#when you spent almost half the day making something and end up with a sore back and hating the final result too

[gojipink]

happy ending

ஐ ft. diluc

ஐ summary. diluc just wants to take care of you when you come home with sore muscles. and whats better than a massage? a happy ending massage!

ஐ warnings. N!SFW, mdni, fem!reader, body worship, fingering (f. rec.), from behind, creampie. 3.6k words

ஐ notes. i wanted to write something for my darling love @lunargrapejuice since it was her bday (a few weeks ago) happy belated birthday, my sweet angel ♡

your boots feel like 30 pounds of iron on your feet and your body aches all over as you slowly trudge up to the front door of the mansion. this week of commissions has been especially physically demanding and the only thing on your mind right now is a warm dinner with diluc and a boiling hot bath. 

these past few weeks, you and diluc have been operating on completely different schedules, most days only allowing for a quick kiss before you leave for the city. you would be lying if you said part of your fatigue wasn't from the lack of quality time spent with your lover, fleeting kisses doing nothing but making you needily plead just one more. you miss his presence desperately and you have half a mind to take a day off just to follow him around like a lost duckling while he works around the winery, just to spend a little time with him.

Luckily, earlier this morning, diluc caught you right before you left, declaring that work has slowed a tad and that he’ll be home in the evening. As excited as you were to finally get much needed time with him, physical and mental exhaustion catches up to you throughout the day leading you trudge through your work counting down the hours until you could finally have your much needed relaxing evening with diluc.

finally entering the house, you bend over to messily unlace your boots, unceremoniously kicking them to the side. 

“y/n?” diluc calls out as he emerges from the kitchen, “there you are, i was almost going to meet you on your walk since i saw it getting dark out.” he frowns slightly when he sees you rolling your head around your shoulders trying to stretch out the knots. 

“hi ‘luc,” giving him a tired smile as you look around, “is everyone else already gone?” 

“i sent everyone home a little early for the weekend. i figured we could use a nice quiet night in, just the two of us,” coming closer to you and brushing some loose strands of hair out of your face, cupping your cheek as you lean into his touch.

“it has been awhile since we’ve both been home at the same time,” you sigh as the warmth from his hands seemingly spreads throughout your body, somewhat soothing the tension you hold.

diluc leans in to press a lingering kiss to your other cheek, “dinner is still hot, go ahead and sit while i fix our plates.” 

turning your head you give him a quick kiss whispering a soft thank you before diluc gently guides you to the kitchen. after washing your hands, you drag yourself over to the dining table where you inelegantly plop yourself down in a seat and immediately lay your head down on the table. a minute later, diluc places two bowls of delicious smelling stew on the table, his hand coming up to caress your head, “let’s eat, my love, it’ll make you feel better.” 

rising back up you give him a sleepy smile thanking him for the meal before digging in. gradually, the food does fill you up with more energy and the two of you naturally settle into conversation about the day.   

while you listen to diluc talk about events that occurred while you weren’t home, you can't help but repeatedly crane your head side to side, trying to get rid of the deep ache settled in your neck and shoulder muscles, bringing a hand up to work at the knots. 

diluc pauses his story, “darling, are you feeling alright?” 

“yes! yes, i'm sorry, i swear i’m listening,” you look at him a little sheepishly, “to be honest, i might’ve pulled something earlier or maybe it's just an accumulation of things but i'm just feeling a little tight all over.” you sigh, bringing your hand down and away from your neck, “tomorrow i was going to see if there’s a masseuse in town or hmm… if not, i guess i could try liyue the next time i'm sent there.” you muse out loud.

diluc hums in agreement while he reaches a hand over to softly knead your stiff shoulder for you, frowning at how taut the muscles are, “perhaps a long bath would help, hm?” his hand slides down your arm and takes your hand bringing it up to his lips to leave a kiss onto each knuckle, “let’s head upstairs, love, i'll draw one for you.”

once in your shared bedroom, diluc leaves you some privacy to strip out of your day-old clothes  in the bedroom while he prepares the bath.

fully undressed, you walk into the bathroom where diluc finishes pouring the epsom salt into the steaming water. he turns around at the sound of you coming in, immediately breathless at the sight of your perfect naked body. 

“beautiful,” he whispers, reaching out to take your hand as his soft adoring eyes stay locked on yours. you give him a grateful smile as he leads you into the bath.

“you don't want to join me?” you pout up at him while he helps ease you into the water, “not right now, i have something to do really quick but i'll be back before you're finished, i promise,” he presses a kiss to the back of your hand, “you take all the time you need in here, you deserve it.” 

still slightly frowning since all you want is to spend this entire evening glued to his side, you reluctantly let go of his hand. diluc lightly chuckling at your still pouty lips, and bends over to give them a sweet kiss before departing the bathroom, closing the door behind him. 

a little disappointed by diluc’s absence but nonetheless thankful for the bath, you lean your head back against the tub and sink down further into the water. 

after about 45 minutes of soaking and rinsing off, you finally emerge from the bathtub, body already feeling lighter from the bath.

wrapping a towel around yourself, you open the bathroom door and step into the bedroom, surprised by the scene in front of you. the bedroom was dimly illuminated by the help of a handful of candles scattered around the room while imported lotions and oils were arranged neatly on the nightstand. diluc was standing at the foot of the bed, semi dressed down in a loose white shirt paired with his usual pants, laying a towel on top of the blankets.     

“diluc,” you gasp out, “what's all this?”

he smiles as he comes around the corner of the bed to greet you, his hands coming up to rub along your arms,

“well, you’ve been working so hard and you said you were wanting to go to a masseuse and i just thought that maybe i could give you one tonight,” he breaks eye contact for a moment, looking a little bashful, “granted, i have no massaging experience, i just thought that maybe i could help you relax a little more to take some of the soreness away.” 

“oh, ‘luc,” you breathe out, still awestruck by the effort he put into this, “this is the sweetest and most thoughtful idea, thank you.” 

“there’s no need to thank me, darling, i wanted to do this for you. here, come lay down” 

gently, diluc unwraps the towel covering your body, discarding it onto the floor, then guides you to lay down on your stomach. your arms come up to wrap around the down pillow supporting your head and your body melts under the tranquil atmosphere he created. 

standing on the side of the bed, diluc pours some of the body oil into his palms activating his pyro vision to heat up his hands. upon first contact you hum in satisfaction, his warm hands sliding gently along your back and shoulders spreading the oil. once pleased with the even coat of oil, he began kneading at both of your shoulders. thumbs digging into the sizable knots in your trap muscles then sliding up along the nape of your neck. you softly moan at the repetitive movement as he diminishes the knots, slowly working his way down your spine to focus on the muscles along your shoulder blades. 

“does it feel alright, my love?” he gently asks, not wanting to disturb the relaxing air too much.

too blissed out to even attempt words, you give him a hum of agreement, the sound slightly muffled by the pillow you currently have your face buried into. 

huffing out a small laugh, diluc continues his ministrations along your back, putting on extra pressure whenever he feels a knot, the sensation always causing you to breathe out a moan.  

if he were being completely honest, diluc has been sporting a boner since he first saw you naked in the bathtub. it's been almost two weeks since you have last been intimate together and repeatedly seeing your body be on full display for him hasn't allowed his straining dick to catch a break. 

but everyone knows diluc’s self-discipline is unmatched. tonight wasn't about him, it was entirely about you and making you feel good. he wanted to do this right and take care of his love who walked through the front door with her body aching painfully. 

while a little lost in thought, diluc’s pressure lightened up slightly causing you to whine out, “mmph…harder ‘luc,”

attention snapping back to you, diluc mentally squashed down all feelings of arousal, “y-yeah angel, i’m sorry,” he breathes out, “can i get on top? i'll have more leverage.”

seeing you nod your head against the pillow, diluc gently splits your legs apart creating enough room for him to kneel between. diluc wills himself not to take a peek at your pretty pussy as he situates himself in between your legs. he resumes his massage along the laterals of your spine going further down until he focuses on your lower back making you let out a lewd moan into the pillow. diluc takes a deep breath in, closes his eyes for a second, trying to steel his composure.

