Groggily, probably stupidly on his part, Husk thought it would be a great idea to know what the fuck you were up to so early in the morning. Turns out you were trying to cook something, judging from how you looked at the ratty cookbook propped up on the counter and the wide array of ingredients spread out. 
He saw you cook  finely chopped onions, garlic, and minced ground meat in the large frying pan on the left side of the stove. You stirred something in a smaller sauce pan on the right side with a wooden spoon. He saw you handle all of the ingredients with great care, placing them in a baking dish  even when you weren’t wearing your leather gloves. A small shudder crawled down his spine at how the kitchen lights bounced off of the adamantium skeletal prosthetics that acted as your hands. 
He didn’t even wanna know how exactly you lost them in the Great War. 
Everything was soon laid out, layer by layer and placed in the oven. He didn’t know he stood there for so long, even when you began to clean up the kitchen with a rag. Time ticked by slowly, and then a delicious aroma tickled his nose even as he took another swing of the half-filled booze bottle he was holding. He was about to leave you alone, knowing you’d be fine when he saw you pull out the dish with your hands and no oven mittens on, you fucking moron! Then his mind remembered something that stopped him from making an entrance. You couldn’t feel anything with your prosthetics, not even as you placed it on the stove top to let it sit. 
A couple of hours later - maybe he can’t keep track of time anymore so it might have been the following morning - he saw you giving Angel a large paper bag every morning before both of you left the hotel, and telling him to have a good day. 
Angel grudgingly thanked you later on that evening when he got back…though did say your garlic bread needed some work. The next day, he gave you a paper bag, telling you to taste real Italian grub and try to replicate it. 
Guess it became a game between the two of you, ‘cause Angel was slowly being someone real and not some fake  whiny bitch. 
As odd as you are….you cared about everyone in your own way, even when the words that came out of your mouth angered someone or made them cry, you tried. You never asked for help unless it was necessary, trying to learn everything on your own. And you were smart, Husk will give you that. 
And he…he doesn’t know if he had the heart to tell you that redemption might not be possible. Unlike him, you still carried a spark of hope. You believe in the princess. He doesn’t want to be the one to see you reach your breaking point, to be dragged into a swamp of despair and get drowned in all sorts of addictions to cope with the pain. He was…anxious. No. He was scared for you. He wanted to help you but he was afraid that by intervening, he would just make matters worse.
It was better to just stick to the sidelines with a bottle of booze and watch everything happen like the bartender Alastor wanted him to be, right? Well, turns out he was wrong. 
One night after he made Angel a drink and called him out on his bullshit for being fake, the whiny little bitch stormed out of the hotel. Vaggie tried to make him go out and bring him out, but Charlie intervened. All she asked him was to make sure that Angel was okay. Do not force him to come back if he isn't ready. Obviously judging from the distraught look on her face, something happened between the princess and Angel. 
Husk did not know what or why, and he really did not want to play the role of a goddamned babysitter. Not when it was actually a slow evening and he didn’t have to hear these fucks bitch and moan for hours on end. But Vaggie’s glare, knowing Alastor would force him to do it because he fucking can and not knowing what would happen if he actually violated the terms of their contract, he left the hotel. The first place he went to were the streets. No luck. And no one had seen him. When he moved his search to the bars, he spotted Angel going inside one of them. 
Long story short, he was going to hang back and just keep an eye on Angel getting drunk off his ass with some shady sharks in a corner booth until he saw one of them pour something into Angel’s drink. He took care of the fucker, got Angel out, and listened to him. Angel Dust was not just an act. It’s who he needs to be. Drinking and getting high is his escape. He wants to be damaged so that he won’t be Val’s favorite toy anymore. 
Then when it seemed like they came to an understanding with a song, those bastards opened fire on the streets, targeting him and wanting Angel to come back to have some ‘fun’. Yeah, fuck no. 
That was when he heard car tires screeching against the asphalt, doors opening and closing with more shouting. Husk gritted his teeth. “Shit.” He turned to Angel. “Stay down. I’ll take care of this.” He pulled out his cards, ready to hop onto the roof of the pink Volkswagen they were hiding when he heard a  shnk, a high pitched squeal, then a gurgle. 
THUD.
Shnk.
THUD.
C-crack.
THUD.
“Who the fuck is this bitch?! Kill her, kill her you stupid asshats!” 
“Holy shit, toots?! The fuck - why is she here?!” Angel cried. Husk raised his brow, craning his head as far as he could without being in range of a bullet to see what was going on. There were only two people Angel called toots and he was pretty damned sure they were back at the hotel, safe and sound. Not one of them blitzing across the street, dodging bullets and slicing enemies down with a hunter’s knife in one hand, a large carpet bag in the other. 
He blinked. Nope. He was sober. Shit. He thought as you weaved between the shitheads, disarming, decapitating, and snapping their necks in no particular order. You weren’t exaggerating when you said you were a weapon for the army.  When he saw a flash of movement from the smaller grunt, twirling a knife and aiming it for your head as you pumped lead into his friend, Husk made his move. Hopping onto top of the car and threw his cards. One cleanly sliced the asshole’s neck. 
He quickly made through the growing crowd, running towards you as he threw some dice into a hammerhead’s mouth. But when he turned his back towards them, he felt something light and strong coil around his neck, cutting off his air supply. 
Fuck. Garroting wire! Husk flailed around  scratching, kicking,  and trying to get loose but the fucker was too damned strong. Black spots began to appear in the corner of his eyes when he felt a white hot stinging pain graze his left cheek, then something warm and sticky with a metallic scent. Blood.
The body behind him dropped, and so did he, yanking the wire off  him and inhaling deep gulps of  precious oxygen. Husk looked up and saw Angel with a shit-eating grin and a Tommy Gun in his upper hands. 
“Eat lead, sucker!” The porn star cackled, firing several more bullets into the corpse and his buddies that were closing in on them. Angel grinned at him, extending a hand to help him up.”I told ya. I can handle myself, baby.” Husk felt a grin stretching his own face as the fella pulled out more weapons with more arms. Well….not something he was expecting. 
Between the three of them, they made quick work with the rest of the gang and their reinforcements. Like him and Angel, you were covered in grime and blood but you were all right. 
“Are you two all right?” You asked as you wiped off the blood from your knife with a handkerchief, the carpet bag by your feet and in pristine condition. “No limbs missing that weren’t missing before you arrived?” 
“Yeah, we’re good.” Angel said, putting away his guns and extra limbs. “More importantly, why the fuck are you out here instead of the hotel?!” He interrogated, his voice lowering an octave as he glared at you, stomping towards you. Before Husk could stop him, Angel grabbed  your cheeks with his hands and pinched them. “You know these streets are dangerous, toots! How many times do Vags and I gotta tell ya?! Come straight home when you’re done with work!” Then he blinked, his face turning white, his eyes widening in horror. “Toots,” He said slowly. “Y-you ain’t hooking up with anyone around here, are ya?!” He yelled, now pulling your cheeks outwards as if you were a cartoon character. 
You didn’t flinch from the cheek pinching or pulling; instead, you looked at him in slightly confusion. “I don’t understand. What does fishing have anything to do with this except that these men were quite literally loan sharks standing outside a nautical-themed bar?” You asked. 
