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ohproserpine · 3 months

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iv. dolly

see all chapters here tags: fem! reader, reader is a performer in a speakeasy, jealousy, possessiveness, alastor does not know how to interpret love, or maybe he does, in his own twisted way, roadkill used as a symbolism, gorey descriptions of love, murder the song she sings is 'roxie' from chicago

˚୨୧₊♱

"Hey!" Charlie's voice rang out as she spotted Mimzy making her way towards the hotel entrance. The blonde froze, casting a nervous glance behind her to see the demon princess rapidly approaching with a worried look that she mistook for anger.

With practiced ease, the blonde put on a fake frown, pressing her hand over her chest. "Oh, Charlie! I'm so sorry for the trouble last night, sugar! I'll pay—"

"No, no! I'm not here for that," Charlie waved her hands with a smile, seemingly oblivious to the slump of relief on Mimzy's shoulders. "Are you leaving so soon? The hotel wouldn't mind taking you in!"

Caught off guard by Charlie's unexpected offer, Mimzy grimaced. She hesitated, opening her mouth before shutting it as she struggled to find the right words. "Oh! Well…you see…"

A laughing track, sounding like it was filtered through a radio, echoed through the air, and Mimzy turned to the source to find Alastor towering over her with his signature grin.

"I don't think redemption is quite her style," Alastor's chipper voice rang out. His clawed hand reached for Mimzy’s hair, plucking a feather from her headpiece. In his hands, the pink ornament erupted into flames. "Frankly, I have my doubts she could even be redeemed at all!"

Horrified, Mimzy watched as her feather fell to the floor in ashes, her hand instinctively reaching for the charred remnants.

"Alastor," Charlie glared at him before turning her attention back to Mimzy. "We believe in redemption for everyone. It's not about what you were; it's about what you choose to be now. We'll be here to support you every step of the way."

"Thanks, sugar," Mimzy forced a smile, waving her hand around daintily. She glanced at the entrance with a subtle wish for escape, playing up the nice act while Alastor continued to watch the scene unfold with a cryptic smile. "But radio here is right. I don't really think it's my style. Different strokes for different folks. Plus, I've got a business to run!"

Alastor hummed, twirling his microphone cane around in his hand. The crimson glow of his eyes narrowed at her as he chuckled. "You couldn't possibly mean that wooden box of debauchery you call a club, right?"

"My 'wooden box of debauchery' has more character than any joint in that city," Mimzy grit her teeth together in a smile, barely concealing her frustration.

As another argument began to form, a throat clearing interrupted the flow, capturing Mimzy's attention. A pink glove slowly rose from the couch and Angel Dust pushed himself off the furniture, sitting up with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"If I may~" Angel Dust chimed in. "You saying you, ah, got a bar? I'm always up for checking out new places. Mind if I swing by sometime, tits?"

Mimzy beamed and sent Alastor a smug look, making her way toward Angel Dust. She reached into her chest, pulling out a card with a flourish. "Of course, kitten! Here's all our information. You'll find us in the Vee district. Feel free to swing by anytime. And don't forget to bring a friend!"

Angel Dust took the offered card, a grin forming on his face. "Bring a friend, huh? You got it, toots."

˚୨୧₊♱

The Vee district, designated as the entertainment hub of Pride, was dazzled with bright neon lights and tall towering buildings adorned with blazing billboards. The streets pulsed with life, where every ten steps brought you face-to-face with street performers desperately vying for attention, hoping to catch the eyes of industry scouts. The message was clear – fame was the ticket to success. Performers were everywhere, found in rundown bars, neon nightclubs, and costly theaters catering to the insatiable appetites of the elite.

Mimzy's Lounge, nestled down east on one of the city's worse-off streets was no fancy stage. The building, weathered and worn, seemed to barely hold itself together. The exterior bore the scars of years gone by, with cracked windows, peeling paint, and near-rotting wooden walls. While it may not have been on the standards of the elite, to the poor and downtrodden, it was the best piece of entertainment they could afford.

Inside, the dim lighting of the bar did little to conceal the stains and cracks that adorned the floor and ceiling. Tables and chairs, mismatched, were arranged haphazardly. The air hung heavy with the smell of cheap perfume, wrapping around the audience—a motley crew of lost souls. On the stage, a couple of scantily clad showgirls were performing a dance routine, or at least their movements vaguely resembled one. The quality of the performance didn't seem to matter to the audience, who, hungry for any form of entertainment, welcomed the spectacle with open arms.

Seated discreetly in the back booths, Angel and Cherri had drawn their curtains tight, creating a cocoon of privacy amid the bustling buzz and thumping music in the club.

"…And check this out – Alastor is hitched," Angel Dust spat out the last word as if it were poison. His face caught the warm, bright lights spilling into their booth, slipping through the small gap in the middle of the curtains. He sipped from his drink, a glint in his eyes. "And the owner here's got some serious dirt on his missus or somethin' like that."

"That why you dragged me to this hellhole? Knew it," Cherri snorted, taking a sip of her cocktail, the sweet and tangy flavors doing little to mask the less-than-pleasant ambiance. "Couldn't believe you'd even want to step into a place like this."

"You know I can't resist a bit of gossip, and where else can you find more gossip than in a joint run by a gal who's got the goods on Alastor himself?" Angel grinned, his golden tooth flashing as he reclined in his torn red chair. "Hell. I bet anyone else would do what I'm doin'. I mean, who wouldn't be tearin' these walls down just to catch a glimpse of the Radio Demon's wife?"

Cherri Bomb let out a throaty chuckle. "Well, you're bloody right there."

A sudden blast of music echoed through the air, prompting Angel Dust to scramble out of his seat and poke his head out from behind the curtain. The previous performers stepped off the stage, making way for the upcoming act. He caught sight of a familiar pudgy figure sauntering onto the stage and hastily turned his head back to the booth, meeting Cherri's amused face. "It's startin'!"

“Welcome, all you devils and darlings, to the Dollhouse Lounge!” Mimzy's voice boomed, and the lights gracefully dimmed to focus on her. The hum of conversation dwindled, the audience's attention now on the stage. “It's the moment you've all been waiting for! The last act of the night… Dolly, the living doll!"

With Mimzy's spirited introduction, the claps and cheers crackled in the air. In an instant, the lights plunged into darkness, leaving Angel to flit his gaze across the smoke-hazed stage, hungry for a glimpse of what was to come. Suddenly, a surge of stage lights sliced through the lingering smoke, akin to a celestial burst, revealing your silhouette with a large signage that spelled out your name in bold, red letters.

Wearing a lovely smile, you spread your arms wide, catching everyone's attention as you sang the first note, voice sultry and dripping sweet like honey. "The name on everybody's lips is gonna be Dolly."

"That's his wife?" Cherri gawked behind Angel, her jaw dropping in disbelief. "Are you sure we got the right girl?"

"Hell, I'm just as surprised as you are," Angel shot back, an equally dumfounded look on his face.

"The lady raking in the chips Is gonna be Dolly," your voice echoed, the melody carrying through the lounge as you strolled towards the stage's platform. The rhythmic beat of the music vibrated against the soles of your heels while the spotlight dutifully trailed after you, its gentle glow caressing the curves of your glittery dress, casting glimmers of silver and gold that danced across the dimly lit bar.

"I'm gonna be a celebrity. That means somebody everyone knows," you continued, sauntering around the stage. As you swirled and twirled, your silhouette became a blur of sequins and shimmer. The spotlight then intensified its focus on you, highlighting the glint in your eyes. "They're gonna recognize my eyes. My hair, my teeth, my boobs, my nose."

"Fuck," Angel muttered under his breath. As you moved closer to the end of the platform, he could finally get a good look at you.

Shimmery blue eyeshadow graced your lids, while a dark blush adorned the apples of your cheeks, complementing the red lipstick you had on. Your dress, a dazzling ensemble of sequins, was not only radiant but also provocatively low-cut, teasingly revealing a glimpse of your chest before gracefully dropping to your knees. Dark silk stockings, sensually tracing the contours of your legs, were held by garters. At your feet, bedazzled red Mary Janes sparkled like jewels, catching the light with every step you took.