in this moment, youre past the point of self-awareness. you almost feel drunk with the way you sink into the bed, diluc taking over each one of your senses. your fuzzy mind is completely saturated with his scent, his warmth, and his overwhelming touch. your limbs feel like jelly, soft and pliant, completely laid out for him to do whatever he wants. your body instinctively reacting to his touch, a ball of pure need forming deep inside you, your pussy oozing and dripping onto the towel under you. sighing out his name, your legs naturally part wider for him, subconsciously trying to guide him to the place where you require the most attention now.

diluc shakily exhales, his cock painfully throbbing against his pants, a tiny wet spot forming as his precum seeps through his flushed tip. swallowing thickly, he moves away from your back and places a hand on each calf, kneading at the muscles. his oil-slicked hands continuously press upwards along your calves slowly inching up towards your thighs, his eyes following the trail of his hands. grabbing a handful of your thighs and spreading them to massage the muscle, his cord of reason finally snaps when he catches a peek of your drooling cunt glistening in the candlelight. 

a guttural groan escapes him and he folds over, pressing wet searing kisses along your back,

“baby,” he breathes against your spine, “you want me to take care of you there?” massaging the crease where your thighs and ass meet, causing your hole to make a small wet squelch sound each time he spreads you apart. the sound nearly makes him lose his sanity as he practically pleads with you, “let me take care of you, baby, let me make you feel good, hm? i'll go slow, i promise, i'll be gentle.” 

“y-yes please, ‘luc, please,” you whimper out spreading your legs more to make more room for him

“i've got you, sweet girl,” he quickly soothes, “you don't need to beg for me, i'm always right here.” 

he grabs one of the unused pillows by the headboard gently raising your hips to slide the pillow underneath you, positioned perfectly to allow him a clear view of your pussy. diluc uses one hand to spread one thigh apart, the other slides over to your pulsing core, his thumb dipping in between your folds, gathering the slick before tenderly smearing it along your clit. 

you gasp feeling him trace light circles on it, “d-diluc..ngh!” muffling your cries into the pillow as your arms wrap around the cushion tightly.  

leaning over again to place pacifying kisses between your shoulder blades, he whispers gently, “shhh baby, relax. just feel me.”

the hand gripping your thigh slides forward, grabbing the meat of your ass and kneading the muscles while keeping you spread open for him. diluc sitting back up to watch your little hole gush and twitch at his treatment, captivated by the way it seemingly begs him to stuff it with his fingers, his tongue, his cock, anything. 

your needs always coming before his, he slides his hand away from gripping your ass to softly rub at your entrance before sinking middle two fingers down to his knuckle, other thumb still toying at your clit. your moans ringing through the room as your head lifts up in surprise from his intrusion but you quickly bury your face into the pillow once more when he begins to slowly thrust in and out, his fingers gently massaging your fluttering walls.

he really tried to stay at a slow pace. really wanted to take his time with you, bring you gentle waves of mind melting pleasure rather than earth-shattering orgasms. wanted to maintain the tranquil air in order to provide you with the kind of relaxation you deserve. but both of you are pent up with sexual need due to the previous lack of contact and you’re certain that diluc could use a feather on your clit and your mind would still split in two. besides, how could he say no when his perfect girl sobs broken cries of m-more! mmph! while your hips lift up trying to coax him into going faster and deeper. 

eyes transfixed on your twitchy cunt, lips parted enraptured at the sight, diluc gives your clit a heavier rub while pairing it with a hook of his fingers, abusing that special gummy spot. 

“mmh!! dilu-aah!!” you attempt to warn him, your pussy sucking his fingers in locking them in a vice grip 

“cum, angel. i'm here, i’ve got you.”   

his soothing words of encouragement wash over you like a wave and the coil nestled deep in your tummy snaps, white hot pleasure ripping its way through you. your body surges forward virtually running away from him but diluc follows you, not letting up for a second trying to prolong your high until your hips twitch and buck away from overstimulation. 

gently pulling his fingers away, he slides his hand across your thighs, ass, and sides. massaging at your skin all while leaning over to press loving kisses down your spine, gently guiding you back down from your orgasm. 

diluc’s still desperately trying to ignore the near painful throbs of his suffocating cock, still locked away in his pants. your soft skin glowing radiantly in the candlelight, your soft gasps and breathy moans, the way you gushed and creamed around his fingers- it was all becoming too much for him to bear. crystal clear mind now hazy with only thoughts of you and being inside you.

ever the gentleman, despite the lewd images and desires that flash through his mind’s eye, he 

still prioritizes you. readjusting his position, he stretches his body over your back, his lower half resting lightly on your ass. his forearm coming to rest by your head as he leans his weight against it, his face appearing in front of yours.

“how do you feel, my love?” he checks in on you while his other hand comes up to brush the hair out of your face. 

you peek up at him through blissed out eyes, “thank you, baby. thank you for taking care of me.” you whisper to him. 

he gives you a warm smile, his eyes filled with so much love and adoration for you it could bring you to tears. 

“thank you for allowing me to take care of you,” he replies as he leans in to kiss your lips. 

mind swimming in a post-high fog, you're desperate to feel more of him. the feeling of his lips softly pressed against yours makes you dizzy with need as you reach a hand to grasp at his shirt, tugging him towards you. gentle, slow kisses quickly turn urgent as tongues poke out and teeth teasingly bites the other’s lip. 

breathlessly seeking out for more of him you push your hips back, dragging your bare pussy against the bulge of his pants. “want you, ‘luc. need you.” you whimper against his parted lips. his pupils are blown wide with desperation, lips slightly swollen from biting at them to keep his urges at bay, cheeks flushed pink- diluc’s thankful for the dim lighting because he knows he looks like a fucked out wreck.

“i know, darling, me too,” he thickly rasps out. 

kissing your lips once more, he rises up and resumes back to his original position of kneeling between your legs. his hands quickly undo the button and zipper, tugging his pants just low enough for his heavy cock to spring out. the motion causing his leaky tip to brush against your soaking pussy, making both of you gasp at the sensation. 

feeling a little impatient, you rock your hips back, capturing his cock between his abs and your slopping pussy.   

“a-aah,” diluc groans at the feeling of your perfect cunt rubbing on him.

“i-i got it, baby ugh-” placing both hands on your hips, he stills your hips making you whine at the loss of contact.

“ill do it all for you, love, no need to rush, im here” 

diluc swallows thickly before lining up his swollen tip to your twitchy entrance.

sliding in torturously slow, his pace forces you to feel every ridge and curve of his thick cock while he feels every inch of your impossibly tight gummy walls.

finally bottoming out, tip kissing your cervix and feeling fuller than ever, you bury your face back into the pillow. diluc’s mind is reeling from the vice grip your pussy has on his hard cock, feeling like it's trying to break it in half. giving a shallow experimental thrust proves to be all a little too much for diluc. the feeling of his sensitive cock dragging through your sticky walls forces him to stop all movement, mere seconds away from cumming prematurely.

“f-fuck!” he chokes out a rare curse as he squeezes his eyes shut, teeth grinding together. 

you whine out at the lack of movement, desperate for any sort of friction causing your body to involuntarily shift to feel anything.  

hissing at your movement, diluc’s hands grip your hips tightly, “h-hold on, darling, just-just give me a second-mmh”

you turn your face away from the pillow to gulp down some fresh air, trying to tame your mind into thinking about anything else other than the slight burn of being stretched out.

after a few more moments, diluc begins to thrust again. this time pulling out a little bit more before shoving his cock guts deep.

“mmph-! ‘luc!” you cry out

the pillow angles your hips up perfectly, allowing his cock to nudge that little spot with deadly accuracy with every thrust. he knows neither of you can last very long, his mind reeling at the feeling of your pussy trying to swallow him whole. 

“ha-ah-! harder, baby, mmph-! please! need it,” you beg, lifting your head up from your pillow creating a deeper arch in your back. 

grunts punctuate each one of his thrusts as he fucks you like a feral man, something that only happens when his desperation for you completely clouds his mind.  

feeling your gushy walls pulse and clench around him, diluc knows your moments away from cumming.

“c-clo..ngh-! m’close!” you try to warn him as the familiar flames of pleasure lick along your spinal cord. 

“i know, baby, i know” diluc’s hand slides away from your hips, his thumb rubbing tight circles on your clit making you cry out.