“Toots.” Angel said warningly. “If you don’t give me a straight answer, I swear to fucking God I am going to yeet you off a rooftop.”
“ ‘Yeet’?” You repeated.
“[First Name], just tell us why you’re here.” Husk said, already feeling a headache coming on and in need of a drink. You turned your attention to him, then back at Angel before you spoke.
“Rosie sent me out on a last-minute errand to get fertilizer for her plants. But by the time I got there, the shop was already closed. I was on my way home when I heard the gunshots, and saw the two of you being pinned down. I was not going to leave my comrades behind when I could help them. So I did. And now,” You looked over at the bodies strewn across the street. “I have what I need. Two birds with one stone, as Rosie says.”
“Ya mean ‘kill two birds with one stone’, toots?”
“Yes.”
“So, by fertilizer, ya mean these schmucks that we just totally obliterated.”
“Yes.”
“Food for plants.”
“Carnivorous plants. And if the fertilizer is fresh, the better it is for them. Rosie loves her plants very much.” You said, pulling away from Angel and grabbed the carpet bag off of the ground, walking towards the nearest body. “If you do not want to be here, I suggest you leave quickly.” You knelt down, laying the bag down and opened it, laying out assorted tools. Bone saws, knives, a large roll of plastic wrap, etc. “Rosie says I have gotten much quicker at dismemberment.” You carefully peeled off your gloves, replacing them with gray surgical ones. 
Husk glanced at Angel, eyebrow raised. It seemed like they were thinking the same thing because the latter spoke up with a toothy grin. 
“Baby, I was a mobster long before I was a porn star. ‘Sides, hacking up a body all by yourself is gonna take you all night. Better to have more hands to get the job neater an’ faster, am I right Whiskers?” 
Husk smirked. “Can’t argue with that, Legs. Guess you’re stuck with us until this job is done. You got another bone saw in that bag of yours?” He asked with a grin, somehow…happy to actually be doing this. Who would have thought a new friendship started with cleaning up bodies?
You stared at them for a moment, obviously stunned because you must have thought they’d leave you here alone, before you pulled out two more bone saws and more rubber gloves. Your instructions were simple enough: the severed pieces couldn't be any bigger than your body, and they needed to be wrapped up tightly in the plastic wrapping or else you’d have to pay a hefty cleaning bill to get the blood out of the bottom of the bag. Angel’s extra limbs came in handy for the latter task. Between the three of them, they made quick work with the dead loan sharks and everything was loaded inside the carpet bag, and no one was the wiser. This was Hell, after all. Cannibalism, gun fights, and dismemberment was commonplace in these parts. 
You thanked him and Angel profusely, bowing your head to them before you shyly asked if they would be interested in getting a bite to eat. To Angel’s knowledge, the closest place that is still open late at night is Devil’s Diner, which is half a  block from Jackpot, the casino Husk had owned from his glory days as an overlord. The food wasn’t too bad there, and cheap too. 
Now that he thought about it, Husk had worked up more of an appetite after the fight and so did Angel. Better to do that than trying to cook something and waking up Niffty. So, the three of you went to Devil’s Diner. Of course, you tried to just have a cup of coffee, but neither he nor Angel were having it. Conditioning your body to minimize nutrients to complete a mission, his ass. 
Both he and Angel persuaded you to try the day’s special with some water plus dessert. Whatever you couldn’t finish, get a to-go box. Husk himself ordered a sandwich with chips. Angel got pancakes, sausage, strawberries, and a strong drink because he fucking deserved it. 
Conversation started slow at first, but as the orders were placed and drinks were served by their waiter, words were exchanged, and stories were shared. Angel revealed he had a little brother and more family down here, though he rarely talked to them anymore after getting into the show biz. Husk confessed that he used to be a magician in Las Vegas, showing off a trick with his cards. 
They shared a good laugh over Val’s shitty eyesight. It shouldn’t take thirty minutes to count three bills, but it fucking did for the moth man.
You told them that you were once commissioned to help a playwright finish his newest script after being on a hiatus for many years, but he had been a difficult man to work with because he had no interest in doing anything else except drinking his days away. You had actually acted out a scene on the lake where the hero would journey home to be reunited with her father after vanquishing a monster. That was when you began to understand how grief affects people in different ways…and how your actions affected the people you had killed on the battlefield. People who had families and had one-day wishes that would never be fulfilled because they died by your hand. You are here in Hell because you are, you were, a weapon to be used in war. Reconnecting with people, with your emotions…it’s a lot harder than you thought it would be. 
“That’s what being human is all about.” Husk said. “Ya make mistakes, ya regret the choices ya wish ya would have made, or should’ve made, and ya need to live with it.” He knew that better than anyone. 
“The old timer’s got a point but look at how far you’ve come!” Angel exclaimed, spreading his arms out as he began listing all the good things you have done and accomplished since you came to the hotel, though you still needed to learn how to bake real Italian bread, not just heat up the cheap frozen ones in the oven. Husk silently agreed with him, taking another swing of his whiskey. In the end, you got a to-go box, but Angel said he could take it back with him to the hotel. You still needed to deliver the body parts to your cannibal superior and Husk said he’d go with you. But you insisted that you would be fine on your own, and that he and Angel should get some rest. 
“Rosie will not let me stay long in the emporium with how late it already is. She’s very particular about keeping the lights on after business hours.” You said, the corners of your mouth tugging downwards into a frown as your gaze fell upon his wings. “Husk…you were twitching a little and I heard your spine crack earlier, and your voice sounded a little raspy. I do not know what the cause of your ailments beyond the scuffle with those loan sharks could be because I am not a doctor…but it would be better if you and Angel took it easy for the rest of the night.” 
Keep in mind that Husk had once been an overlord. Yes, he’s been out of the game for a while, he won’t deny it. But he was not going to admit that you might be right.  “There’s nothin’ to worry about, I’ll be fine. If I can handle a fight, taking you where you need to go will be a walk in the park.” He grumbled, ignoring Angel’s snickering. 
He watched you raise your hand, fingers outstretched towards one of his wings, and then you pulled it away to clench your hand into a loose fist. Husk saw your hesitancy isn’t because you were disgusted at the sight of them, or his appearance. Hell, you had more bloodstains on your clothes than him and Angel combined. No. You were hesitating because you were afraid that your touch might hurt him, or make the pain he was feeling worse. 
Husk grinned as he grabbed your wrist, pulling it forward and carefully coiling the gloved fingers around the outer part of the left wing near his forearm to give it a squeeze. “See?” He flexed the muscles. “I’m fine. You ain’t got nothin’ to worry about.” It took him a second to realize how impulsive his actions were, seeing how your eyes widened and hearing Angel release a low, teasing whistle, muttering “Kinky~!” under his breath. Great. The kid wasn’t going to let this go, not even after a few drinks. Shit. Fuck. 
He tried to ignore the warmth flooding his face as he kept his gaze on you until you nodded your head, removing your hand from his wing. You were convinced that he was more than fine to accompany you back to Cannibal Colony, at least for the moment. You turned to Angel. “Are you going to be okay, heading back to the hotel on your own?”