As Angel thought back to his conversation with Mimzy, he found himself agreeing with her earlier comments. You really were a living, breathing doll.

"From just some dumb canni-bal’s wife. I'm gonna be Dolly," you continued, seamlessly weaving your magic, each lyric a spell that bound the audience. "Who says that murder's not an art?"

With a spin, you twirled around the stage, a ditzy grin on your face, the sequins on your gown catching the light like stars. "And who, in case she doesn't hang, can say she started with a bang! Dolly Heart!"

As the final notes of the song echoed through the venue, the room erupted in applause and cheers. But, the curtain wasn't falling yet. Standing backstage, Mimzy let the moment linger, reveling in the prolonged applause. After all, happy customers always tipped generously.

On cue, bills and coins descended like a storm, hitting the floor with a crisp sound that mixed beautifully with the cheers of the delighted audience. There was so much that the shower of currency formed a makeshift carpet beneath your feet.

Angel Dust, still peeking from behind the curtain, wore a smirk of approval. "Not bad, not bad at all," he whispered to Cherri, who nodded in agreement.

Standing on the stage, bathed in the lingering glow of the spotlight, you held your pose, chest heaving up and down. A demure smile graced your lips as soft, appreciative nods and fluttering eyelashes accompanied each gaze you cast toward the audience. Tonight's turnout was impressive, though not unexpected given your agreement to perform one of your most famous songs after a prolonged hiatus.

"Dolly" was a beloved crowd-pleaser and the one song you hated with a passion.

The spotlight continued to shine relentlessly in your eyes, causing a painful burn in your irises. The deafening applause felt like a relentless assault on your senses as each clap echoed loudly in your ears. From the speakers, the music blasted in waves, the volume rattling your bones. Showbusiness, a constant companion in both your living and afterlife, had become an achingly familiar yet tormenting cycle.

In the corner of your eye, you saw Mimzy step up onto the stage to address the crowd. "Thank you, my lovely devils and darlings! Wasn't Dolly simply darling tonight?" she squealed through the mic.

The crowd erupted in cheers and applause once more, the energy in the room reaching a fever pitch. Mimzy basked in the adoration, her grin widening as she soaked in the success and the money. Oh, the money.

"I know you loved that!" she laughed. She leaned into the microphone, her voice turning into a whisper "Of course, you all do. I wrote it."

"Now, let's give our star her rest. Dolly, my dear, take a bow!" Mimzy's voice rang out, signaling the end of the performance. Relieved, you bowed before making your way towards the curtains as the heavy fabrics began to descend. After blowing a few more kisses to the audience, you slipped backstage, letting the smile fade from your face. As you vanished from view behind the curtain, Angel caught the look on your face.

It was a look he knew all too well.

"She looks perfectly happy without him," Cherri remarked with a casual shrug. "I mean, look at 'er. She's the star of the show. You think she left on purpose?"

Angel furrowed his brows, deep in thought. It didn't make no sense to him.

Why would you willingly perform under Mimzy's control when Alastor, with his power, could easily get you out of here? Contract or no contract, that radio freak could tear Mimzy apart like a hot knife through butter.

The spider's attention shifted towards the audience, and his gaze locked onto Mimzy, who was engrossed in conversation with some VIPs. The sight of her triggered a scowl to etch itself onto his features.

"I don't think so. There's more to it," Angel's eyes narrowed, the wheels in his head turning, "I've seen that look before."

"What look?" Cherri raised an eyebrow.

"That trapped look," Angel said, his gaze following Mimzy as she continued her animated conversation, oblivious to the scrutiny. "Before the curtains dropped, I saw it on her."

"Shit, Angie," Cherri's gaze followed Angel's, and she pursed her lips. "You think she's playing the part or really stuck?"

Angel Dust stood up straight, now opening the curtains wide as his eyes never left Mimzy. "I don't know, but I'm gonna find out."

Both of them took their time, patiently waiting until Mimzy stepped away. Once the blonde demon finally made her way backstage, they discreetly followed her lead, slipping behind the curtains with her.

The busy backstage corridor welcomed them with an assortment of items – costumes, props, and stage decor – scattered in chaotic disarray. Angel's eyes wandered around, and he spotted Mimzy in a far corner, sitting atop worn cardboard boxes. Nudging Cherri, he gestured for both of them to move closer.

"Hey~ How's it going, blondie?" Angel purred, leaning against a nearby prop, his tone dripping with a sickly sweet tone. Mimzy looked up, confused before she recognized him and flashed a wide grin.

"Hey, you! You're that spider fella from the hotel!" She tapped her chin in thought narrowing her eyes at him. "Uhm, Angle Dust was it?"

"It's Angel Dust," he corrected, a twitch of annoyance in his eye.

"Uh-hah, that's nice," Mimzy seemed unfazed, continuing to count her money, her legs swinging back and forth absentmindedly. "You like the show? Oh, who am I kidding, of course, you did!"

Angel Dust crossed his arms with a chuckle. "Yeah, about that. That girl, Dolly. She's quite a number, ain't she?"

"Oh, yeah. She's my little masterpiece," Mimzy smirked. "Met her before she had any of this."

"Let's cut the fuckin' crap," Cherri rolled her eyes, tired of dancing around the conversation. The cyclops leaned down to Mimzy's height, scowling into her face and driving her finger into the blonde's chest. "I'll say it straight. What's the deal with her? You got some strings attached?"

Mimzy paused and glanced up at Cherri with an arched eyebrow before turning to Angel and laughing tensely. "Your friend here sure is forward, Ankle! Oh, sweethearts, Dolly's here because she wants to be."

Angel Dust shot Cherri a glance, a silent conversation passing between them. "Yeah?"

"The girl signed a contract willingly," Mimzy explained with a casual shrug. "She gets what she wants, and I get what I want. It's a fair exchange."

Angel's eyes narrowed, his skepticism evident. "Contract? What's in it for her, then? Why willingly perform in this dump when she could easily be the star anywhere else?"

The blonde sent Angel a glare for his dig at her lounge but still answered him. "Dolly owes me something. A little debt she's paying off with her charming performances. A contract might sound sinister, but it's just showbusiness, furs." Mimzy leaned back, folding her arms, her expression daring the two of them challenge her further.

"Bull. She sold you her soul to dance and sing?" Cherri scoffed, taking the challenge.

"No, no, there was no soul exchange involved," Mimzy rolled her eyes. "Just a contract. But still binding, magical, and all of that stuff."

"Now, can you two get out of my hair?" Mimzy huffed, shooing them away with a dismissive wave. "I've got a lot of things to run here!" She returned to counting her money, clearly eager to be rid of the unwanted attention.

"Let's go, Cherri," Angel said with a look of defeat, pushing himself off the prop he had been leaning on.

Once the two of them finally stepped out of the establishment, the spider groaned to himself, now finding himself with more questions than answers.

˚୨୧₊♱

You strolled behind the weighty curtains, the backstage area buzzing with the rush of staff, the shouts of managers, and the lingering presence of performers idly awaiting their cues. Navigating through the organized chaos, you directed your steps towards your private dressing room—a sanctuary away from the glaring spotlight.

You threw the door open, entering quickly and slamming it shut behind you, the sudden silence a stark contrast to the clamor and racket outside. Flicking a light switch, the dim glow of a single, flickering bulb hanging from the ceiling revealed the room's worn-out glamour. A vanity cluttered with makeup, costumes haphazardly thrown on a worn-out sofa, and a cracked mirror that had seen better days—all were familiar sights.

"I would kill for a glass of whiskey," you murmured to yourself, the weariness of the performance settling in. Rolling your head and groaning as you heard a satisfying crack, you added, "or maybe a whole bottle of it."

Kicking off your heels, you let the cool floor cradle your skin, leaving the discarded shoes in a dusty corner to rest. Seated at the vanity, the chaotic world beyond the backstage curtains ceased to exist. The gentle glow of the vanity lights exposed the weariness in your eyes as you wiped away your mascara and dusted off the remnants of glitter from your skin. While removing your earrings, the shimmer of your wedding ring caught your eye.