“cum, pretty girl, i've got you, need you to cum” he pants out, his hips stuttering signaling his own impending orgasm.

two more harsh circles on your clit and youre having to bury your head into the pillow once more to muffle out the scream diluc pulls from you. 

feeling your pussy clench down on his throbbing dick he couldn't help but follow you over the edge. a low throaty moan is ripped from him as he shoots white ropes deep into your twitching hole, his body subconsciously thrusting his cum further into your womb.

slumping over, he rests his forehead on your back as both of you try to catch your breath, half-hard cock still plugged inside you making sure your pussy doesnt leak a single drop.

you hum out a purr of content, fucked out pussy still twitching around him from the aftershocks.

“thank you, mmh, needed that so much, needed you so much.”

lifting his head up from his resting spot on your back, he stretches up his body to smear lazy kisses on the tops of your shoulders.

“i know, my love. words cannot describe the ache that came from yearning for you.”

you hum in agreement, sighing dreamily as diluc continues to lay worshiping kisses along every inch of skin he can reach. 

“y’know, you're a very good masseuse. should do a side business in it or something,” you tease.

huffing out a laugh diluc playfully nips at your skin, “my massage parlor is open to you and you only, darling. you say the word and ill set up shop for you anywhere.” 

#WHEW #goji's.thots˚｡⋆୨୧˚ #diluc #diluc x reader #genshin #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #diluc ragnivindr x reader

[moonlightspencie]

Everything Goes Wrong

Description: A few bouts of bad luck aren’t all that bad.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x gn!Reader

Warnings: none. this is straight fluff

Word Count: 2.4k

The case had been a hard one, especially in the dead of winter in North Dakota. Not only had we been working tirelessly for a week and a half, but the cold had pretty much knocked me on my ass. I was sure I could say the same for the rest of the team, too. We were groggy and exhausted by the end of it.

Not to mention, we were all a little irritable with the fact that the hotel had screwed up our sleeping arrangements, leaving many of us pairing up in rooms that didn’t exactly accommodate two people.

I didn’t exactly pull the short end of the stick, getting paired up with Hotch this time around, but we definitely all were over having roommates. I needed alone time desperately a few times over the course of the time we spent, and never got it. I couldn’t have been the best person to room with considering how snappy I could get.

Then, right as we thought we were going home, plans changed again.

“You’re kidding,” Derek said as we stepped out of the local precinct.

We looked around at the snow pouring out of the sky. We could hardly see a few feet ahead of us.

“How are we supposed to get home in this?” Emily asked, groaning. “I hate the winter.”

Hotch let out a harsh breath. “Let’s try to get back the hotel, at least. I’ll call and see if we can take off, but don’t pack up yet.”

We were a chorus of annoyance as we trudged to the SUVs. It was a hard drive back, and I was more than thankful I wasn’t the one trying to drive in this. Our five minute drive to the hotel took thirty. The roads were a mess, and visibility only got worse as the minutes ticked by. It was a miracle we made it back at all.

Though, as expected, halfway through the ride Hotch got word that we would be staying the night again. Nobody took that news real well.

I sighed as I stretched out on the mattress almost an hour later. It felt more than good to finally rest after a full day on my feet. I couldn’t wait until it was my turn in the shower. I could practically feel the hot water soothing my sore muscles already.

Suddenly, silence fell over the room. It was already quiet, save for the sound of running water, but now… Something was off. Literally turned off.

I stood up, walking towards the heater with hopes that this wasn’t what was wrong. I should have known better. As my hand reached out to feel the warm air rushing out, there was nothing. I sighed heavily, retreating back to the bed to take a seat once more.

It was several minutes until Hotch was walking out of the bathroom, a towel around his shoulders, dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt. At least he looked comfortable before I had to deliver the news.

He took one look at me and knew something had happened.

“What is it?” he asked, voice exasperated.

I gave half a smile, nodding towards the heater in the room.

“I think we might be sleeping without heat.”

He furrowed his brow, doing the same thing I’d just done. He groaned quietly when he, too, felt no warm air against his hand. He mumbled something about calling the front desk, but judging by his facial expressions alone, there wasn’t much they could do about it at the moment.

He hung up the phone, shaking his head.

“I’m sorry. First we don’t have enough rooms and you have to get stuck with me, and now this. This is ridiculous,” he huffed a sigh, looking around the room.

“It’s alright. You didn’t choose this place, and you certainly didn’t make, well,” I paused, gesturing around vaguely, “all of this happen.”

He shrugged, reaching up to rustle his wet hair with the towel around his shoulders as he stepped past me. I stood for a moment, just watching as he sat on the edge of the mattress. Then, I decided now was as good a time as ever for a hot shower, in hopes that the water would still be warm.

It was.

I got out of the bathroom almost an hour later to find Hotch already asleep in bed. For him to immediately hit the hay proved that we’d worked too hard on the case. I snuck into bed next to him after shutting out the remaining lights, curling into the comforter for some warmth. The cold seeping into the room from the broken heater was getting a little bit noticeable, but luckily for me, he definitely ran hot. I realized it the second the warmth under the blankets hit me. I effectively passed out within a few minutes.

The next morning was especially warm as I woke before my alarm went off. The heater must’ve kicked back on sometime in the night. I went to stretch, but found it much more difficult to do than I had anticipated.

I looked down to see Hotch curled up against me, and my eyes immediately widened. I swallowed a lump in my throat that formed quickly. I certainly hadn’t been expecting to see him like this, with a strong arm holding me to him. It was… attractive?

It would be a lie to say I’d never noticed him before. Who couldn’t? Even if he somehow didn’t catch an eye the second he walked into a room, he just had an aura around him. Some kind of presence that could pull a person in before they knew what was happening.

But, now, in the same bed with his arm draped over my stomach and his breath against my neck… This was a whole new feeling.

It was butterflies and warm cheeks and— something that I probably shouldn’t feel while next to my boss. But, then again, he definitely shouldn’t be cuddling with a subordinate. We were both a little guilty.

He shifted in his sleep, his arm around me moving a bit until his fingers were just under the hem of my shirt. Cuddling was one thing, but if I felt his hand on much more of my stomach, I felt I might combust.

“Hotch,” I whispered.

He didn’t budge.

“Hotch,” I said, a little louder this time. “Hey.”

He shifted again, this time squeezing his eyes together a little harder.

“Time to wake up,” I said, my hand on his arm.

His eyes slowly opened, though they suddenly snapped open when he realized where he was. He pushed himself off of me, quickly glancing over me to confirm he really was doing what he thought he was.

“I’m sorry,” he rushed out.

“It’s alright. It was cold last night,” I said quickly, trying to soothe the nerves that were obviously eating at him. “At least it warmed up this morning.”

He shook his head as he stood from the bed, running a hand through his hair quickly. I swallowed, knowing he felt like he crossed a line.

“I really don’t mind,” I tried again.

“We should be downstairs soon,” he replied, glossing over my attempts. “I’ll be out soon.”

He walked into the bathroom without much of a glance in my direction. I huffed out a breath, quickly getting dressed before I heard the water in the sink stop. He opened the door right as I sat on the edge of the mattress again, hardly catching my eye as he did.

“Hotch,” I called, determined to get his attention.

He hummed in response, immediately ruffling through his bag as if there was something he was actually looking for. I stood, taking a few steps in his direction.

“Can you at least listen to me?”

I watched as his shoulders dropped with the breath he let out. He straightened, turning to face me.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, not meeting my eyes again.

“I’ve already told you it’s fine. You really need to take my word for it.”

“I was practically on top of you,” he said, looking at me at last.

Unfortunately, he finally looked right as my cheeks were heating up a tad. I didn’t expect that innocent of a phrase to have any effect on me, but apparently my brain had other ideas.

“You didn’t mean to. It was freezing last night, and we were kind of forced to share a bed.”

He was quiet again.

I continued, “Besides, when have I been the type to hide my emotions that well? If I was upset you would’ve known immediately. Honestly, you were keeping me warm.”

He cracked a small smile, though he tried to hide it.

“I promise I was okay with it. Really.”

He nodded. “Alright. Just— Don’t report me to HR.”

I laughed. “Deal.”

Half an hour later, the team was waiting in the lobby of the hotel for news on our travel arrangements. Hotch and Morgan had gone off to figure it all out, leaving the rest of us to sip on coffee and watch the blizzard outside.