Angel smiled toothily. “Toots, you should know me by now. Sex isn’t the only thing I’m good at.” He winked, holding up the to-go boxes as he turned on his heel, waving his extra hands over his shoulder. “See ya back at the bar! Ya still owe me a drink, Husker~!” Now that he left the diner, it was time for the two of you to make your exit. 
You walked down the steps and looked at him. “Ready?”
Husk nodded. “Yeah.” He then held out his paw to you. “Let’s get going.” You nodded, placing your hand in the center of his own, covering the golden-heart shaped paw  before he scooped you up in his arms, one claw under your legs and the other around your shoulders. You stared at him.
“What-”
“Hang on tight.” Husk did not give you a chance to respond, unfurling his wings to their full length before putting all of his weight on his back leg, catapulting the two of you into the crimson skies of the Pride Ring. Walking was fine and all, but as you mentioned, it was already pretty late. Why waste more time when he could fly there? 
So here you were, held like a princess with one arm wrapped around the carpet bag and your hand placed on his shoulder. But instead of screaming your head off or pleading with him to land somewhere, your attention was elsewhere. You were captivated with the multi-colored pin pricks of light down below,  your mouth partly open and [Eye Color] irises widened by a fraction. It was obvious that you hadn’t seen Hell from above. Or maybe you hadn’t traveled by air before. Either way, seeing such an expression on your face, one that wasn’t calm or expressionless like a doll who lived by someone else’s order.
You looked like a living, breathing human who had her own thoughts and could find beauty in the most bizarre of places. 
It almost made Husk consider extending this flight for a little longer until he realized he’d have to explain to you in great detail as to why he did decide to do it. So he brushed it off, and followed your instructions to your destination. 
Twenty minutes later, the two of you arrived at the stone steps leading up to the glass double doors of Rosie’s Emporium. The dimly lit streets were mostly empty, the bars were still open and echoed with raucous laughter and jazz. It was tempting to slip inside there for a drink, but Husk wasn’t too keen on being around cannibalistic drunks. Alcoholic he might be, he wasn’t that stupid. And he didn’t want you to get in trouble with the overlord who ran this place. She was your boss, not his. 
He watched you put a hand into your coat pocket and pulled out a small golden key. You put it in the dead bolt, twisting it to the left before pushing the door open. “Miss Rosie?” You called out, stepping inside the darkened establishment. “Miss Rosie, it is me. I am back.” 
A moment of silence enveloped the place, but only briefly because soon a tall, thin woman in a burgundy dress with an oversized hat and feathers materialized in front of you. She was at least two or three heads taller than you, smiling down with rows of sharp, gray teeth and pitch black orbs. “Oh there you are, I was startin’ to really get worried! Did John give you everything for my precious little sprouts?”
You quickly explained what had happened, how you could not see John because he had closed the shop by the time you got there but the fertilizer you collected from a gun fight you got into and came out victorious should be more than enough. Rosie was all but delighted, twirling in a small circle as she cooed.
“Ohh, I knew it was a good idea to hire you from the moment you came for the interview! I wish I could’ve seen you at work, using that bone saw and hacking away at corpses, but there’s always another day~! You know how many people come in wishing to have their husbands or wives ripped from limb to limb, at least the ones that taste bad! Ah?” She stopped dancing, craning her long neck to stare at him. “Who’s this you brought with you, [First Name]?” She looked over her shoulder, wagging a finger at you with a raised brow. “Come now, I know I said I wanted you to find a good fella someday, but this one’s way too scruffy for you and you’re much too young for him! Oh, I’m just kidding, I know you’re dedicated to your job! Well? Introduce us!”
You did, introducing him to the overlord as Husk and the hotel’s bartender. Alastor must have told her about him because she immediately called him ‘Alastor’s kitty cat’ and ‘how he used to be such a sophisticated-looking fella until he gambled against Alastor’. She laughed. “Well, small world, after all! [First Name], be a dear and take that bag into the back, will you? I’ll feed the little monsters myself, and you can go home! Oh, did you want some pinky fingers to go? I’ve got plenty of them and you probably didn’t eat dinner again, am I right?”
“Understood. And no thank you, though I will take up on the offer to try one of those roasted legs next time.” Husk almost gagged at your monotone words and Rosie’s cackle, but he had to keep his composure. As far as he knew, you were not a cannibal. And if you were…well, you probably wouldn’t have gone out of your way to help him and Angel, or at least order something from the Cannibal’s Section at the diner instead of force feeding yourself on the daily special. 
You might have only been gone for a few minutes, but it was awkward to stand near Rosie, the way she smiled at him like she was thinking about adding him to her menu for not dressing up in a vintage outfit. At least he hoped not. He could barely contain his relieved sigh when you appeared again, hands empty with no bag in sight. 
“It’s done.”
“Wonderful~! Now, you march up to bed as soon as you get in the door young lady! No staying up late!” She said, following the two of you to the door. “Give my regards to Alastor and tell that man he must come back soon! These halls have lost their sparkle without his lively presence! Oh! Before I forget~!” She snapped her fingers, and in a puff of dark red smoke, a large wad of bills materialized in your hands. “Here’s your paycheck! I know it’s a little early but I have a very important task for you to do tomorrow!” She grinned. “Go to town and buy yourself some new clothes for work!”
You faltered. “But -”
“Tomorrow is your day off I know, and I really, really love your enthusiasm when you try to come in to help around, but a proper lady of society cannot live on just one dress and a pair of boots! Oh, and you will also need to get a Hellphone in case something like this happens again! No ifs, ands, or buts! If Alastor throws a fit about it, I’ll talk to him! Now, shoo! Husker, be a dear and get my darling worker back to that hotel safely, all right?” She added with a wink.
Husk grunted exasperatedly but did not say a word. The last thing he wanted to do was go pissing off an overlord who just happened to be the Boss’ friend. So he just nodded, and followed you out of the door. When it shut behind them with a click, things got…awkward. Now that you weren’t carrying around a bag full of body parts, there was no need to fly all the way back to the hotel. Or at least that he thought you were thinking. 
But he told you that he didn’t mind, since Charlie was probably already worried about the two of you even if Angel had somehow managed to persuade her otherwise. So…you agreed, albeit hesitantly. Husk didn't waste any more time. He scooped you up in his arms and took off into the night skies, though with this being the Pride Ring, there was really no way to tell if it was day or night anymore. Cannibal Colony soon became another darkened spot, getting smaller and smaller until it disappeared from sight. 
As soon as the two of you made it back to the hotel, Husk had no doubt everyone would be giving him shit. Angel would make comments on his little ‘date’ went, which he’ll deny in every possible way, and the princess might be cryin’ from anxiety or relief knowing that two of you were all right. But that was then. This is now. And…he’s come to like holding you in his arms. 
“Husk?”
“Yeah?” He felt the arms around his neck tighten slightly…but not that it wasn’t too uncomfortable. It felt…okay. Like you were trying to say something, but you struggled to find the right words to say without sounding like an ass. 
“Thank you…for everything.”
His lips stretched into a grin. "You're welcome." 
He felt the cold of your palms, it would seem, through the gloves, but it was not so important. Because as the two of you flew back to the place you called home, he saw you smiling down at the Pentagram in wonder, whispering the places you had visited and or wondered what they were or if he knew anything about them, to which he either answered yes or no. It was such a small smile, but how could he not commit not it to his memory? 
And maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t be so bad to get a drink with you on a night around town. Or make one for you at his bar. He knew how to make a good non-alcoholic pina colada, even an alcoholic version of it. But who knows? He’ll take things one step at a time, and see what happens. 
What Husk did not realize at the time, not too far in the distant future, you would be the one to close the gap between them…and there would be something more between the two of you. Something that made his days in Hell just a little brighter. 
Taglist: @riddle-simp @kanroji-san @star-fawn21 @luthefriendlywitch @kameyo-kumo @solesurvivorjen @solandis-does-stuff @ladydoe8 @victheauthor @anielly-2010 @dilucragnvindr-my-beloved @bones4thecats @mmelionsblog @frompeach @nixie-writes @tired-of-life-86 @trecllllllll @lanxianschoenheit @22carolina08 @justamegafan @the-cat-queen-peasants @oucx @diamondzoey @alyriaschoenheit @lbcreations-blog @alastorsart @nunezs-stuff @sillypenguincats @theunknowntravel3r @imperfectbloodmoon @no1sillybilly @likesugarandcyanide @bladeismine @bones4thecats
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ask-zerotrio · 2 months
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Happy New Year
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sunricecake · 2 years
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kiss a girl in black
tattoo artist!vi x bimbo!reader
synopsis — what was supposed to be a fun memory of your first tattoo session with your lover turned out to be unforgettable for all the wrong reasons.
cw : dubcon, malpractice, sexual tension, cheating
a/n : FOOD IS HEREE
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excitement pumped through your veins as you took one last look at yourself in the mirror — a bow adorning your hair, gloss perfectly coating your lips, and a low cut pastel pink shirt that would allow little to no difficulties for the tattoo artist to work with. you were supposed to be getting a tattoo on your collarbone after all.
you headed for the door, a slight bounce on your walk from the giddy feeling that you were gonna be having a matching tattoo with your longtime lover, finally something that would show the world you belong to each other. a vibration snapped you out of your trance, and you fished your hand down your heart bag to get your phone, bundle keychain and charms jangling.
a message popped up on your screen, killing all the excitement you had once felt. your shoulders deflated as you read the words of your lover's text.
they had, unfortunately, dipped last minute for some reason, saying their car broke down and they had to get it fixed or something. they told you to get ahead, they'll follow once they got their car towed.
convincing yourself to get your skin permanently marked by something was one thing, but now you had to brave through the dark alleyways by yourself to get that matching tattoo. it was scary, but you did it for them.
you went your way, worrying your lip between your teeth the whole ride. you badly wished they were here beside you, squeezing your hand in theirs and comforting you. 
as you got down the cab, you grimaced at the smoke that greeted you. this tattoo parlor really was in the shadiest part of town. everything felt intimidating — the narrow alleys, the flickering lights every 5 meters or so, the eerie sounds coming from around you. you wanted to turn back, so close to dashing out of there and hailing for the first car that passed. but then you saw it.
the neon lights standing out in the loomy area that read 'the last blade'. relief washed over you, and your tense shoulders slightly relaxed as you hurried into the salon. 
a man in a white muscle top layered under green overalls greeted you. his arms were covered with intricate designs, ones that were hard to peel your eyes from, had he not repeated his question a tad bit louder.
“d'you have an appointment?” he raised a brow, head slightly tilting to the left. 
“yes!” you bursted out nervously, shoving the picture of the schedule your partner arranged into the man's face.
“woah easy there,“ the man looked at you expectantly, peering behind you before further scrunching his brows in query. “it says the appointment was for two.”
“about that, my partner won't be able to make it in time. they'll follow later.” you explained, fiddling with the trinkets attached to your phone, unaware of the other person who stepped in the room.
“alright, let's get started then.” a voice in the back of the room called out to you. you turned around, lips parting in a soft gasp as you looked at the pink haired tattooist (whose name tag read vi) in front of you, black ink trailing from her toned biceps all the way up to her neck, peeking from under the black tank top she wore. 
butterflies erupted in your stomach as you followed her to a cubicle, eyes unable to stop wandering over her profile, as if imprinting the way her back muscles moved as she walked into your brain. you shook your head in a poor attempt to rid yourself of distractions, opting to check your phone again for any notifications. 
no new messages.
seemed like you were really gonna have to do this alone, with no hope of them coming anytime. you sighed, wondering which was making you feel queasier — the fact that they ditched you last minute for your first ever tattoo appointment, or the fact that you were gonna have your skin marked by a hot 5 foot something artist, who you just couldn't seem to take your eyes off. whatever it was, you were sure this session was not gonna be something you'd forget. 
“are you sure?” she asked as she was now facing you. the whole walk to the small room completely past you by til you found yourself in front of a leather chair, with vi's eyes going up and down your form before meeting yours and awaiting your answer. “i'm warning you, it's gonna be painful.”
“wow, that's comforting,” you frowned at her, knees getting weaker by the second st the thought of needle penetrating your skin.
“'m just being honest,” vi replied as she raised her arms in defense, causing a bit of her top to ride up and expose just a sliver of the toned abs that lie beneath. you sucked your teeth, the reaction pleasing the tattooist who raised a brow in amusement.
realising what you'd just done, you looked to the side and blurted whatever coherent thought came to your mind, anything to hide the sudden bashfulness you feel. “is that really what you should be saying to someone who's doing this for the first time.”
“your first time, huh?” the mood drastically changed with that one line, vi's words sending excitement through your veins. she huffed. you were such a pretty little thing, a sight for sore eyes indeed — what with your manicured nails and pink everything, eyes that twinkled every time you bat your lashes, and god your outfit, that damned low cut blouse you donned and the miniskirt that ended just a bit below your hips. plus, there didn't seem to be a single thought running through your head. you probably didn't even know the effect you had on her. and it frustrated vi that you could get her this worked up without doing anything.
“i warned you,” her low voice cut through the silence, making you stare dumbly at her due to the unexpected remark. you shifted your weight on your feet.
“get on the chair.” 
her words felt weird, the commanding tone mixed with her gruff nature sending chills down your spine as you sat, the leather squeaking against the parts of your thighs exposed by your mini skirt as you made yourself comfortable. 
as vi prepared the equipment, you remained quiet and waited for what she would say next, hanging on to her words like a puppy. you don't know why, you were just inclined to. the pink haired tattooist could feel your stare the whole time, the burn of your gaze nearly setting her aflame. she knew you were interested in her, even a blind man could see that, so she decided to play with fire for a little.
her next instruction had you gaping at her with eyes wide open. “take off your shirt.”
“oh, is the cut not low enough? here, i can pull it down—”
“come on, sweetheart. haven't got all day.” she continued, completely ignoring your suggestion. you figured you would end up getting strained holding your shirt the whole time anyway. slowly, you put a hand on your sides, pulling the fabric over your head and placing it on the armrest. the cold air hitting your skin made you cover your chest, bottom lip finding its place between your teeth as you kept your gaze low, too shy to meet vi's stone grey ones. 
“hands on the side, cupcake.” not even a stutter. you figured she was probably used to this, as it was part of her job, so you convinced yourself this all meant nothing. 
her gaze darkens as her eyes rake over your almost nude upper body, intense gaze lingering on the pink lace lingerie cupping your tits, spending more time than what was appropriate on your cleavage. you didn't think anything of it though — she had to so she could map out where exactly to put your tattoo, right?