A frown tugged at your lips, the subtle ache of longing surfacing.

You missed your husband.

With a sigh, you continued removing your earrings before tossing them onto your vanity. Seeking to ease the edge, you reached for a whiskey bottle on a nearby dresser, grabbing a glass and pouring yourself a drink. The golden liquid glimmered in the subdued light as you took a sip, the warmth of the alcohol coursing through you.

"C̵h̶e̸r̷?̷"̸

A static rumble of a radio, like thunder, jolted you mid-drink, causing the liquid to catch in your throat. Coughing and sputtering for a while, you scrambled to collect yourself before turning behind you. Your gaze landed on the desk table where your radio sat. The crackling static continued, accompanied by a familiar voice and distorted sounds.

Alastor.

Grabbing a cloth to wipe yourself, you rushed to the desk and grabbed the old radio in your hands. The radio was a faded, worn red with yellowed dials, and its antennas were visibly broken, held up together with scraps of tape. Your contract with Mimzy did not allow you to meet with Alastor or his shadows for as long as you were under her, but that didn't mean you couldn't communicate with Alastor in other ways.

With trembling hands, you carefully adjusted the dials, aligning them to the familiar frequency that bridged the gap between you two. Your heart thrummed in your chest, head almost dizzy from anticipation. The distorted voices began to clear, and Alastor's distinctive voice cut through the static, a lifeline in the abyss.

"Cher, my dear, are you there?" Back in his room at the hotel, Alastor spoke through his mic, awaiting your response. He was sitting by the large windows, bathed in the dim glow of the Ring of Pride's lights. The hues painted a lovely ambiance against his skin, highlighting the contours of his sharp features as he reclined against a plush couch.

Heavy silence lingered for a while as you felt your throat closing up. Without realizing it, you began crying, your sobs echoing through Alastor's microphone.

"Yes, Al," you choked out between sobs, your hands gripping the surface of the radio tightly, nails scratching against the peeling paint. "I'm here. I missed you."

Alastor listened to your tearful voice through the crackling static, his shoulders tense as his claws clenched against his microphone handle. Your vulnerable confession hung heavily in the air, and he felt a storm stirring within him. Unsure of what to do with these emotions, he could only sit there and listen to you weep.

From the busiest street in Pentagram City to the darkest alleyways, Alastor's reputation as a bloodthirsty killer was infamous, and he reveled in it. The idea that an overlord like him could entertain genuine care for someone sounded preposterous. Throughout his human days and beyond, Alastor never felt such sentiments.

Decades ago, he only needed himself. However, ever since you entered his life, he became a man possessed.

The moment he first laid eyes on you, you were a vision of beauty with bright eyes, flushed cheeks, and he couldn't deny that he felt an inkling of fondness for you right from the start. But that was all it ever was—nothing more, nothing less.

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, he couldn't help but notice that the glow in your smile was brighter, lovelier. And despite his usual tendency to dismiss such details, Alastor couldn't look away. Not anymore.

You held him captive, like a deer frozen in the blinding glare of oncoming headlights. He was aware the collision was imminent, yet it still caught him off guard; A torrent of emotions crashing into him like a speeding truck, leaving him with twisted limbs and cracking bones, antlers torn from his head, fur matted and bloodied, with his heart exposed, beating vulnerably before you.

In the months that followed, Alastor remembered how foreign the feeling to him was. He didn't want to understand it, refused to, but each attempt to rip those festering emotions out of his chest only left him bleeding.

Looking back, Alastor finds himself incapable of fathoming how life was bearable before you entered it. The mere thought of returning to a time when you weren't present is something he refuses to entertain. The person he used to be, before he stepped into that speakeasy, now feels like a distant stranger, a mere shadow of the man he has become with you in his life.

The static in his thoughts subsided, in tandem with your crying and sobbing dying down. A prolonged pause lingered before Alastor interrupted the silence. "Cher, you know I'd bring you out of that wretched place if you just said the word."

A bitter laugh escaped your lips as you wiped away tears with your trembling fingers. "You tell me that every time we have these calls. Do you not get tired of it?"

"Never," Alastor hummed. The sound of your laughter, even tinged with bitterness, momentarily lifted the heavy burden that his heart carried. "The offer will always be up, darling!"

"You know I can't, Al. Me and her have history together," your voice paused, cracking with emotion. "And I still feel guilty."

Alastor sighed heavily, frustration dancing in his eyes. He always struggled to understand why you felt indebted to Mimzy, why guilt still clung to your decisions like a persistent shadow.

To him, Mimzy deserved the consequences. Despite his constant offers to free you from her grasp, you remained steadfast in your decision to complete your contract

"Very well, dear," Alastor's smooth voice crackled through the radio, weaving a comforting presence into the air as you moved back toward your vanity, taking a seat. "Now, enough of these melancholic talks. Tell me, how was the show tonight?"

"Mimzy had me perform 'Dolly' again," you remarked, a crooked smile playing on your lips. "She's well aware that I despise that song. I mean, really? Have you ever taken a look at the lyrics? It's a bit on the nose, don't you think?"

As your frustrations spilled out, Alastor stood from his seat, staff in hand. Placing it beside his closet, he attentively listened to your words, occasionally responding with chuckles and interjections. He slipped off his monocle, unbuttoned his suit jacket, and then his vest, revealing a well-tailored red undershirt that clung to his lean frame.

"I find the cannibal's wife line rather charming," Alastor smirked, and though he couldn't see it, you rolled your eyes in response.

"Of course you'd enjoy that part," you scoffed, mirroring Alastor's movements on the other side. Shedding the bedazzled dress, you opted for more comfortable attire, draping yourself in a robe.

"What's not to like? It shows the audience that you're my darling wife," Alastor quipped with a smug tone.

"Bushwa. They don't even know it's you. And I don't think anyone thinks highly of some poor fool shackled to a gaudy singer," you snorted. With the radio in tow, you began to pack your belongings into your purse.

"Don't be ridiculous," Alastor's laugh rumbled against the speakers. "My dear, being 'shackled' to you is the most delightful form of imprisonment."

"Such a sap," you scoffed, unable to suppress the smile that spread across your face. Shouldering your purse, you made your way towards the door, ready to leave. However, a sudden memory of a conversation with Mimzy surfaced.

"By the way, did you know Mimzy was planning to have me perform on some talk show?" you shared with Alastor while locking the door to your dressing room. A furrow appeared on your brow as the backstage lights played with shadows, casting a pensive expression on your face. "What was it again… Oh! Yes! Box-2-Nite."

A sudden screech from the radio erupted, its harsh sound reverberating in the hallway. Luckily, no one was around at this hour, and you cringed at the unexpected disturbance. Glaring at the box, you raised your brow. "You scared the living daylights outta me."

Alastor stayed silent for a while, claws digging into the cloth of his coat, ripping the fabric. With a snap of his head to the side, he dropped it to the floor and moved toward his staff, his shadows playing on the intricate patterns of the carpet beneath his feet.

"Do you perhaps mean… Vox-2-Nite?" His voice, usually smooth, carried an edge.

"Is that the name? I thought you hated telev—Oh. Ohhh..." As you ascended to the higher floors of the building, a realization swept over you.

Alastor's relationship with Vox was complicated. It didn't take a genius to see that. If the ceaseless back-and-forths on broadcasts, the turf wars that had casualties matching mass-extinction events, and the hushed gossip circulating among the other performers were anything to go by.

“Small world,” you chuckled, strolling down the hallway that led to the performers' rooms, the echo of your footsteps blending with the distant murmur of conversation. “I’m guessing I shouldn't take her up on the offer?”

"Absolutely not," Alastor practically snarled out, venom dripping from his tongue. The radio in your hand crackled and buffered, a faint golden glow emanating from the dials. "That pompous piece of shit television is nothing but a clout-chasing, mediocre host flitting between this fad and another on his little picture show podcasts."