“Well, technically, the blizzard ended 4 hours ago. Now, it’s really just a heavy snow,” Reid stated, hardly glancing away from the magazine in his hands.

Prentiss rolled her eyes, looking towards me for some kind of understanding. I smiled at her, sipping at my coffee. We heard voices soon thereafter coming towards our small group. Hotch and Morgan walked up, chatting quietly.

“We should be able to take off within the next few hours,” Hotch stated, glancing around at us. “I’ll be getting a call when they’re ready. Until then, let’s get lunch and make sure we’re packed up and ready to go.”

“Eating on the company dollar?” I asked with a smirk.

He looked at me, a small smile on his face and… a bit of a blush on his cheeks?

“Yes. So, make sure you all decide on someplace good.”

Now, when I looked back at Prentiss, she was the one with a smile on her face. One that wasn’t sympathetic in the slightest. I knew what was happening in that head of hers from the twinkle in her eye alone.

I started walking towards the elevator, knowing she’d follow me, but still hopeful that maybe she’d leave it be. My former assumption was correct.

She caught up just as the doors started shutting, crossing her arms as she stood next to me.

“So,” she started.

“So?”

“What was that?”

I sighed. “What was what?”

She quirked a brow when I looked at her. I shook my head, looking away again.

“You know what. I’ve got to say, I never expected to see Hotch blushing. What did you do to him?”

I chuckled. “I didn’t do anything.”

“Oh? Who did?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” I asked, stepped forward as the doors of the elevator opened on our floor.

I hoped that line would shut her up for the time being, but that was once again wishful thinking. She practically chased me down the hall.

“You’re not getting away that easy.”

“Ugh,” I groaned. “Nothing actually happened.”

“He was smiling. And blushing.”

“You ever think it’s just because I’m charming?”

“No.”

I made a sour face, finally reaching my door. She raised a brow, giving me a proud smirk.

“I’ll find out, you know?”

“You’re sure about that?”

She shrugged. “Pretty sure.”

“Sure about what?” Hotch asked, walking up on us.

I looked away quickly, hoping to catch Emily’s eye before she said something she shouldn’t. Luckily for me, she got some sense in her head at the last second.

“Nothing. Just can’t pass up an opportunity to tease her.”

He raised a brow. “Right. Well, pack up. Sooner we’re done here, the sooner we can eat.”

She nodded once, sending me a quick wink before she turned and walked towards her own door. I finally unlocked the door, walking inside with Hotch hot on my heels. We silently packed the rest of our things, though neither of us had really unpacked all that much to begin with. He finished first, standing near the door to wait for me rather than leaving for the lobby. I glanced over my shoulder as I put my toiletries bag in the suitcase.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Just about.”

He hummed. “Prentiss was bothering you, huh?”

“When isn’t she?”

“What about?”

I shrugged. “I don’t even really know.”

He chuckled as I turned around. “You’re not a great liar.”

Maybe I liked him better when he was being shy about being all over me. He seemed a little too self confident now.

“Says you,” I replied with raised brows.

We made it to lunch in one piece, deciding that even though the roads were mostly cleared now, we’d stick close by.

Prentiss nudged me a few times during lunch, trying to get information out of me, but I refused. Though, it certainly didn’t help that I found myself looking at Hotch much more often than I usually would.

Maybe I’d had a small crush on him before, but now my brain wouldn’t stop reminding me of it. Every time he laughed or talked or moved or breathed. He was stuck in my head. It was ridiculous.

Embarrassment really came when I looked at him again only to find him looking at me. He quirked a brow as my eyes widened a bit at being caught.

Emily definitely caught that interaction.

I shook my head at her as she teased me, definitely noticing the self-satisfied smirk Hotch tried to hide at the interaction. He knew. Bastard.

We started the leave the restaurant when we got the okay from our pilot, but I didn’t get far before I felt a hand on my arm keeping me behind the others. I turned.

“I’d like to see you in my office when we get back,” he said with a quirked brow.

“What about?”

“We’re not sharing a room anymore, I need somewhere where I can speak to you in private.”

“You going to try to cuddle me again if I agree to be alone with you?”

“Not yet,” he replied, a smile barely there on his face. “Maybe next time. We’ll have to see how that talk goes when we’re home.”

I nodded, hiding a smile of my own. “Deal.”

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x gender neutral reader #aaron hotchner fluff #gender neutral reader

[cherryredstars]

1K Prompts

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x gn!artist!reader

Warnings: Fluff

Summary: The beauty in art. 

A/N: Based on this request.

Word Count: 1.2K (Unedited)

He was more than just displeased. 

He was tired and aching, muscles sore from a long day. The ache became more prominent as he was forced to hold his ridiculous pose. But no matter how much he huffed and puffed, he would hold it until you gave the okay for him to move. He guessed it wasn’t so bad. From here, he could see your side profile. Could see the lidded look in your eyes as you sketched onto your canvas, mouth slightly parted. Your eyelashes would flutter so beautifully as you blinked, the dying sunlight illuminating your small art room and making your eyes glisten and hair shiny. You could produce beautiful art, but Miguel would never find anything more beautiful than you in the process. 

Another one of his huffs caught your attention, and you turned to him with a smile and laughter in your voice. “Miguel, I told you it would take a while. Stop complaining!”

He glared at you teasingly, shifting again but stopping when you glared back, “Can’t we just continue again tomorrow? I’m tired.”

Sympathy filled your eyes and you gave him another small smile, “I’m almost done. A few more minutes, I promise.” 

Miguel sighed, staying in his position obediently. True to your word, you sketched a few more lines onto the canvas before thanking him. His muscles relaxed instantly, going to leave your art room to go to bed, but was stopped at the door when you gave him a quick kiss to his lips and thanked him again. He hummed against your lips, his body sagging as he told you not to stay up too late working. You gave him a dismissive wave of your hand and he went to bed. 

____________________________________

For the next few weeks, every second of Miguel’s free time at home was spent in your art studio. You had insisted. Something about the handiness of having a live model to reference when it came to shadows and lighting and everything and anything under the sun. It was definitely better than posing, seeing as he was allowed to just lounge on your studio couch and do whatever he needed to do. It did get annoying every now and then when he had something important to work on, forcing him to carry things from his home office into your studio and then back out at the end of the session. But it brought a smile to his face every time he complained and you whined, “Please? I just want to spend time with you too. I like spending time with you.”

He likes spending time with you too. 

Today was one of the rare days where Miguel didn’t have anything to work on. He simply laid on the couch, watching you work. Your brush was feather light on the canvas, picking into a pile of paint and transferring the coloring onto your work. Every now and then you would clean off your brush, a soft ringing filling the room as the brush handle knocked into the glass of water. The peacefulness made him sleepy, and he picked at a loose thread in your couch pillows. 

“How come you won’t let me look at the painting? Is it bad?” He asked, the last bit covered in teasing. 

You smiled at the canvas, eyes briefly flicking to him before you continued working. “The process of every painting is ugly. That’s why we say ‘Trust the process’.”

Miguel snorted at your answer, clearly dissatisfied. It made you laugh and you shook your head as you decided that you were done for the night. Maybe a day and a half more of working and you would be done officially. Your eyes flicker over to the calendar you keep on the wall. Perfect.

You walk over to Miguel helping him off the couch and guiding him out of your studio so the two of you can start on dinner before going to bed, giving him a kiss on the cheek. 

“Trust me, it’ll be worth the wait.”

________________________________________

It’s snowing, Miguel realizes as he sits in the living room. He can see it behind the tree you have put up, fuzzy white dots falling from the sky. The air smells like your cooking, warm spices filling the house. He can hear you approaching from behind him, and he doesn’t even flinch when your hands suddenly fall to his shoulders.

Your hands massage the muscle absentmindedly, following his gaze outside of the window. “It’s snowing,” You point out, and he hums and repeats it back to you. 

You seem to light up as you stare at it, squeezing his shoulders one last time before approaching the tree. Miguel watches you silently, brow raised in question as you grab one from the back. You check the tag on it to make sure it’s the right one, before walking back over to Miguel. You perch yourself onto his lap, handing him the present.