“are you sure about this?” she asked while stepping closer to you, alcohol swab in hand. 
your answer was cut short to a yelp as she started rubbing the area below your collarbone, the slow circular motions of her fingers causing your thighs to squeeze shut, an action that makes vi smirk. “getting a matching tattoo with an asshole? do you really think that's a good idea, princess?”
“hey! they're not an ass—”
your mind was spinning — everything about vi, the clearness of her voice from being inches away from you, the shift of her brows now and then, the strong scent of her cologne taking over your senses, and the petnames, the godforsaken petnames, were all sending delicious ecstacy to flood your veins, making you want more, need more. 
“oh yeah? leaving a princess like you all by yourself to go to places like this?” her hands ceased cleaning the patch of skin and pulled away, your body leaning forward slightly, already missing her touch. “who knows what kind of people might take advantage of you.” 
acrylic nails dug into the leather cushion, tongue swiping over your glossed lips before the words came out of your mouth without much of a second thought.
“please.” feeble hands came up to a desperate grip on her top.
“please what?” she leaned even closer, arms coming to the sides of the chair to cage you, ashy eyes seeming to glow in contrast to the shadows on her face from the dim overhead light. no effort was made to close the gap, as though the two of you were frozen in place, faces a mere hair’s breadth away and eyes pouring with words you couldn’t say out loud, but hoped to reached the other. vi moved one hand to rest beside your head, gaze falling momentarily on your parted lips.
the gravity of the situation sunk in. this was wrong. 
snapping out of it, you leaned back against the chair when you became aware of the inappropriate proximity, the tight hold you had on her shirt relaxing til your hands moved to your sides to shield yourself from her gaze. and the cold, of course.
“fine.” you averted your eyes, attempting your hardest to brush off whatever the hell just happened. “'m not getting it anymore.”
“that's a good girl.” vi stood to full height, her composure intact, unlike yours that was a band waiting to snap.
“i'll talk it out with them again.” you stuttered, unable to maintain eye contact with the tattooist, feeling as though her eyes could see through your mind and read all your thoughts.
she headed out, with you tailing her shortly after fixing yourself and gathering your things (and taking a few deep breaths too for safe measure), the clacking of your heels being the only noise as the two of you made your way to  the front.
“besides, i don't think i was actually ready.” you confessed in hopes of alleviating some of the awkwardness you felt.
“good,” vi faced you unexpectedly, catching you off guard as you tried to add space between the two of you in the cramped hallway, afraid she’d be able to feel the heat radiating from your skin. “woulda been a real shame to taint that skin of yours.”
you nodded eagerly in agreement, that same weird feeling stirring in you. there was a moment’s pause, serving as a chance to take in each other one last time, before she kept going. the lobby was empty by then, the glass windows on the front reflecting the neon lights that lit the now darkened streets.
“hey cupcake,” vi spoke up for the last time, earning your attention and making you turn around midstep, hand resting on the door handle. she held out a piece of paper, nunbers scribbled on it similar to the way her name had been on the pin above her chest.
“call me if you change your mind.”
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i have plans that i have no self control to keep to myself, and i don't care if the haters will sabotage me
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writtenfangirl · 10 months
Text
Dancing
A short one this time! I just wanted to write a really fluffy piece without drama although, yes there is a very small conflict if you squint hard enough. I wanted to write another fic that made me feel good just cause life's been extra hard lately.
Although I have a ton of ideas for this one so a sequel if people really enjoy this. I briefly wondered making Y/N be Lady Whistledown and pairing her up with my favorite Bridgerton brother to see what would happen.
TW: People being mean. Gossiping mamas. Cressida Cowper mention.
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The ball, as most balls tended to be as the night waned, had grown stale and boring. The dancing had ceased despite the wonderful string quartet that played their music and people had broken off to their own parties. As the guests become accustomed to the taste of alcohol, words began to flow with reckless abandon. 
“Did you hear? Viscount Dotsfield has a bastard with a scullery maid!”
“The Earl of Blackfield is said to engage in… relationships with Sir Lockling.”
“There are rumors going around that one of the Colton daughters has a French paramour whose name is Ravilli. An ambassador of sorts…”
Gossip is what fueled the ton, the very lifeblood that had men and women of varying ages coming to these balls in the first place. No one in the ton wanted to be caught unaware and one could never be too careful of the rumors that could be fabricated about you. According to Y/N’s mama, the only people who didn’t come to balls and to the gatherings hosted by members of the ton were those of them whose reputations were in ruins. You were either gossiping or you were the one being gossiped about. 
So she came and endured even if she was bored out of her mind. 
It wasn’t anything she wasn’t use to anyway. She was a woman and women were seen and not heard. Not only that, but she was a wallflower. Wallflowers were hardly seen at all.
“Lady Y/L/N.”
She knew that familiar voice, smooth and deep yet somehow still bright. If sunsets could speak, Y/N imagined they would have his voice.
“Mister Bridgerton,” Y/N said as she spun around, hiding her smile behind her bejeweled fan. “I half expected you to have taken your leave by now.”
“Under usual circumstances, I might have. But I have yet to dance with the most beautiful girl in the room.” Benedict said with a crooked smile. “And my mother has always told me that dancing is one of men’s greatest assets to encourage affection.”
“There’s hardly anyone dancing,” Y/N said bashfully.
“All the better reason to do so.”
Y/N wasn’t naive. She knew Benedict was only speaking to her because his mother asked him too. She’d always rather liked Lady Bridgerton and she had a penchant for forcing her sons to dance with the wallflowers. At every ball Y/N attends, her dance card, though usually empty, always had three names: Anthony Bridgerton. Benedict Bridgerton. Colin Bridgerton. 
And there was no man who made he heart beat faster than Benedict Bridgerton himself. Because it was Benedict who offered to fill up all of the other spaces in her dance cards even though he didn’t have to.
All the Bridgerton brothers were kind to her but Benedict was more than that. Anthony and Colin were polite but Benedict laughed with her and conversation flowed between them like water from a fountain. And though she knew Benedict was unlikely to return her feelings, she occasionally let her delusions run wild. She often spent her days imagining what their future would look like. Would their children have his eyes or hers? Their hair would probably be different too. And their noses—
“Y/N?”
Blast! What a bloody idiot! She shouldn’t have let her mind wander like that! And now Benedict was looking at her expectantly with those luminous blue eyes and she couldn’t focus her mind to remember what it is he’d asked of her.
“Yes?” She asked, fighting to stop herself from sounding so breathy.
“Excellent,” Benedict grinned with an outstretched hand. 
The dance. She’d forgotten about the dance!
She briefly wondered if she could find a way out of it. Getting on that dance floor would shift everyone’s focus on to them and she already knew what people would say. 
“The Bridgerton charity case.”
“Of all of the young ladies, he chose her?”
“He deserves better.”
She glanced around nervously. Everyone else was too engrossed in their own conversations to pay them any heed but those conversations would instantly stop the moment she and Benedict stepped on the dance floor alone. 