“I know, love.” With a swift turn of a doorknob, you opened the door to your flat. "I wasn’t… planning… to…”

Your words trailed off, lingering in the air, as you entered the room. Your eyes widened in awe, captivated by the sight of a bouquet of white roses gracefully adorning your bed.

"Alastor," you spoke into the radio, your voice filled with genuine warmth. "Did you send me roses?"

Back in the hotel, Alastor, settled back into his plush couch. The fiery embers of his anger melting away like a fleeting shadow, replaced by the realization that you had discovered his gift.

A soft chuckle came from the radio, "Guilty as charged, cher. "

Your heart fluttered, and you sank onto the bed, dropping the radio on your mattress and taking the bouquet into your hands. The delicate petals felt soft against your fingers as you admired their beauty. White roses, unlike red ones, were so scarce it was difficult to get a hold of.

"Alastor, this is… wonderful," you spoke into the radio, smile so wide your cheeks almost hurt. "Why—How did you even—How did you even manage to find these?"

"Oh, I pulled a few strings," your husband grinned before chuckling, "and a few limbs too."

Your laughter intertwined with his and Alastor listened fondly, finding solace in the melody of your delight.

The day you inked that deal with Mimzy marked the onset of an agonizing pain he had never experienced before. The thought of leaving your sorrowful self under the wretched contract of that avaricious woman had incited a frenzied rage within him, leading to weeks of unbridled slaughters on the streets of hell.

The blood he spilled onto the sidewalks left a stain on the concrete that lasted months.

Fortunately for you and him, the ordeal was nearing its end. Just one more year remained until Alastor could finally reunite with you. After enduring decades of this agony, an additional year seemed like mercy.

"You like it, cher?" Alastor's voice dropped an octave lower, the satisfaction evident in his tone, pleased to bring happiness to your moment.

"Yes," you laugh, cradling the bouquet in your hands. "I like it very much."

˚୨୧₊♱

#calm before the #before the :))#sephiewrites #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #alastor imagine #hazbin imagine #hazbin hotel x you #alastor x you #hazbin x you #hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin hotel vox

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sugurizz · 11 months

Text

(Smut/ NSFW +18 - minors DNI !)

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟐 ── lover boy! Yuuta

Beach Boy! Yuuta who's playing handball with his friends. His soft dark locks and slender body caught your eye; running around shirtless as his tall frame prances around left and right. with his shiny lips curled up in a smile and his bubbly laughs resonating through the breeze.

Beach Boy! Yuuta who gets so shy when he sees that his ball landed next to you; the cute girl he's been eyeing up throughout the whole game. your sparkly asscheeks barely covered in your bikini strings and your breasts flushed against the warm sand really sent his brain spiralling.

He shyly grabs the ball as he approaches you, asks you if you'd care to join in. Then he furiously blushes when you redirect the question at him "Why don't you come chill under my parasol instead?"

Beach Boy! Yuuta who's hoping your parasol is large enough to cover up on both of you. you're straddeling his lap, messing up his hair and telling him that "he's the cutest boy you saw in the whole beach" as you plant kisses everywhere on his cheeks, chest, neck and lips. You giggle at every flustered whine he lets, until he grabs your hand, asking you to follow him...

Beach Boy! Yuuta who's eating your ass in his little cabin, smothering his face in your tender skin and drowning himself in the milky scent of your pussy. his blushy cheeks, cute eyebags and adorable noises make your pussy wetter for him.

Beach Boy! Yuuta who (un)surprisingly under his cute aura and puppy eyes hides the thickest cock that dangles alongside his left thigh..

"Oh, sorry...is it too b-big?" he mumbles when you tug down on his boxers, his veiny length springs free, almost slaps your cheek as it stands proud against his stomach.

Beach Boy! Yuuta who's now humping you like a bunny in heat. heavy breathes and frustrated sighs escape his pretty lips. face is still soaked in your sweet juices but he could care less..

"You sure you can take me?...don't wanna see you in pain".

"I'd die for your big cock, handsome angel." you whisper, grabbing his mushroon tip and smearing it across your pussy lips.

Beach Boy! Yuuta who's now into demon mode, the sweetness and shyness are long gone with his schlong bullying your pussy senseless. He groans over and over in your ear "you'll be my cute girlfriend...we'll feel good together..every day..."

Beach Boy! Yuuta who watches you with blown dark pupils as you squirt all over his stomach, fevereshly crying out a "Yess daddy.. I'm all yours! Make me yours!.."

Beach Boy! Yuuta who's so embarassed to see his thick cum spurt uncontrollably out his tip because of how hard you squirted on him.

"Sorry, I cum a lot...I'll bring a-"

He stares at you as you collect the ropes of seed he freshly spurted on your breasts, slowly lift your fingers then smear them on your tongue as you lock eyes with him.

"Come kiss me, Yuuta..."

Beach Boy! Yuuta who's shamelessly snowballing with you, making the loudest sloppiest sounds with his own cum bubbling on both your lips and dribbling down your chins. "One more round, angel boy?" You smirk as he struggles to hide his cute boner again...

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astonmartingf · 2 months

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GREEDY ; SV5

sebastian vettel x interviewer!reader

. . . at the height of his career all vettel wants is to win. with four world championships on his back, his ego- out of the world, surely that's enough for a room in your life.

amgf i forgot to add this but!!! implied smut but no actual scene, yay! the first post in the main is greedy 😤✊ i love how this turned out, wrote it in one sitting too hahahaha i'm enjoying myself way too much, i hope you do to <3

death of a bachelor ; masterlist

“Nervous?”

You walk out from the ensuite bathroom, finding the blonde German tangled up in the sheets, in that post-sex afterglow, hair- a sweaty mess, breaths labored, and eyes closed in blissed. It was indeed a sight to see, you’re proud, what can you say?

“Why would I be nervous?” Sebastian raises his eyebrows as you move closer to him, kissing his head before scooting in between the sheets.

“Your retirement? The media? My upcoming questions for the tribute?”

Seb’s laughter filled the hotel room, wrapping his arms around yours, “Can’t let me catch a break can you?” he whispers in your ears, hands lingering lower your stomach.

You shake your head, fighting the smile growing on your face, “Need to keep you on your toes. Whatever will happen to that ego of yours if I praise you easily.”

Seb shrugs, “Understandable, I mean you praise me enough in bed, I think I will bust a nut if you praise me there and then in press interviews.”

Scoffing, you stand up, slapping his arms playfully- “You need to control that mouth of yours, it’s funny how you haven’t slipped up yet. About this, y’know.”

Grabbing your cheeks, Sebastian pulls you in for a kiss, “Can’t. Wouldn’t dare even. What’s mine is mine, and you are mine. There’s no way I’m telling.”

Lifting yourself, you straddle on his thighs, “You’re not that good at hiding either, other drivers are asking.”

Peppering kisses on your neck, Sebastian groaned at the thought of the other drivers going to interviews with you. “Don’t remind me. I saw your interview with Lewis, and people are liking it way too much. Now I need to think of some snarky comment to turn all the attention back to you and me.”

A moan escapes your lips, laughter filled in between as you throw your head, back arching closer to Seb’s. “You’re insufferable.”

“I’m greedy. And I’m yours.”

You hum, letting Seb play with your thighs, “Is that why you brought me with you to Silverstone?”

“There’s nothing wrong with an early celebration right?”

You laugh, “Is that what we’re doing? Celebrating?”

Sebastian stops, pushing you back to the bed. Staring at his eyes, you see the hunger and determination inside them.

“Celebrating for the rest of our lives. Fuck, you’re driving me crazy liebe.”

sebastianvettel5

liked by interviewyln, lewishamilton, and 2,483,632 others

sebastianvettel5 how it started ten years ago and how it's going. retirement has never been better, all the things i want i have, and of course with you interviewyln

it took me a long time to even comprehend that i ended up with you. i was jealous, childish, and greedy. thank heavens that you gave me a chance, and here i am ten years later.

after my first interview with you, i knew i had to make the best first impression. who would've thought banter and snarky comments would lead us together.

and now, i wouldn't have it any other way with you and now with our daughter. i love you so much, thank you for being with me at my worst, and in the best times.

liebe, you'll always be in my heart.

comments are restricted by the user...

intervieweryln honey, thank you so much. i wouldn't have it any other way. through the thick and thin, we'll be together. i love you so much seb.