His arms wrap around your body, holding the wrapped gift in his hands before the two of you. He squeezes you in his arms, shaking the present slightly, before you place our hand over his to stop him. 

“Gifts are supposed to be after dinner, hun.” He reminds you, and you roll your eyes at him. 

“I know. But I think now is the perfect time for you to open it.”

It’s his turn to roll his eyes at you, smiling as he carefully uses a claw to cut through the tap and unfold the decorative paper. From how he opened it, he’s first revealed to the back of a canvas. On the back is your signature and the date, and his fingers trace over it before he slips it over. His breath gets caught in his throat as he stares.

It’s the painting of him that you were working on. He’s in your art room, glowing white highlighting his frame as he lays there. His face is towards the window, where snow is falling. His eyes are shiny, and the smallest smile graces his lips. He traces over each detail with his hand, smiling down at it. 

“You like it?” You ask him, your hands playing with the hair at the nape of your neck. 

He nods, turning to you and leaning up for a kiss that you gladly return. You’re smiling against his lips, and you kiss the crown of his head when you pull away. Miguel nuzzles into your neck, setting the painting down on the coffee table so he doesn’t break it when he traps you into the couch. You laugh as you fall, Miguel laying on top of you and planting kisses up and down your neck. 

“I love it, thank you.” He whispers into your skin. But then, he’s pinching your sides as he gives you a small glare. “But don’t think I didn’t notice you made me do that stupid pose for nothing!”

You burst out laughing, shoulders shaking as you throw your head back over the arm of the couch. “It wasn’t for nothing! I’ll have you know it was a great inspiration. Kept me very motivated.” 

Miguel raises a brow, a large smile on his face. “Great inspiration was it?”

You nod, smile growing bigger as you agree, “The biggest.”

Miguel hums, nodding his head before he’s tickling your sides until you can't breathe. 

“Inspirational my ass!”

#cherry's requests🍒 #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 x you #spiderman 2099 x reader #atsv miguel #miguel ohara x you #cherry's specials!🍒 #miguel ohara #miguel x reader #miguel spiderverse #miguel o hara #miguel x you #miguel spiderman #spiderman 2099 #astv miguel #miguel atsv #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x y/n #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x reader #atsv

[kitmoas]

and there we offer dove to flame

Summary: Family, no matter how you get them, is the only thing you have at the end of the day

Pairing: WandaNat x Reader

Word Count: about 4.3k

Warnings: Stepmom!Wanda, Dark fic (allusions to murder, witch/dark magic, dark deity), Cult vibes, dub con/dub non con, blood mention (vague blood consumption), strap on use (r receiving), breeding kink, stomach bulge, mommy/daddy kink, bit of degrading and overall just smut

*As usual let me know if I missed anything important*

A/N: Hi! So for all cult vibe stuff, I'm going to leave the translations at the bottom of the fic! numbered just like footnotes :)

***Minors DNI*** ***18+***

Main Master list // Kitmoas | Occult

A heavy sigh leaves your lips as you lean against the counter, the rambunctious laughter from the living room echoes throughout the normally quiet house. Ever since your father remarried, his new wife would always bring home friends after her nights out partying. Their relationship was confusing to say the least; the woman was an extrovert who never liked being home while your dad was anything but a homebody who barely even spoke to the rest of the family. You couldn’t tell if the two were actually in love or if this was all just your father trying to get over your mom’s death but either way you found the entire situation exhausting.

You couldn’t lie that Wanda was one of the most fun people you ever got to be around, and it sometimes made you feel like instead of a stepmom you just got a new friend. She was much younger than your father, but still at least ten years older than you. The two of you spent most of your time together watching movies and baking in the kitchen. A nice enough lady, but definitely not the type you ever saw your father marrying. 

Maybe you just had a deep resentment towards him moving on or exhaustion settling in from how busy the house was now but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something seemed off about your step mother. It was something you kept to yourself, refusing to act like an angry teenager while you were a senior in college, but you weren’t ever going to let yourself feel completely at ease around Wanda until you were satisfied. Instead you let yourself enjoy your time both with your father and his wife, along with whatever new people came into the house, coming to terms that one day you would learn to be as happy as he was.  

Starting the walk towards your room, you catch a glimpse of Wanda and her best friend–Natasha. Leaning against a pillar, you stop to watch the two giggle like school girls on the couch as they sip wine. The ginger was intriguing, something about her always drew you near. She was over at the house a lot, even when your step mother wasn’t home. It allowed the two of you to become friends, talking about different things and later finding out that you both enjoy dance and sports. It was a bit strange to see someone her age want to hang out with a person barely in their twenties, but you wouldn’t complain. 

For a moment you almost turn around and go to hang out with the two, attempting to ignore your gut feeling that something is off with them because you just want to be friends with them. The exhaustion makes your muscles sore and your brain slow so you instead just drag yourself up the stairs. It feels like it takes forever to get ready for bed, even with you skipping half of your normal routine. You pass your father’s room, door cracked as always and you peek in. He’s sound asleep, but the loud muffled conversation makes the empty side of the bed even more obvious. 

Your soft cotton sheets are a welcome coolness as you finally settle into bed, your phone dim as you languidly scroll through tiktok. Eyes fluttering shut you’re glad as your phone slips from your grip that you had already plugged it in for the night. Wiggling deeper into your cocoon of blankets, you can feel sleep dragging you under. 

Consciousness hits you before you are able to open your eyes, but the feeling of arousal lays deep in your bones. Shivers from the air circulating the room fights against the way your body overheats, radiating from the warmth boiling in your lower belly. Squirming about trying to get comfortable, your legs hit something weirdly squishy. 

Freezing you slowly retract your foot, trying to prepare yourself to face whatever monster is in your bed. The sight of Natasha, sitting cross legged with her eyes closed and murmuring to herself, wasn’t what you were expecting but it did make you panic. Stammering you try to speak, your throat dry, as you stare wide eyed at the ginger. “U-uh um…N-Natasha did y’need somehin?” 

You watch as the older woman barely reacts to your question, only slightly moving her head as she continues her muted chanting. Unsure what to do, you try slowly moving your body around, a feeble attempt to put some space in between the two of you when her hand shoots out to grip your leg tightly. “I wouldn’t move and ruin everything if I were you, голубь.” Her normally bright emerald eyes look almost black, even with the moonlight illuminating her face. 

Her nails are digging into your thigh, almost like a bird’s talon gripping its prey. Barely looking at you, you watch as a crazed smile spreads slowly across her face. The shine of her teeth as her tongue flicks across them is distracting, but you can’t help the whimper that falls from your lips. It’s almost inaudible, and incredibly pitiful, but it’s enough to get her attention. Head snapping up, tilting as her eyes widen and focus on you. 

She stares at you, silence wrapping around the two of you like a warm blanket. Her mouth relaxes, softening into a playful grin, as she reaches for your face. “Don’t be scared, pretty girl, I promise I’m not here to hurt you. You’re so precious, and just so perfect. I could never harm you.” You know you’re shaking, involuntarily and it’s making you mad to show such a weakness, but it’s almost like she doesn’t care. 

Natasha’s body is looming over you, pushing you farther back into the mattress, soft and your usual place of comfort suddenly stripped of consolation. You can’t quite tell if fear is what you feel or if it’s something else you can’t place, but you know that your breath is caught in your throat as you stare helplessly up at her. Her free hand is trailing along your body, fingernails lightly scratching as she maps out each spot on your skin. Your mouth opens and closes a few times, trying to find the words to even try to get her to stop but for some reason you can’t speak. 

Pushing your shirt up, the ginger lets her cold hand cup your bare breasts as she internally chuckles as your torso breaks out in goosebumps. She watches through her lashes as you shake your head, a silent plea for her to stop. The hand is gentle, groping you as if handling a fragile sculpture. Natasha’s forehead leans against your collarbone, lips grazing against your skin as she mumbles. "Слава Чернобогу - славному деятелю, на которого мы возлагаем величайший трибун и страх. Хвала тому, кто дарует нам кровь, в которой обретается наша свобода. В честь тебя мы приносим самое чистое искупление". (1) 

You aren’t sure what she is saying, but it sounds scary and she’s making small noises each time she takes a breath. It’s jarring, making your skin crawl each time. Shrill and quick, the shriek is accompanied with random grunting and your brain cannot make sense of any of it. Panic begins to take over your body, flight winning over fight, you thrash as you try to escape the cage of limbs and weight of her body. It’s entirely too easy for her to overpower you, manipulating your body until you're laid out beneath her. Limbs flopped out to the side as she runs her fingers along your messy locks, smoothing them out as she settles comfortably with her knee between your thighs. “You were doing so good, don’t make me angry.” Her voice is soothing, but the threat still lingers in the air. 