And she knew that if she were to reject Benedict’s advances, her mother would kill her. Though Anthony was but a Viscount, his fortune was considerable large. His father before him had managed their estate well and Anthony was known to make cunning investments that grew their already large fortune, a fortune that would also provide cushy lives for the rest of his brothers. Perhaps not the large estate of a Duke but certainly nothing to scoff at. And Y/N didn’t doubt for one second that the rest of the Bridgerton brothers weren’t as smart as Anthony was when it came to their finances. 
It’s why Y/N had constantly heard her mother’s say, “you will marry a Duke or a Bridgerton. Anything less is unacceptable.”
Luckily for Y/N, her mother wasn’t around to see her reject Benedict. 
Still, with the way Benedict looked at her, it was hard to say no. 
“Just one dance,” Y/N ceded with a sigh, slipping her gloved hand onto his. 
His smile widened considerably. “You mustn’t be nervous.”
“Easy for you to say,” Y/N huffed. “You look perfect everywhere you go.”
“Oh?”
Damn. Damn damn damn. Damn the world. Damn herself. And damn Benedict Bridgerton. 
“You think I look perfect?” He asked, cocking a brow in question. 
“U-uh, I m-mean, that is to say, I don’t—“
“You truly must calm your nerves, my lady,” Benedict said with a chuckle as he pulled her to her feet and led her to the dance floor. “I am only teasing.” 
Y/N could hear the stream of gossip stop as members of the ton watched them. There was a pregnant pause and then the chatter began once again. She couldn’t hear the full conversations but she heard enough. 
“…fat…”
“…ugly…undeserving…”
“…he is too kind…”
It made Y/N want to curl up into a ball so that the earth may open up and swallow her whole. 
“Pay them no heed,” Benedict muttered as he pulled her close, his hand resting on the small of her back as his other hand found hers. “Focus only on us. And tonight, you look beautiful.”
“Only tonight?” Y/N joked in a bid to ease the coil of tension tightening around her core. 
“Every night.” Benedict’s tone was too serious to be called teasing. 
Soon the new music started, washing away the ton’s horrible words. She could still feel their watchful eyes on her skin, felt the way they judged her. 
“Focus on me,” Benedict muttered before he began their dance by swaying them back and fort.
She let the music fill her, weaving through the muscles in her body. Their dance was a complicated one and though she wasn’t an accomplished dancer by any sense of the word, with Benedict leading it was hard to fail. 
In and out, push and pull, with complicated lifts and turns yet somehow always finding their way back to each other. It was as if their bodies were magnetized, attracted only to the other. As the music swelled, she forgot all about the gossiping ton and their prying eyes. Instead she only felt Benedict’s body heat, the hard chords of muscles hidden beneath his jacket, his hands steady around her waist. 
His gaze on her felt soft, like staring at the afterglow of of dusk. She was never much of a drinker but Benedict always had the ability to make her feel drunk, as though each of her inhibitions left her the moment his luminous blue eyes landed on her. 
When the last notes of the song echoed between them and Y/N and Benedict detached from each other to curtsy and bow at one another, the entire ballroom erupted into applause. 
A soft gasp left Y/N’s lips. She’d completely forgotten about the ton watching them with Benedict commanding all of her attention. 
She raised her head, meeting Benedict’s eyes once more. 
“You were marvelous,” Benedict muttered with a grin as he took her hand and placed a chaste kiss against it before leading her out of dance floor. The ton’s eyes had grown less hostile and more appreciative on and, for the first time in a long time, Y/N felt exhilarated. 
“I would like to call on you tomorrow, Ms. Y/L/N.” Benedict said, letting his voice be carried throughout the ballroom. His words brought on another wave of whispers. “If you would let me?”
Y/N was absolutely sure she would be the center of gossip tomorrow. Perhaps until the end of the season if Benedict’s intentions are what she thought them to be. 
To call on her would mean Benedict would like to get to know her better, to suss out if she would make a good wife or not. And with him a Bridgerton and her a lowly Y/L/N, they would make waves with the ton. She could practically feel Cressida Cowper glaring daggers at her back.
But she didn’t care about that right now. She was still riding the high of their beautiful dance. She was no great beauty, that much was true. But with Benedict, she felt beautiful. And his opinion mattered to her more than the Queen’s and the whole ton’s combined.
“Of course you may call on me, Mr. Bridgerton,” she said graciously, ignoring her fast beating heart. “I’ll have the cook prepare that raspberry marmalade you enjoy so much.”
Benedict grinned. “I am much obliged. I shall see you tomorrow. I hope you have a good evening.” He took her hand again, placing another gentle kiss on her knuckles before he straightened and walked away.
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Text
Five Senses of Love
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Anthony Bridgerton x Fem!Reader 
Warnings: pining from Anthony and reader, Daphne and Benedict unintentionally (intentionally) being the biggest instigators, the most fluff I've ever written.
Word Count: 3.4k
Author’s Note: To the anon that said my bridgerton phase would land me here, this one’s for you. // also this was a random middle of the night idea that I thought would be cute so just go with it?? idk if it even makes any sense to tell you the truth 
----- 
Sight
The sun shining down on Aubrey Hall, the sound of laughter filling his ears as he stepped out of the study. Hyacinth and Gregory chasing one another through the front foyer. Their mother shouted after them, “please! Stop running!” 
Anthony smiled as he walked down the staircase, down to reach his mother. “How is it that they always seem to have energy in the morning?” She asks him, linking her arm with his. 
“That is a question no one has the answer to.” The pair starts to head out of the front doors when a carriage begins pulling up. “Are we expecting a guest?” Anthony asks his mother, the two of them watching the footmen open the carriage door, helping a woman step out. 
“Lady Bridgerton!” you smile at the woman, her expression matching yours. 
“Darling! So good of you to join us.” Violet lets go of her son, walking towards you and pulling you in for a hug. 
Anthony watches the exchange between his mother and the woman. You seemed familiar but he couldn't quite place where from. Judging by the way you were being held by his mother, you had to be a close relation to the Bridgertons. 
“Anthony, surely you must remember miss y/n; Lady l/n’s daughter. She and Daphne were attached at the hip as children.” she smiled, reintroducing you to Anthony. 
“Yes, of course.” he extends his hand, you set yours in his before taking a small curtsy. “It is nice to see you, Lord Bridgerton.” you give the man a small smile. 
“And you, miss y/n.” he lets go of your hand.
Anthony does remember you and Daphne as children. Granted, he didn’t remember much, he did remember the shared whispers and giggles from the two of you, arms linked as you skipped down the halls of their home in the ton. Your mother, Lady l/n, was good friends with his mother so you were around quite a bit.
You weren't exactly someone Anthony paid much attention to back then; he was distracted by his viscount duties, as he is now but with the desire to marry now and you reappearing in their lives, it seems you were now the focus of all his attention. 
You had grown into a beautiful young lady, mannered and kind, a sweet heart and clearly educated. Anthony was intrigued and who was he to say no to his own interests?
“Y/n will be staying with us until her parents return from overseas. It would be unwise to leave a young lady unaccompanied in such a big house. It shall be a grand few weeks, isn't that right?” Violet links arms with you, walking towards the steps with you. 
You nod, “it always is. They’ll be returning after my sister has her baby.” you tell her. 
“You must tell me about your travels, how is your sister settling in ?” she holds you to a conversation, Anthony watches as you walk into Aubrey Hall with the older woman. 