#f1 smau #f1 x reader #f1 fluff #sebastian vettel smau #sebastian vettel x reader #sebastian vettel fluff

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talaok · 4 months

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The carpet

pairing: Pedro Pascal x fem!reader

Summary: You and your husband Pedro prepare for a red carpet, but once you're there you have a wardrobe malfunction, luckily, he's there to help.

Warnings: just so much fluff for no reason

a/n: i havent written something for Pedro that wasnt a request in literally 9 months, but guess what the hyperfixation is hyperfixating lately and I just needed to write down what i've been daydreaming about all day.

"wow" he exhaled, closing the door behind him, his eyes trained on you.

You chuckled, looking at him from the mirror, as a choked "aww" escaped Linda, your make-up artist's, lips at the reaction.

You gave her a look and she just grinned, checking her work one final time before whispering "Seeing you two is better than watching any rom-com, I can't even remember the last time my Mark looked at me like that", making you laugh once more with a playful roll of your eyes.

"you look stunning sweetheart" Pedro breathed, right behind you now, his hands already on your waist

Another dreamy sigh fell out of Linda's lips before she decided it was time for her to go.

"i'll go wait downstairs then... leave you two lovebirds some time alone," she said, excitement piercing through her tone as if she was watching her daughter walk down the aisle.

"thank you Linda, we'll be down in a moment" You nodded, smiling sincerely at her as she started for the door.

But just when a foot was already out into the hallway, she turned around, a serious expression on her all of a sudden.

"And Pedro" she shot him a look "Just this once, try not to mess her lipstick up too much, will ya?"

You couldn't help but laugh, loudly, wholeheartedly, but Pedro, ever so honest only answered with a "I can't make any promises Linda", before the poor woman groaned and shut the door behind her.

Just as the soft thud of the motion bumped from wall to wall, Pedro turned you around in one swift motion, getting to see your pretty face better.

"hi there" you smiled, placing your hands on his chest, softly playing with the hem of his tuxedo's jacket.

"hello sugar" he grinned, letting his eyes drink in all of you.

"You look handsome" you murmured, your right hand going to his face, feeling the soft stubble of his beard graze your palm.

"mhhh" he hummed, leaning closer already, much to Linda's disappointment "Well you know how it is... if my lady's gonna be the most beautiful woman on the red carpet I gotta step up my game"

You huffed out a laugh

"'s that right?"

"need to at least try and look like you're not miles out of my league" he cocked an eyebrow, his hands on your waist pushing you flush against him.

"You're a bad man Pedo Pascal" you stifled a smirk "A bad, bad man" you whispered as his lips finally met with yours.

They were softer than usual, but heavenly just the same.

His hold tightened on you and you melted right into his arms, whimpering weakly into his mouth, before after what was probably a good two minutes, he pulled away.

"we gotta go" you murmured

"I know" he groaned, half-heartedly leaning away.

And as you checked yourself in the mirror one last time, you couldn't help but chuckle, as your gaze fell to your lips.

"Oh Linda's gonna be pissed"

__ __ __

the carpet was booming tonight,

celebrities filled every inch of the crimson rug, and the flashes of the countless cameras pointed at you were so strong you swore they would have blinded you if you weren't so used to them.

You were posing to show off the gorgeous dress you were lucky enough to be wearing, and once you had exhausted all the poses you knew, you turned to your husband on the left as he offered you his hand, which you took with a smile, walking to his spot and leaving a soft kiss on his cheek the photographers seemed more than a little enthusiastic about.

But as you posed together, his arm on your back drawing soothing circles, an almost inaudible pop made its way to your ears, and all the sudden some pressure was gone from your chest, and when you looked down... when you looked down the button that was holding the two pieces of fabric covering your boobs had popped, and said fabric was starting to fall.

"oh my god" you blurted, but before you could do anything, your reflexes slowed down by the shock, Pedro's hand found your chest, salvaging the falling pieces of the dress.

"I-" you stuttered, not knowing what to say, or do as he moved in front of you, his broad build doing a hell of a good job of shielding you from the photographers

"I was about to flash so many people" you finally breathed, your voice faint.

"yeah" he said, trying, really trying to suppress the chuckle down his throat, but failing miserably "Yeah you were sweetheart" he laughed softly, his hand still holding your dress.

"are you- don't laugh!" you gasped, although with one look at your face, you could feel a bubble of laughter making its way up your thoat "It's not funny" you smiled, chuckling too now.

"no" he shook his head, sarcasm spilling out of his every pore " there's nothing remotely funny about this sugar, absolutely" he smiled, making you want to roll your eyes

"hold the dress for a sec" he said, having you do just that as he took his jacket off and instead, put it on you.

"thank you" you smiled, looking up at him.

"you just worry about keeping that jacket closed" he murmured, kissing your cheek "I've already seen too many men's eyes wondering a bit too much"

"oh shut up" you laughed, rolling your eyes as he escorted you off what must have been the worst red carpet of your life.

"Whatever you say flash" he laughed, obviously very proud of his own joke

"god I hate you so much" you sighed, smiling widely into his chest nonetheless.

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gutsby · 6 months

Text

Grow a Uterus and We'll Talk

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Summary: Daryl has a bad case of baby fever, to put it lightly. You’re practically terrified of children. Rick lends you his kid for the night, and together, you come to learn that parenthood might not be the worst thing in the world. Even easier than baking muffins, one might say.

Warnings: Fluff, fluff, fluff, an absurd amount of baby rabies, and fluff. Don’t blame me if y’all get pregnant.

“You lay one finger on me and I’ll bite it off, Dixon.”

You’d done the same damn dance once a month, every month for the past two years, and you were starting to grow annoyed with your boyfriend’s advances.

“Would it really be tha’ bad if we tried it out…just once?” Daryl huffed.

“I don’t know,” you answered, shrugging, “Grow a uterus and we’ll talk.”

The archer playfully lunged at you from across the couch, but you easily side-stepped and took residence at the far end of the room. You reached for a stiletto to throw at his head if he came any closer.

“Still on the baby business, huh?” Carol called as she strode past the living room toward the kitchen.

“Ya know we’d make some damn cute crotch goblins,” Daryl yelled back. You rolled your eyes.

“That isn’t for you to decide, Daryl,” Carol’s voice seemed to toughen, even give him a scolding look from a distance away, “And if you knock her up before she’s ready, I’ll string you up by your balls and feed you to the walkers.”

The woman did not fuck around—and you loved her for it. Presently, you stuck your tongue out at Daryl as if to say, ‘See? I told you so’ and the man simply scowled. Flopped down on the couch and propped his dirty boots up on the coffee table.

“‘Course I wouldn’t try if ye weren’t ready,” he grumbled, “Jus’ wanted you ta consider it.”

You joined him on the couch and nudged his feet off the table.

“Is that why you’ve been parading every baby in Alexandria in my face for the past six months? Hoping I’d ‘consider’ things a little more?” you quipped, raising both eyebrows.

Daryl paused a beat, seemed to chew on his thoughts for a moment or two. Then he offered you a sheepish grin and said,

“Rick and Michonne really need the free childcare.”

You were itching to grab that high heel again. Before you could, though, a sound thundered through your foyer and the front door was thrown open wide. In the blink of an eye, Rick had stumbled through your entryway, passed off his infant to Daryl like a sack of potatoes, and raced back to the door.

“Rick, what the fuck?!” you shouted before he could escape.

“Date night,” Rick answered in a ragged breath, gripping the door frame while he glanced over at Daryl.

Daryl smiled and held Judith to his chest like she might’ve been the most precious thing in the universe. You narrowed your eyes.

“He put you up to this?” you asked, tipping your chin in Daryl’s direction.

Rick didn’t hesitate; he said that he had. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Daryl shooting daggers at his friend. Promptly, Judith pawed at your boyfriend’s stubbled cheeks and babbled.