The hand she tangles in your hair almost feels loving, caressing the back of your head she keeps you where she wants you. Her knee grinding against your covered center as she holds your head, cooing at you as the tears build up in your eyes. You’re begging her to stop but it’s almost like she doesn’t hear a single word you are saying. Wanda’s name is tumbling from your lips before you can stop it, as if you were reverting back to calling for your mother when you had a nightmare, hoping that she would help. 

You feel weak and helpless, something about this situation feels different. No matter how your body reacts, the arousal still simmering under your skin from whatever she did to you before you awoke, you felt betrayed and you couldn’t stop this fear of the older woman you had confided in. Throat raw as you sob, pleas for help and your step mother’s name tumbling from your lips almost incoherently, head thrashing about as you try to break free from her grasp. “Please just let me go! I won’t tell anyone, just please stop!” 

Your begging does nothing to deter the ginger, if anything she just snickers down at you. Pressing her leg more firmly in between your thighs, she can’t stop the taunt that falls from her mouth. “If you want me to stop you better stop grinding your needy cunt on my thigh, like the perfect little slut you are.” Her mouth is slightly open, a mocking smile ghosts along her lips as her tongue traces her own teeth. The forest green eyes sparkle in the moonlight, a mischievous glint as she perks up when a whimper tumbles out of you. “Call for your Mommy again, go ahead. I know she would love to see you like this.” 

Wide eyes filled with confusion as you open your mouth to scream her name, but a quiet throat clearing in the doorway gets your attention. Natasha’s hand slips from your hair to squish your cheeks as she moves your head to look over. There stands the brunette, leaning casually against the frame, her dark silhouette stark against the light from the hallway. “Did you need me, detka?” She pushes herself up, gliding gracefully over to you. Climbing onto the bed, she sits near your head. 

Her soft hands push her best friend’s off your face as she cups your jaw, cooing and fussing over you as she looks for any sign of distress or pain. You’re pushing away from Natasha, rolling over to crawl towards your step mother and trying to nuzzle your face as close to her as possible. She is tugging you forward now, almost as enthusiastic as you, and safety sinks into your mind the farther you get from the ginger’s preying hands. So focused on finding comfort in her touch, you weren’t really aware how she was manipulating your body but it was her slipping her fingers into your mouth that shocked you. 

Wanda is shushing you, the softness of her touch turning harsh and hostile as you begin to struggle against her. The digits in your mouth are thrusting vigorously, gagging you each time you try to bite down or pull away. Chastising you, the brunette scrunches her nose each time she feels your jaw tense.  “My little dove, please don’t make this difficult. We don’t want to hurt you, you’re so precious to us.” Sweet and soothing, her voice starts to settle your urge to thrash around. Fingers slipping down to your jaw, hooking along your chin painfully, she holds you in place as she slips a harness over your head. Teeth clinking against the large metal o ring, she’s clipped the gag into place and is inspecting it before you can even fight. 

Nails sink into your hips, effortlessly pulling your body up and backwards against what you can only guess is Natasha’s body. She’s guiding you to grind back onto the bulge that the ginger had been hiding this whole time. With your mouth wide open you no longer can muffle the moan, the high pitch sound bringing delighted smiles to both of the older women’s faces. Natasha leans down, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “Do you hear how pretty you sound? We haven’t even properly touched you, and you’re already dripping onto the sheets.” 

You try to crawl away but Wanda wraps her hand around your throat, a concerned look on her face as she runs her free hand through your hair. “Where are you going princess? I wouldn’t struggle too much, Daddy’s cock will hurt much worse if you fight it.” Your flimsy panties are ripped away from your body, the sound of the fabric tearing fills the room and you can feel the regret of wearing basically nothing to bed. 

Smooth silicone rubs through your folds, and the shame fills your body when you subconsciously grind back onto it. Flinching when the ginger spits on you, rubbing the tip of her strap in it as she watches you shiver. “Don’t worry, we don’t want to break you, love. We just want to break you in.” 

Not even a second later, giving you no time to prepare, Natasha is shoving herself into you. You expect it to be painful, stretching around the largest thing you’ve ever taken, but after all the teasing your body is more than ready to take whatever you’re given. The older woman growls, a possessive sound, when she watches your cunt stretch and suck her cock in like you were made for her. "Благословите эту голубку, ибо она - та, кого мы сочли достойным поклонения". (2) 

The ginger’s thrusts are anything but gentle from the moment she sinks her entire length in you, hips moving at an unforgivable pace. Wanda is smiling widely at you, fingers tracing the leather digging into your cheeks. Smudging the drool that collects there all over your chin and throat, “You look so pretty like this. Your Daddy has barely even started and you’re already so fucked out.” The brunette curls her fingers into your open mouth, nails dragging across wet metal behind your teeth. 

Moans and whimpers falling from your lips mostly sound gurgled and mumbled around your step-mother’s fingers, eyes fluttering as you struggle to keep up with the way the ginger is thrusting into you. “P’ease is t’muc too.” Words slurring, voice cracking and breaking as you try to beg for relief. 

Wanda just giggles at you, almost sympathetically, as she shakes her head. “I’m sorry little one, I know you’re overwhelmed but we can’t stop.” Her wet hand slaps gently against your cheek. “You’ll thank us after.” You can hear mumbles behind you, each word punctuating the snap of her hips as she drives her length into you. It makes your head bobble and your thighs shake, but you can’t lie anymore as you feel the heat almost boiling over. Nothing has every felt as good as the hands ghosting along your body, and the strap stretching your pussy with a subtle burn.

Drool soaked fingers slip down your body, reaching between your thighs. She lets the way your body is naturally moving with Natasha’s thrust to graze your clit, throbbing and neglected. She giggles as she watches your hips jump each time she even slightly rubs at it, turning her head to nip at your ear lobe. "С каждым движением мы предлагаем тебя, чистейшее из существ, величайшему из богов. Прародитель всех, благослови невинность, чтобы принять подношение семьи. " (3) 

Your head falls pathetically against Wanda’s shoulder, your body barely able to hold up against the ginger’s rutting. You could feel the wetness coating your thighs as it dripped down, soaking into the sheets your knees are rubbing against. The longer the two older women manipulate your body the harder it is to think, to speak–almost like they drained all abilities. Vision blurry and your skull feels like it's going to explode, babbling out to the others. 

Neither care, focused on each other and their goal now. Natasha can tell just by how difficult it is to move inside you that you’re close, your cunt clench each time Wanda’s fingers pinch at your clit. The two look entirely too proud and smug as they realize just how perfect you are, the latter biting into your shoulder to leave a few marks on your otherwise untouched unmarked skin. 

The way your thighs shake and the overwhelming rush of arousal scares you, panic filling your body. “Mommy i- please. I’m” Your voice is quiet, a muted wail as you try to get their attention. “Daddy I can’t, it’s.. Im gonna–” You weren’t sure what was happening but the older women didn’t care, smiling widely at each other as Wanda pulled away to look you in the eyes. Her normal bright green no more instead blown out, black in color, as her entire body vibrates. She’s panting as she stares at you, and you don’t understand what’s happening. 

She cups your cheek, wiping the tears that are forming away. “Let go baby, Mommy is here to catch you. Show Daddy how good she’s been fucking you. Show her how good she is at taking care of all your pretty little needs.” 

Natasha tumbles forward, wrapping one arm around your waist as she roughly thumbs at your clit. Rutting into you, hitting your soft spot over and over again. The ginger is grunting into your ear, broken whimpers as she works to drag you over the edge. “Your tight little cunt is so addicting. So puffy and soft, dripping and clenching around me like a needy selfish whore. I don’t think I’m going to be able to ever share you with the rest of the group. Maybe you’ll just be our little pet forever.” 