You glance back at the viscount once more, your smile makes his heart skip a beat. 
Lord Bridgerton has got himself in for a fascinating few weeks. 
---
Sound
It’s too early, far too early for there to be any sort of noise. The corridors of Aubrey Hall should be quiet for at least another few hours or so he thought. 
Anthony rolls over, pulling the pillow off his head only to find the curtains drawn back and the sunlight pouring into the room. He groans as he sits up, pulling himself out of the bed. The window in his room had been cracked open by whoever had opened the blinds. 
There's a faint giggle, he's unsure as to where it’s coming from but it’s the sweetest sound he’s ever heard. The sound stops and he takes a breath, walking towards the window when the giggling starts again. 
Anthony pushes the window open further, scanning the yard to find the source of the sound because surely it was not coming from inside. 
The giggling comes to an abrupt stop once again and his heart sinks momentarily. He pinpoints you and Gregory in the yard, the two of you chasing each other around, running in circles with Auggie sitting in the middle of the grass. 
Anthony watches from the window as you pick up the little boy around, smiling at him when you tickle his side as the boy squirms in your arms. “Gregory, perhaps we should head in to get ready to break fast?” 
"I believe that mother is getting ready, shall I take Auggie in?” he asks, playing with the little boy’s hand. “I’ll bring him in a few moments, go on.” you smiled at the boy, watching as he ran off towards the door. 
Auggie leans his head on your shoulder, you press a gentle kiss to his forehead as you pace the yard a few more times, rocking him gently and humming a lullaby to him. 
Twinkle, twinkle, little star
How I wonder what you are
Up above the world so high
Like a diamond in the sky
Twinkle, twinkle, little star
How I wonder what you are
Anthony watched from the window, smiling at the sight below. He'd be lying if he said it didn’t make his heart flutter. 
“Going for a morning stroll, miss y/n?” Anthony calls from the window, startling you. Your hand pressed to your chest, letting out a breath. “My lord, you scared me.” You call out to him. 
“Forgive me, that was not my intention.” He smiles at you, leaning on the ledge of the window and you can’t help but stare at his bare chest. You look away when your eyes meet his gaze, blushing at the fact that he caught you. 
“No apology is necessary, my lord. It is I that should be apologizing, I hope I did not wake up. Auggie was fussing and I thought it would be nice to let Daphne and Simon sleep in.” 
“And Gregory? He too was fussing?” Anthony teases, eyes trialing from your face down to the nightgown you had on, the top for your chest barely sticking out over the white fabric. 
He was a gentleman and it's improper to be looking at you in such a manner. 
He couldn’t help himself, you were beautiful and everything about you pulled him to you; your smile, your kind heart, your love for your family and his, your voice and especially, your laugh. 
The same giggle slipped past your lips, the man smiling at the sound that makes his heart flutter again. 
“Gregory was already awake, he and Auggie were already together when I found them. The fresh air would do us all some good.” 
“It worked.” he nods towards you and you turn to see the little boy asleep in your arms. “Perhaps you could hand him over to his mother and join us to break fast ?” 
“Yes, of course.” You smiled, giving him a curt nod before walking towards the steps of Aubrey Hall. Anthony watched until you disappeared around the corner. 
---
Smell 
The man across the table smiled at you, his eyes shifting between you and the man who sat at the head of the table. “That’s rather sweet, would you not say so?” Benedict nudged Daphne before she followed his gaze. 
“Yes, quite sweet.” She hums with a smile. Your brows furrow, looking over at the siblings. “May I ask what you two find so sweet?” 
“It seems you and the viscount are matching.” Benedict says before taking a sip of his wine. 
“Matching ?” Anthony asks his brother, looking towards you momentarily. The obvious similarity in colour was too much to deny and yet; “we are not matching, if you think so, it is purely coincidental.” he says. 
You hum, looking at Anthony. “The viscount is right, we do not match.” 
Benedict turns in his seat, looking at his young sister. “I am not crazy, am I Daph ? They are matching, it is obvious.” 
“Y/n, why don’t you stand next to Anthony? Perhaps we’ll have a better grasp on the colour.” she glances at Benedict, there's a wicked glint in her eyes but you push the sudden urge to ask why away. 
“If you insist.” you say, “I do.” she replies. 
Anthony has said nothing, sitting there while he watches the usual dinner time madness unfold. His eyes are glued to you as you get up, shifting the few steps to now stand beside him, your hand brushing away the few wrinkles from the skirt. 
“I do think they are quite similar. Anthony, could you stand ?” Anthony rolls his eyes, “brother, is this truly necessary ? We are in the middle of dinner if you are unaware.” 
“If I cannot differ two colours, how could I truly call myself an artist, brother?” 
Anthony sighs, downing the rest of the wine in his glass before setting it down and standing. You were a few inches away from Anthony when Benedict leans over to Daphne, whispering something to her as the pair share a laugh and she nods. Benedict motions for the two of you to step closer together with his hands and you both hesitantly take a step towards one another.
Benedict’s eyes study the two articles of clothing; a navy blue dress with silver threading and embroidery and a navy blue vest with hints of silver along the buttons. 
Anthony takes that moment to look towards you; your eyes glued to Benedict, your hair framing the edges of your face, your chest rising and falling with each breath - breathe Anthony breathe. 
He takes a breath, the overwhelming scent of honey and rose washing over him. There’s the smallest hint of a smile playing on his lips, his eyes flutter shut for the slightest of seconds to enjoy the smell. 
“I concur! They are identical!” Benedict declares, his eyes on his eldest brother. There's a smirk on the second Bridgerton, he seemed to be the only one that noticed the way the viscount acted around you. 
“If you say so, Mr. Bridgerton” you hum, pulling Anthony out of his trance. He clears his throat, “can we return to dinner?” 
“Of course; did you hear what we are having for dessert ?” Benedict says casually, gaze shifting between you and Anthony. 
“What is it?” 
“Honey loaf.” Benedict smiles, knowing that’s exactly what Anthony was thinking about moments ago. 
Once again, Benedict is the only one that notices how Anthony slyly looks towards you. “I know we are all aware of your fondness for the sweetness.” and this time, it is you that looks in the direction of the viscount. 
--- 
Touch 
You were speaking to Daphne about the upcoming ball Violet would be hosting when Colin steps out of his room. “Sister, miss y/n.” he nods, smiling at you both before joining in on your conversation. 
“Colin,” you call before he turns to face you, your hands reaching to fix the lapels of his jacket. Colin reaches behind, pulling the pin from your hair. It wasn't until you felt your hair unravel and lay across your back that you registered what happened. 
Colin takes off running down the hallway. You stand there for a moment, debating if you should chase after him before you go running after him. 
“Be careful!” Daphne shouts, giggling between words. 
Since the two of you were children, you were close to her siblings; they regarded you as if you were their sibling as well, you were around just as much as the rest of them were. 
She admired the way you just fit in with them, teasing her brothers as if they were your own or how you were always there to lend a helping hand when necessary. You weren't one to shy away from getting your hands dirty, even if it wasn't considered appropriate.
Daphne watched as you chased Colin around the hallway, looping back around the staircase which Colin ran down, straight passed Anthony who you ended up colliding with when you ran down the stairs. 