Sensing the tension in the air, Carol gathered her belongings and contemplated baking her bread elsewhere—or at least give you and Daryl some space to talk. She started toward the door,

“Walk a lady home?” she said to Rick.

Rick shot her a curious look but accepted anyway. Casting a sidelong glance to the man on the couch and the woman who was currently staring him down with an irate look in her eyes—you—he quickly surmised it was in his best interest to leave. Hopefully Judith was too young to catch on to any curse words that might be hurled in the next several minutes.

“Be good, you three,” Rick gave his parting words before following Carol outside. The door crashed shut behind them.

As soon as it had, you were back on your feet and traipsing out of the room.

“Come on,” Daryl whined.

He followed your steps into the kitchen with Judith still cradled in his arms. There was a pregnant pause as you rifled through your cabinets, wordlessly searching for some ingredients to bake whatever pastry it would take to get your mind off the discomfiture of this situation—you decided on muffins, at length.

It wasn’t like you hated babies. You loved their big bald heads and their pudgy, wobbling legs. You loved the way they giggled and smiled and dribbled food all over their fronts. You didn’t even mind the thought of pregnancy; carrying a pint-sized redneck in your belly for nine months wouldn’t be the worst thing that could happen.

It was the world that frightened you most. The thought of a newborn child’s slim chances at surviving a place like this. The fear of that alone was enough to have you fighting that dreadful outcome, tracking your cycle like a hound and fighting Daryl off every month when you knew that day was coming. You’d been pretty successful thus far. But by the looks of the man across the kitchen beaming down at the baby, you weren’t sure how long that winning streak would last.

“Wanna hold her?”

“No.”

“Wanna do her hair?”

“She hasn’t got any.”

Daryl shot you a look of mock indignation and stroked Judith’s head.

“You kiddin’? Little Ass Kicker’s gotta have at least fifteen strands by now,” he retorted, tugging at the short blond tufts as if to prove a point.

Judith smiled a toothless grin up at her Uncle Daryl. You all but had to leave the room to stifle the sounds of your reproductive organs screaming, 'Give that man a baby! NOW!' You clenched your stomach and turned away to start preparing the pans.

Daryl perched Judith on his lap and starting puffing out his cheeks. The infant shrieked with laughter. You assembled the flour, sugar, baking powder and salt together on the counter and sought after a bowl.

“Dada, Dada!” Judith chanted. Trying in earnest to say ‘Daryl’ but ending up sounding like she was calling him dad. You dropped the mixing bowl on the countertop with a clatter.

“Daryl, kiddo, Dar-yl,” your boyfriend tried to teach her, enunciating his name a couple more times.

“Dada!” the little tyke howled again as she fisted his shirt in her fingers.

Milk and oil and— eggs. Where are the eggs?

You tore through the fridge and wanted to sob into the shelves with the sheer force of delirium coursing through your veins. Damn you, Charles Darwin, I am not in a place to be procreating right now.

You tried turning your mind to other things—cooking, crying, contemplating the course of human evolution—but when you turned back with the carton of eggs in hand, you almost sent the dozen of them crashing straight to the floor.

Daryl was pinching her chubby cheeks.

If you weren’t so violently inclined to breed a whole new gaggle of progeny with this man, you probably would’ve chucked an egg at his head.

You sighed as you dropped the last of your cooking supplies on the surface of the kitchen island. You planted your hands flat on the granite and stared shamelessly at the two of them. Daryl was feigning ignorance, tapping Judith’s tiny pink nose with the tip of his finger and watching her giggle. When he leaned down to kiss the top of her head, you spun around to kick the oven door shut and cut the appliance off, immediately.

“Alright, you win, you bastard,” you said in a huff.

Daryl looked up from his present occupation, eyeing you innocently.

“What do you mean, hon—”

You cut him short, raising a finger to halt his speech before starting toward the door.

“Shut up,” you muttered as you headed for the stairs, “Meet me up there in five.”

Daryl deposited Judith in her portable playard in a second’s time and went scrambling up those steps faster than he ever had before.

Silently, speedily, he thanked every one of his lucky stars and his best friend, Rick Grimes.

#daryl dixon #daryl x reader #daryl dixon fluff #fluff #daryl dixon imagine #twd daryl #twd fanfiction #daryl dixon smut #the walking dead #daryl dixon one shot #twd imagine

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seat-safety-switch · 8 months

Text

Yeah, I worked on The Machine. And, as I pried open its secret compartments and loosened its wiring harness and decrypted its memories, it worked on me also. Deep within its many hidden copses lay immense knowledge, unknown to all but those who formed it. Who built The Machine? No one knows. Everyone knows. I know. Now that The Machine works again, the person who last built it was me.

For years, I was a humble regular home-gamer mechanic. Something around the house would break. For the sake of argument, we'll use as an example the time my microwave blew up when I opened the door. One morning, it just went pop and never worked again. Well, at least until I fixed it. It turns out that the door had a little microswitch inside, and that microswitch got gummy with aerosolized food goo. Because it was gummed up, it wouldn't switch the computer off in time when I opened the door. That would be dangerous: I could get a full face shot of microwaves from the still-running magnetron. A safety interlock fired, and blew the brains out of the big fuse controlling the magnetron. It died for me. Replacing the switch, and the fuse, brought that microwave back to life. I did many such repairs. I was not prepared for this repair.

Fix after fix, I built up my confidence, and I got cockier. I'd pull broken machines out of the trash, mysterious foreign computers from another country. Some things escaped my grasp, and slipped further into oblivion. Most, though: most, I pulled back from the brink, and forced them to live again. That's when I found The Machine.

It was beautiful, intricate: thousands of parts, wedged together tighter than I had ever seen before, and a cryptic fault at the centre of it. When you cram together this much stuff, the complexity doesn't just add: it multiplies. To aid me, I looked for a guide, a factory service manual. The manufacturer laughed. The manufacturer's representative laughed. Someone who made it, who I tracked down on LinkedIn, hung up on me and refused to answer his door when I visited. Weeks later, he was gone, "dead" in a suspiciously convenient accident, a body left behind at the edge of his bleach-washed property with no identifying marks or fingerprints. I got the message: I was on my own.

This little wire just came unplugged. I guess someone must have dropped it. All better now.

#best of

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romanticintheory · 13 days

Note

now thinking about what it would look like if reader was betrayed by simon. i just wanna feel the excrutiating pain😞😞🙏🙏

nonny u read my mind!!

simon "ghost" riley x reader

-you meet him while you're shopping for new jewelry. your father, instead of celebrating your birthday with you, sent you a stupid amount of cash with the note, "happy birthday. get yourself something you like."

-he was always away for work. what he did, you never knew. your entire life, he had always been distanced from you despite his friendly, loud demeanor. it was like he was trying to make up for his lack of emotional and physical presence with his smiles and money.

-you believed simon riley was different.

-he tapped you on the shoulder when you were birthday shopping, clearing his throat to drown the nerves as he asked you which of the two necklaces looked better.

-you smiled kindly at him and pointed to the one you thought looked better.

-"who's the lucky lady?"

-"just my mum. figured she deserved something nice and i want it to be special for her."

-you both hit it off immediately.

-his quiet, observant demeanor was a breath of fresh air compared to what you had suffered with your father. he was always listening, keeping his eyes on you, or maybe had an arm around your waist when his attention was required elsewhere.

-he was also incredibly understanding of your situation with your father.

-"i dunno. i thought about having you meet him, but he's just always so busy and it always feels like there's no point in asking him."

-"he's that busy? what's he even do?"

-"couldn't tell you. he can't even be bothered to let me know what's so important that he has to basically ignore me my entire life. i mean, i love him, but..."

-"yeah. i get it."

-eventually, your dad catches on that you're dating someone. it's during his once-a-month call that hears a simon's "ow" following a loud thud.

-when your dad finds out it's your boyfriend, he insists on meeting him.

-"need t' get to know him, is all. especially if he's gonna be my future son-in-law!"