Wanda moans, audibly, at that line. Biting her bottom lip as she leans in, kissing you. It’s sloppy and chaotic, the o ring prevents you from doing anything but letting the brunette take what she wants. “Our little thing to pamper, all you need to do is sit there and let us fill that pretty belly as many times as we want.” She’s leaning her forehead against yours, watching you struggling to even keep your fuzzy eyes open. 

In your barely coherent mind her words just push you closer to the edge, a whine as you struggle to not cum. Natasha’s hand splays across your stomach, imagining what it’ll be like when she can feel more than just her cock inside of you. “You’ll be so pretty filled with our baby. I don’t care whose cum it is that I have to fuck into you, they will be ours. You’ll get to feed them and love them while Mommy and Daddy take care of you.” Her calloused hand is pressing down on your lower belly, moaning as she feels her strap moving inside you. A choppy whine falling from her lips is all it takes to push you over the edge; your entire body shaking violently as your orgasm rushes through you.  

The heat is spreading along your body, bouncing between each place they touch keeping you in a state of euphoria. Each time they speak you can feel yourself leak, tightening around the strap. Clawing desperately at the sheets, you start feeling an overwhelming pressure building in your lower belly. No matter your attempts to move away, the older women keep you exactly where they want you. 

Natasha is rutting into you with no real care in the world, her forehead between your shoulder blades as she puts her entire body into forcing you over the edge a second time. If it weren’t for her hands on either side of your body, you know for a fact that you would have crumbled under the pressure and force she’s moving. You can barely register the way her teeth scrape against your sensitive skin as she mutters,  "Великий праотец, с освященным источником мы клянемся принести грядущим поколениям". (4)

Wanda’s hand returns to your throat, wrapping her fingers tightly around as she pulls your head back up. Slipping her thumb into your mouth, she presses it against your tongue. Your moans and words all become gibberish as your step mother leans in, licking a stripe up your cheek. As her lips meet your temple you hear the sound again, raucous and jarring, it vibrates against your skull as it tumbles over and over from the older woman’s mouth. 

Natasha’s moans are getting higher in your ear, more breathy as her hips move more erratically. Her nails are digging into your skin, and you’re sure that she’s going to leave marks. The way the two sway you between them leaves you disoriented, mind swirling as you try to keep up.   “Cum with Daddy, cum with me malyshka” 

It isn’t until you start feeling a warmth inside you, spreading and coating your insides that you finally do cum a second time. Your orgasm is strong, blinding as it ripples through your body. Even though you’re already shaking intensely, losing the ability to hold yourself up, Natasha has a grip on your hips as she continues to thrust into you. It’s all too much and you want to get away, but Wanda’s is kissing all over your mouth and the only sound you seem to be able to make is filthy moans. 

Stars are exploding behind your eyes as your head bounces around, body just trying to take the thrusts that the ginger is still forcing you to endure. The sheets below you hold a puddle of cum and you hate how sticky it makes you feel where you have half fallen into. You can’t really feel your body anymore, just the warmth inside you and the way your clit jumps. You can feel how tender and raw your pussy is even as Natasha lazily ruts into you. 

"Родина тебя, воинство, в котором наш храм дарует вечную жизнь. Прими дар вечного происхождения, стремления вперед и связанную с ним благожелательность. Жизнеспособность во всем, в чем господствует наше божество, и изгони разврат, откуда он мог прийти. За что праотец, избранный патриарх, панигирировал". (5) The ginger’s voice is soft, spoken against the back of your neck as she leans her entire weight on you. The way she holds you allows you to slip deeper into the fuzzy feeling in your brain, finally taking comfort in the way the two dote over you. 

Twitching and barely grumbling, you whine as you feel Natasha pulling out of you but it’s quickly silenced when she pops something into you. Forcing your eyes open you search for your step mother but Wanda is already standing, excusing herself as she says something about finishing up outside. You try to focus on her blurry figure as she walks away, but your eyes are still heavy and your brain can’t even understand how to move your body voluntarily yet. 

The ginger wraps you up in her arms as she sets you on a bean bag in the corner of your room, a blanket falling to lay over your limp form. Her lips graze your forehead for a moment as she rubs her thumb along your cheek. You pathetically watch her walk around the room, cleaning up, through hooded eyes. Curiously you watch as she carefully picks up the discarded strap and places it in a weird looking bag before she strips the bed. She walks over to some candles that you didn’t notice in the corner, settling the ruined sheet in the middle before kneeling near the crescent shape. 

She’s still kneeling and rocking by the time that Wanda comes back, slightly perking up at that. Your step mother kneels quickly, pouring a thick dark ruby liquid over the sheets as she adds her own chants. She moves hastily and is crossing the floor towards you before your brain can catch up. “Do you want to be on the bed to drink your hot chocolate Little One?” The lazy nod makes her smile and she slips the bottle into her back pocket, lifting you with ease. 

The new sheets are soft and dry, and you settle into them quickly before Wanda slides behind you. Letting you curl up into her warmth and she hands you what looks like a sippy cup. “I didn’t want you to spill it baby.” She disregards you as you whine about being too old, bringing the bottle to your lips as she glares down at you. 

As you drink you observe the woman, there's a shine of sweat along her brow and a few cherry splatters along her collarbone. She catches your confusion and shushes you, running her fingers along your body and tapping the plug that is still inside you. Even though you have so many questions, and the hot cocoa tastes funny, you can feel your brain and body start to go slack. All your thoughts quickly drain from your mind as you feel all your tenseness leaving your muscles. 

Natasha finally slips on the bed, pulling gently at the plug inside you to make sure nothing leaked out. Ignoring your whimper, continuing to play with the only thing keeping the cum inside you, "В этот день мы дарим нашей заветной звезде величайшую капитуляцию, на которую способна новая кровь. Обмен на одного, жизнь, которую нужно отдать, на жизнь, которой нужно быть.” (6) Her hands rub along your thighs, taking note of every mark the two left on your body. “Чтобы быть посвященными тебе как подношение, возлюбленный, свяжи наши души не только со священной землей, по которой ты ходишь, но и с каждым местом, где почва пропитана благословенной кровью наших предков.”(7)  Biting her bottom lip, the ginger gulps as she tries to keep her emotions in check as she finishes. ”Даруй благодать не только высшим из высших, но и прадеду, который, учитывая знания твоего мозга, является нашей дорогой в вечность и вечность в твою честь."(8) 

The ginger voice fades out, body slowly coming to a halt after she had begun to rock. Allowing the silence to lay heavy in the room, she watches the candles flicker before they quickly extinguish without a trace. Natasha finally directs her attention to Wanda, bright forest eyes filled with excitement and curiosity. “Is it done? She is ours?” 

The brunette chuckles lightly, watching as your eyes slip closed. Her hand caresses your cheek, humming as you subconsciously lean into her touch. “The family will be pleased. We’ll bring grandfather the next generation with ease.” 

-------------------------------------------------------------------

1- “Unto Chernobog the glorious figure in which we place utmost tribune and fear. Praise to he who gives us the blood in which our freedom is found. We bring forth the most pure atonement in honor of thee.” 

2- “Bless this dove for she is who we deemed worthy of worship.” 

3- “With each movement, we offer thee purest of beings to the greatest of gods. The forefather of all, bless the innocence to receive the family’s offering. ” 

4-  “Great forefather, with the sanctified source, we vow to bring generations to come.” 

5- “The motherland of thee, a host in which our temple grants eternal life. Take the gift of ever derivation, strides forthcoming and bound by benevolence. Vitality in all that our deity prevails and banish depravity from once it may have come. For which the forefather, chosen patriarch, panegyrized.”

6- “On this day, we give to our treasured star the greatest surrender in which new blood can give. An exchange for one, a life to give for a life to be.”

7- “To be dedicated to you as an offering, beloved, bind our souls to not only the sacred ground you walk but each spot in which the soil is soaked with the blessed blood of our ancestors.” 

7- “Give grace to not only the highest of the highs but to the great grandfather whom given the knowledge of your brain, is our road to forever and evermore in your honor.”  