Your hand pressed to his chest to soften the impact, his hand resting on your lower back.”My lord, forgive me. I did not see you there.” you look up at the man, your chest practically pressed to his. 
Anthony gives you a small smile. “No need to apologize. Can I ask why you are running?” 
“Colin stole my hair pin. I was simply trying to get it back.” 
Anthony hums, his hand still resting upon your back. His eyes study your face, admiring how your hair laid across your back; it was rare that he ever got to see your hair like that. 
Now that he’s thinking about it, he's never seen your hair down. Instinctively, Anthony reaches to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear and his hand rests against your cheek, cupping it as his thumbs brushed against the soft skin. 
Colin is behind the two of you, he had come back in after he realized you weren’t chasing him. 
“Brother,” Anthony calls, “give miss y/n her hair pin.” His eyes were on you, the two of you seemed to forget that the outside world existed at that moment. 
Colin huffs, handing the pin back to you and you smile at him. “Thank you, Colin.” he hums, eyeing you and Anthony. His hand is still cupping your cheek with your own pressed to his chest. Colin’s brows pull together at the sight, a slight smirk playing on his lips as he walks off. 
“Might I go fix my hair ?” you whisper, looking back up at Anthony. 
He blinks a few times, taking a step back before clearing his throat. “Of course.” 
You smile at the man before turning towards the stairs, heading up to meet Daphne at the top and link arms with her as the two of you giggle off in the direction of your room but not before you get one more glance at the viscount. 
---- 
Taste 
The ball was well underway, Aubrey Hall filled with the families of the ton and as much as you loved seeing everyone, you were feeling a bit restless. A bit of fresh air would do you good, you thought to yourself as you slipped out the doors and into the yard. 
The orchestra can be heard well into the garden as all the windows are opened. You take a seat on the bench facing the hedges, letting out a heavy sigh before smoothing the skirt of your dress. 
The sound of footsteps coming from behind you causes you to turn, coming face to face with Anthony. “I hope I am not disturbing you.” he says quietly, stopping a few feet away from you. 
“Would you like to join me, my lord?” you ask him, shifting to the other end of the bench, making space for him. 
Anthony walks over, taking a seat beside you. “May I ask why you are out here alone?” 
“I needed a bit of air, that’s all. It’s quite stifling in there.” you hum,  eyes directed at your lap as you fiddled with a bead on your dress. Anthony noticed the sadness on your face, it was clear that an evening filled with happy families wasn't what you needed at this moment. 
“Missing your family ?” he asks and you nod. “I received a letter from my mother this morning, my sister has had her baby; a boy. Coincidentally she has named him Anthony.” you look at the man beside you, a smile appears on his lips. 
“Is that so? I shall have to join you when you visit.” he says, looking over at you. “To meet my name sake.” he nudges you, a playful smile on his face. 
You nod, sighing as you stared off into the distance. “What’s gotten you so down?” he asks you, shifting on the bench so he’s now facing you. 
“It’s nothing, my lord-” he reaches for your hand, “please, call me Anthony. You’ve known me long enough.” 
“You call me miss y/n” 
“Because it is the proper term.” “And my lord is the proper term.” You hum, smiling at him. 
Anthony chuckles, rolling his eyes. “You’re quite stubborn; you are aware, yes?” 
“So I've been told.” 
Anthony smiles, his hand resting on yours as the two of you stare at each other. He stands, hand held out in front of you. “May I have this dance, y/n?” he drops the title in front, earning him a smile that made his heart flutter for what felt like the millionth time over the last few weeks.
“You may, Anthony.” you stand, resting your hand in his. Anthony pulls you close to him, his free hand resting on your upper back as he spins you around. He stops for a moment, leaning to hoist you up. “Anthony!” you laughed, your hands resting on his shoulders. 
You look down at the man and this was the first time you really noticed how handsome the viscount was. Surely, you knew he was an attractive man seeing that all the mamas of the ton want him for their daughters but in the moonlight, you could truly see his beauty. 
The way his cheeks dimpled when he smiled, how his eyes crinkled from the joy or how truly brown his eyes were. 
He was about to set you back down but instead, he took a moment to admire you. Your hair framing your face or how your cheeks grew red whenever he was around you, how you slyly looked away when he looked at you. 
Anthony knew he loved you. He knew it from the moment he saw you step off that carriage. You carried this aura that couldn't be put into words by the greatest scholar. 
He set you back down, the two of you standing with your hands on his shoulders and his on your back. “Do you know how improper it would be if someone were to see us like this ? We would have to be married.” you whispered to him. 
“Perhaps we should give them something to talk about, it would ensure our union.” he teases, his brown eyes meeting yours. 
You can feel your cheeks heating up and he could most definitely see how red they were. “My lord, we cannot-” “Why not?” he interrupts you before continuing. “I am a viscount, they dare not say anything to me.” 
“Not to you, but I will be ruined. Unable to marry.” 
“Did you truly think I would leave you as such ? I would- I will marry you, y/n.”
“I cannot ask that of you.” 
“You did not. I am asking you,” Anthony’s hand reaches for yours as he takes a step back. The viscount drops to a knee and it feels as if your heart dropped to your stomach. 
“Miss y/n,” he smiles, “I have always admired you- your beauty and grace, the way you find yourself perfectly in the chaos of our family. You are everything I have always dreamt of.” he reaches into his pocket, his brows furrowed before letting out a sigh. 
“It seems I have forgotten the ring but will you marry me?” he asks, your eyes teary as you laugh. 
“Of course, yes.” you smile at him through momentary tears before he stands. Anthony’s hands cup your cheeks, leaning in. “Seeing that we are to be wed, am I allowed to kiss you?” 
You’re blushing again, nodding. Anthony closes the gap between the two of you  with a short, sweet kiss. His forehead rests against yours, “you taste of strawberries.” he whispers, making you giggle. “That is what I last ate.” 
Anthony pulls you a little closer, your hand resting against his chest. “I promise I do have a ring for you.” 
“Ring or not, I’d still marry you.” 
-----
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wrtinginblood · 6 months
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Vi with a breeding kink calling you mama (or mommy) whining about how badly she wants to stuff you up :(( poor girl’s so pussy drunk just can’t think straight
nsfw ౨ৎ
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she always starts with acting all tough, dominant. but you know better, and you know soon enough she would melt into you. and you could feel her slipping.
she was on top of you, her forearms holding her up beside your head and you face down on the bed as she pushed the strap into you over and over, the both of you whiny messes— but specifically her. you can barely focus on the pleasure flooding through your veins as you listened to vi, feeling her heavy breathing against the side of your face. she moans as if she can feel how tight you are around her, feel how warm and wet you are. she swears she can
“fuck— i need…” you barely catch what she pants out, feeling her body weight lift off you. her big hands land on your lower back, giving her leverage as she resumed her relentless thrusts, getting a clear view of how her cock sinks into you and comes out with a white ring near the base. it makes her spiral a little, images of your cunt spilling with her cum plaguing her delusion little mind
you think, maybe she needs to take a second to catch her breath— that’s what she was gonna say. but you’re interrupted by a particularly harsh thrust into you, making your body jolt and a loud moan to leave your bitten lips. “need to make you a fuckin’ mommy.”
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