-when you tell simon, he gives you an encouraging nudge toward agreeing. it had been almost a year that you were together, and you were still apprehensive on letting the love of your life and the vague outline of your father meet.

-"he already knows. bet he'll keep asking until you give in, so why not now?"

-your shoulders sag in defeat as you realize he's right. so, you text your dad the details of a meetup.

-simon is oddly silent the entire drive to the restaurant. you assume it's nerves. after all, you can feel your own heart beating furiously against your chest.

-when you're about three blocks away from the restaurant, he pulls over on the curb. it's a dark night and all is quiet. for a moment, you think he's about to chicken out and propose the both of you just go home.

-he leans back in his seat and unlocks the car doors. he raises his hand as a signal and utters a single phrase:

-"don't scream."

-suddenly, the door to your seat is thrown open and someone is tying your hands behind your back and your legs together. the entire time, you're pleading, tears gathering in your eyes with a confused look on your face.

-as the last knot is secured on your legs, you hear a deep voice murmuring an apologetic, "sorry. nothing personal." is that a scottish accent? "ghost, price gave the good to go. we're ready for you."

-the soldier looks into your eyes briefly, nods back at simon, and leaves, shutting the door behind him.

-you turn your gaze back to who you thought was the one.

-"simon?"

-still, he refuses to make eye contact with you. instead, he opens the glove compartment and pulls out a balaclava and mask, pulling the former over his face.

-you can't read his eyes when he finally looks over at you, his expression now covered by a skull.

-"don't try to escape. we've got someone watchin' you, so we'll know."

-"why are you doing this?" your voice is cracking, and the tears are now slowly dribbling down to your chin and onto your lap.

-he doesn't answer you, just giving you a hardened, "i'm sorry," before taking your phone from your bag and leaving you in the dark, suffocating car.

-yeah. you believed simon riley was different.

#call of duty imagine #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #cod imagine #cod mw x reader #simon riley imagine #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley imagine #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost imagine #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #ghost x you #cod angst #call of duty angst #simon riley angst #ghost angst #rarawrites

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doumadono · 7 months

Text

Turbulent temptations - Choso x Reader

Warnings: smut - oral (f & m receiving, 69), doggy style, fingering, rough p in v, angst, f!Reader, boyfriend!Choso Synopsis: Choso and you engaged in a heated disagreement, culminating in an incredibly steamy moments

MASTERLIST

An atmosphere thick with tension hung in the air. Choso, the tall and muscular Death Painting Womb, stood before you, his piercing purple eyes ablaze with a mixture of anger and frustration. His jet-black hair was wild and unruly. He was a formidable presence, but tonight, he was more than intimidating.

You, a mere human, stood your ground, refusing to let him dictate your every move. His controlling tendencies had escalated to a breaking point, and tonight's argument was the culmination of weeks of mounting resentment. "You can't keep doing this, Choso," you said, your voice wavering but determined. "I won't let you control every aspect of my life. I need my independence."

Choso clenched his fists, his muscles tensing as he struggled to keep his temper in check. His lips curled into a snarl. "You don't understand, do you, my little weakling? I do it because I care about you. I'm trying to protect you from this cruel world."

You shook your head, your own temper flaring. "Protecting me is one thing, Choso, but suffocating me is another. I can't breathe in this relationship if you're always watching my every move."

Choso's face contorted in frustration. His cheeks flushed, contrasting sharply with his pale complexion. "I can't help it. It's in my nature. I've lost people I cared about, and I can't bear to lose you too."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you took a step closer to him. "Choso, I love you, but love can't thrive in an environment of control and jealousy. We need to find a balance, or we'll destroy what we have!"

"Y/N, I won't give up on protecting you because that's the only way I can be sure you're safe. You should be grateful!"

"Shut the hell up, Choso! Fuck you!" You practically screamed the last two words and delivered a forceful punch to his chest.

He blinked and seized you by the throat, his stature towering over you. He had long surpassed you in size and strength. His hand closed around your delicate neck, and he tightened his grip, eliciting a sharp gasp from you as fear instantly flooded your eyes. "If you ever lay a hand on me like that again," Choso seethed, his voice dripping with anger, "I won't hesitate to put you in your place." With that, he released his grip on you, and you stumbled, collapsing to the floor.

He moved towards you with a slow, deliberate pace, sending a shiver down your spine.

As you retreated, you found yourself backing up past your couch, your heart pounding in your chest.

"I don't know what it is about you," Choso uttered in a hushed tone that sent a chill through your bones. "You're driving me insane." He closed the gap until he was just a few feet away, and you couldn't help but tremble.

You remained silent, a mix of emotions boiling within you. Your face grew flushed, your fists clenched at your sides, and your teeth ground together in frustration. Choso's predatory gaze roved over your body, making you feel exposed and vulnerable. Anger surged through your mind, but your pussy ached, and in that moment, you despised yourself.

Finally, his eyes locked onto yours, and he advanced another step, a dark intensity in his gaze that made it clear he had no intention of letting you escape his grasp.

He grabbed your upper arms. His grip on you was a vice, a sudden and unyielding force that left you frozen in place. Choso's voice dripped with a chilling intensity as he snarled, his breath hot against your face, his eyes smoldering with a dangerous fire. "What are you gonna do?" The question hung in the air, heavy with an ominous promise. "I can take whatever I desire, whether you resist or not. So, what are you going to do? Scream? Fight me again? Beg for me to stop?"

Your defiance met his unyielding demeanor, and a silence thick with tension enveloped you both. You chose not to scream; words seemed futile in that charged moment. Instead, you defied his expectations and, with determination, rose onto your tiptoes, meeting his dangerous gaze. Without uttering a single word, you pressed your lips against his.

Choso's initial stillness and lack of response was deafening, a tension hanging in the air that was thicker than the darkest of clouds. But then, with a fierce intensity, he pulled you into a messy kiss that left your mind reeling.

Your thoughts raced as desire burned within you, an undeniable craving for him, an unspoken but unmistakable need that coursed through your veins. Your teeth grazed menacingly against his lower lip, sinking in for a harsh bite.

Choso's eyebrow shot up in shock, his grip on you loosening involuntarily.

Seizing the opportunity, you used your newfound freedom to forcefully shove him away. He stumbled backward and tumbled onto your couch, a mix of confusion and irritation flashing across his features. "The fuck…" Choso began, but you didn't let him finish.

With a predatory grace, you closed the distance between you, straddling his lap with an unmistakable air of dominance. The fabric of your skirt rode up your thighs, exposing a tantalizing expanse of skin against his robe.

You could feel his cock starting to harden beneath you, and you leaned forward, your lips almost against his as you stared straight at Choso. "Despite all of my anger and frustration, I still need you."

With a self-assured grin curling at the edges of his lips, Choso gently pushed you away, rising to his feet. He swiftly shed his clothes, and you mirrored his actions, discarding your own attire. The inexplicable rush of desire had taken you by surprise, and you couldn't help but wonder if his cursed powers were weaving their enchantment on your mind. Yet, at that moment, you couldn't find it in yourself to care - all you craved was Choso.

Your eyes drank in the sight before you.

He stood there fully naked, finally. Choso was facing you so you could see it all: his chest - strong and broad, his abs - perfectly toned, and his cock - thick and hard, precum dripping from the tip. He was the most handsome being you had ever seen in your life.

Soon, Choso was propped up on his elbows, looking at you, running the tip of his tongue along his upper lip; the head of his cock was nearly purple as his irises and the precum was literally dripping down his shaft - his excitement mirrored your own, unmistakable in his demeanor.

With a mischievous smile, you gracefully made your way onto the couch, letting your hair cascade around Choso's face as you descended to kiss him. His response was eager as he met your lips, and you allowed him to deepen the kiss, savoring the electric connection between you, before gently drawing back. "Let's find out if you can employ that tongue more effectively," you whispered, and with a swift movement, you were straddling his face.

Choso needed no further encouragement. Without hesitation, he dove into his task, sensually caressing your pussy with his tongue. Your reaction was immediate - a contented sigh escaping your lips as he expertly teased your cunt. As he continued, he gently sucked on your engorged clit, drawing a surprised moan from your lips. Unable to contain your desire, you began to move your hips back and forth, pressing your wet entrance against his eager mouth. Choso's skillful tongue danced along your slick folds, teasing the entrance to your throbbing core, ocassionally licking a long stripe along your slit. He lapped at your pussy like a starved man. Choso placed a few tiny kisses to your clitoris, eventually nudging the sensitive bud with the tip of his tongue. As your body responded with increasing fervor, he intensified his efforts, skillfully pleasuring your clit with his mouth. Waves of pleasure cascaded through your being, your fingers toying with your nipples as he lavished attention on your dripping pussy.

You shifted away from his face briefly, repositioning yourself to lean down and engage with his arousal. Afterward, you eased your wet pussy back onto his waiting mouth, and Choso responded eagerly, lavishing attention on your sensitive bundle of nerves. Simultaneously, you leaned closer to his hardened length, and with one dainty hand, you enveloped his throbbing shaft, commencing a leisurely and tantalizing rhythm of movement.

Choso groaned into your dripping cunt and the noise sent vibrations through your slick pussy. You moaned and stuck out your tongue, licking the precum off his tip. Choso's hips bucked as you did, and you licked up and down his shaft before finally taking him into your warm, welcoming mouth.

You could sense the mounting tension in the room as his deep, guttural groans resonated in the air. His hips subtly shifted, syncing with the rhythm of your movements as you pleasured him. Choso's commitment to your desires didn't waver, his attention unwavering as he devoured your cunt. But as you dared to take him deeper into your mouth, his reaction was palpable - his head tilted back, a primal sound escaping his throat as he drove his hips upwards, urging his hardness further into your welcoming throat. You gagged yourself around his cock, and found it impossible to stifle your emotions - tears streamed down your cheeks as you carefully bobbed your head, cupping his balls with your free palm, squeezing them slowly.

Choso let out a deep, sensuous moan as he spat on your slit. His intent was to ensure you were drenched, and he proceeded to resume his delicate attentions. With tantalizing tenderness, he showered your slit with gentle, kitten-like licks that sent shivers of pleasure coursing through your entire being. He occasionally enveloped your soft, plump lips within the warm embrace of his mouth after sucking them in.

Soon, you withdrew your mouth from his throbbing dick, releasing it with a soft, satisfying pop sound. You gracefully moved away from Choso's face, letting the charged atmosphere linger in the room.

"I nearly forgot the exquisite sensations of human pleasures," Choso remarked, his voice laced with surprise.

He wasted no time at all. Choso gently encouraged you to recline on your side on the plush couch. His fingers traced a voluptuous path from your side, along your thigh, and ultimately, between your legs. His focus was unwavering, and he began to tease your slick folds. Choso, with a witching vehemence, urged you to circle your arm around his neck, causing you to partially turn your upper body towards him. As your eyes met, he lavished attention on your breasts, his lips finding their way to one of your sensitive nipples. Contemporaneously, his skilled fingers delved deep into your sopping cunt, kindling a conflagration of passion and pleasure that consumed you fully.

"Ch-Choso!" You couldn't help but whine his name.

His tongue gently traced circles around your sensitive bud, and he playfully nibbled at it. Choso's fingers moved in a rhythmic motion, thrusting in and out of your cunny, inching you close to the brink of an ecstatic release.

The sensations were already sending delightful shivers throughout your body, and your soft, enticing moans coupled with the rhythmic grinding of your hips against his skilled hand only fueled Choso's desire. As your bodies moved in harmony, his palm expertly pressed against your aroused clit, intensifying the sensations as you eagerly responded to his every touch.

You found yourself perched precariously on the precipice of ecstasy, your body quivering with anticipation. With each passing moment, the intensity of your desire grew, and you knew that you were on the brink of an earth-shattering climax. It was the final touch, the masterful stroke of Choso's hand against your swollen, throbbing clit, that sent you hurtling into a tidal wave of pleasure.

"Oh, Choso!!!" Your body convulsed, an intense orgasm surging through you like a tempest, causing your hips to buck uncontrollably against his skillful touch. In the throes of ecstasy, you couldn't help but cry out, your head arching backward in sheer pleasure. "Yes, yes, yes, fuck!"

As the waves of pleasure began to recede, you felt Choso's hand, now tender and gentle, delicately caressing your sensitive, slick folds. You were left panting, your senses still tingling from the electrifying experience.

His throbbing dick pressed firmly against your ass as Choso's lips met yours in a passionate kiss. Your bodies radiated heat, drawing you closer together. In a moment of desire, he deftly maneuvered, lifting your leg and guiding it over his hip. Choso continued to press against you, and as your lips locked in a sensual embrace, the tip of his dick found its way between your slick folds.

A soft moan escaped your lips, your voice barely able to contain the passion that surged through you. "Oh, Choso!"

With each movement, he explored your neck with his lips, savoring the taste of your skin, while the intensity of your connection deepened, creating a symphony of desire and pleasure between you.

He moved his hips with a deliberate, unhurried rhythm, rocking back and forth in a sensual dance of desire. Every motion he made was slow. With each thrust, he found an opportunity to run his tongue along the column of your neck, heightening the intensity of your passion while his fervor drove you to ecstasy.

"Harder, Choso, harder, please…" You were moaning.

Some time later, he withdrew, prompting you to shift your position. You settled on all fours, your ass end provocatively arched upward.

He approached from behind, the tip of his dick making contact with your slick entrance.

You could sense it, delicately seeking access to your tight, inviting cunt, and you reciprocated by sensually wriggling back against him.

His shaft glided smoothly into your drenched haven, and he inched in gradually, a contented sigh escaping his lips as he felt your warmth envelop him. "Fuck."

A sensual moan escaped your lips as you felt him filling you completely, his pulsating, rigid length nestled deep within your core.

"Oh, Y/N," he gasped, his voice laden with desire. Choso's strong hands gripped your hips, initiating a slow, tantalizing rhythm, guiding you back and forth onto his throbbing cock. However, this leisurely pace didn't persist for long. He skillfully maneuvered one hand around your form, cupping your breasts, while his other hand found its way to your sensitive clit. With fervor, he began to thrust into you with an intensity that left you both breathless and consumed by passion.

"Ammmmpppp- fuck!" You groaned, pressing your head to the armrest.

He let out a deep, primal wail, and your breath caught as he passionately fucked you. The rhythmic sound of his balls slapping against your plush ass reverberated in the air, creating an intoxicating symphony. His every thrust found that sweet, sensitive spot within you, igniting waves of pleasure as the tip of his dick massaged that spongy place. Simultaneously, his skilled fingers danced over your sensitive clitoris, sending electric pulses of ecstasy through your body, while his teasing grip on your hardened nipples pushed you ever closer to a euphoric bliss.

"So good and so tight, fuck, Y/N, fuck," Choso moaned behind you, his head roled back a little. "I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum."

In an instant, Choso quivered with intensity, delivering one last powerful thrust into the depths of your wetness. The force of his movement was so overwhelming that it caused you to lose your balance, making you stagger forward. At that very moment, you could feel the scorching heat of his hot seed spurt into your cunt, filling you completely. It was this ecstatic rush that tipped you over the edge, igniting a second climax that surpassed the first in its sheer intensity.

Your inner muscles clenched tightly around Choso's remarkable length, coaxing out every last drop of his cum, which surged forth, spilling into your longing cunt. The sheer elatedness of the moment left you both gasping, lost in the intoxicating throes of passion.

After an exhilarating encounter, the two of you found yourselves on the couch, both panting heavily. You reclined on your back, the rise and fall of your chest mirroring your deep, labored breaths. Choso, his own breath ragged, turned over and nestled his head gently against your bosom, seeking solace in the tender connection you shared.

"You're fucking amazing," he stated. "I believe I should encourage you to engage in more argments with me," he quipped, a playful glint in his eye. "You're becoming incredibly passionate afterward, my sweet Y/N."

Tagging: @roast-toast @bestliarr

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