#kitmoas | occult #kitmoas writes #kits kinktober #marvel fanfiction #wanda maximoff #natasha romanoff #marvel wlw #wandanat #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x you #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff x female reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x wanda maximoff #wandanat x y/n #wandanat x reader #dark wanda #dark natasha romanoff #dark natasha romanoff x reader #dark wanda maximoff x reader #dark wanda maximoff #dark wanda x reader #dark wandanat #lesbian #lgbtq fanfiction #lgbtq #kinktober 2022

[tadalyme]

whumptober, day 2

There are many things Finnick Odair is good at. He's good at swimming, good at fighting, good at making knots. Good at baking decently tasty bread. He's also very good at pretending.

It's a skill he's honed throughout his whole life, ever since he was a little child. Pretending that he likes his mother's vegetable casserole. Pretending that he's completely fine when his father leads him to Mags’s house, his hand held in a forceful, painful grip, and proclaims in his booming voice that it would be the greatest honour for his son to train for the Games, right, boy? Pretending that he isn't scared to die and to kill.

Pretending that all the things that are done to his body on a regular basis aren't happening to him.

It’s somewhere past three at night and Finnick is sore and extremely dizzy and in the backseat of a car, coming back from his client. He’s in a car, because despite being just a District whore, he's an expensive one. President Snow doesn’t want anyone else to harm his investments. At least, not anyone not paying.

He’s just glad that it was the only appointment for today, because the guy, a flamboyant man in his thirties, a grandson or a nephew or a step-son of one of the influential Gamemakers, wanted to spice things up a bit in his sex life and made him swallow some colourful tablets before the act itself.

Well, it certainly spiced things up for Finnick, though probably not in a way the man intended to. He spent the whole time hearing the colours, and tasting the sounds, and seeing the images from his past and present all mixed up together.

The man was pounding into him and moaning and exclaiming something animated and probably over-the-top sexual in his shrill voice, but all Finnick could think about were the glistening in the sun tridents and spears and knives, and faces of the dead children, and his late father and ill mother and disappointed sister, and, for some reason, the Capitol's latest obnoxious vogue of inserting precious gemstones into their skin.

He desperately wanted to cry, so he laughed frantically, and he wanted to push the man away from him, too overstimulated, so he willed his muscles to relax.

The lights of the never-sleeping party area of Capitol fly by dizzyingly behind the window and Finnick has to lean onto it in an attempt not to puke. It's got a bit better in the past half hour, but the thoughts are still floating around his brain like dozens of little brightly-coloured butterflies. It’s hard to properly grasp any of them in a sticky daze of disorientation, though.

The car stops near the entrance to the Tribute Centre and he staggers out, swaying on his feet and almost ending up on the pavement. His limbs finally rearrange themselves in the correct order after a few moments and he musters a lazy salute with only some of his usual flourish to the back of the driving away car.

Still performing, even now. Gods, what a mess.

He doesn't know how exactly he reaches the elevator, but he does and the numbers swirl a bit in his eyes before settling down properly on the buttons.

He remembers well the first time he was here.

The thing is, he wasn’t even supposed to participate in the Hunger Games that year. That questionable honour was supposed to go to Jacob Maren, not yet eighteen, but the oldest among the trainees.

Instead, Dorothea, their escort, gracefully put her powdered hand with baby-blue nails, that matched her enormous wig, and pulled out his, Finnick's, name. There was a bit of a standstill after that - Jacob locking eyes with him across their separate pens. Should he volunteer, should he not. Finnick was too young yet but still a Career. In the end, Jacob stayed silent.

Just as well, thought Finnick, pushing through the crowds to the stage and already putting on a brilliant wide smile, I've trained for this, I can win, it'll be easy.

He knows now what his dumb, arrogant younger self didn’t understand back then - that even if you manage to become a victor, the only one who ever wins the Games is the Capitol.

Jacob did go the following year and died to a back-stabbing One girl. And Finnick has spent three years cursing that day and all that led to it.

Gods above, it has only been three years, hasn’t it? It feels much longer than that, so far away, so long ago. Almost like ancient history.

He did kind of make history with that one, didn’t he? The youngest Victor ever. A fat lot of good that did for him.

Fourth floor. He practically falls out of the elevator, only managing to catch onto the wall at the last moment.

Mags, curled up on the couch, perks up at the sound of sliding doors. In the dim lighting of the lounge her silver hair looks like a halo above her head. Ironic. It makes him burst out in a fit of hysterical high-pitched laughter. One would have to completely lose their marbles to call the woman an angel. An angel of death, at best. Some forget it, but she also killed in her Games, the same as all of them. And she's led enough kids to their deaths in the following years. He loves Mags with his whole heart, but she's no saint.

Mags always waits for him on appointment nights. He wishes she didn't see him like this, wishes no-one saw him like this and often snaps at her, but she only tuts in disapproval and keeps doing it. Despite his temper tantrums, he's glad she does.

Mags looks him over and frowns and he's sent down the rabbit hole of memories again.

They approach him the next day after he turns sixteen. The two of them look grim and apologetic and he doesn't know what to make of it.

‘I’m sorry, Finnick, I’m so sorry about what's probably going to happen,’ Mags says and lets out a sigh, sorrowful and tired and world-weary, and he, in a rare moment, is reminded of how old Mags really is, ‘Just… Remember that you can always talk to me, no matter what.' She inclines her head a bit, gesturing at her companion, ‘Or to Delia, if you need someone who truly gets it.'

Delia, who is wringing her hands half a step behind Mags, and looks like she’d rather be anywhere else, glances at him and gives him a bleak, perfunctory nod. He doesn’t know why he would need to or want to talk to her, but anyway it’s quite unlikely that he will take her up on this offer.

Finnick knows Delia, of course he does. Delia, a constantly nervous, twitchy Victor in her forties, teaches knife-throwing, and knife-stabbing, and other knife-related skills to the trainees and has never seemed to be a particular fan of long conversations. She's communicated with them mostly with sharp nods and half-aborted, jittery gestures, always looking on edge and shaky.

Her hands have never ever shaken with a blade in them, though.

Then, he gets the summons to the annual post-Victory tour party and President Snow asks to speak with him in his office after. He's told in detail what he's expected to do, now that he's finally sixteen, and what will happen if he doesn't.

Oh.

Oh.

That's what that meant.

His first appointment with a client is the next day and it's the beginning of the end.

His sister screams at him a few months later, when he returns from one of his trips to the Capitol, ‘They don’t care about you, you stupid boy! Why won’t you understand that! Why the Hell do you keep going there?’

But it’s her who doesn’t understand, who could never understand. He can’t tell Carolyn, he can’t, not just because he doesn’t want her to know what he does, but because he’s not allowed to.

President Snow was quite straightforward about what would happen to his ill mother and his sister with her husband and their baby twins, if he were to tell anyone, even them, anything. So he keeps quiet and let them think the worst of him. The same thing that everyone else does.

(Other than his fellow victors, who are all aware of the work he and the ones like him are made to do, the only person who doesn’t look at him with badly concealed disgust, or jealousy, or fake friendliness, or lust in Four is Annie Cresta. Her eyes (also sea-green, though a few tones lighter than his own) only ever look at him with sympathy and pity these days. He would have absolutely hated being looked at like that not long ago, but now it’s just so goddamn refreshing. He used to find her annoying with her righteousness and softness when they trained to be careers together, thought her weak and kind of cowardly, but maybe there is actually nothing wrong with gentleness and timidity, he ponders.

Of course, it’s hopeless, getting used to even such a small thing. Annie Cresta is a Career. She will go into the Games soon. In a couple of years she will likely be dead.)

Mags approaches him slowly, telegraphing all her movements clearly, trying not to spook him. He must look bad, because she checks his temperature with a hand on his forehead. From her pursed lips and scrunched eyebrows he gathers that it’s not very good.

'What, doctor, am i dying yet?' he ironizes.

'Well, you certainly don't look too lively, boy,' she snaps back,'Sit down, I'll be right back.'

She lets him settle on the couch and leaves to fetch her first-aid kit. They’re not allowed to bring any pills to the Tribute centre, so as to not let tributes get anywhere near them, but she has some other basic supplies. Luckily, today they are no flesh wounds to patch up.

She comes back with a thermometer in her hand. And that’s what sends him over the edge and into hysterical tears, the goddamn thermometer. It’s an old-fashioned but trusty mercury thermometer, very common back in Four, but considered obsolete by Capitol standards.

Finnick, having been many times in the local medical over the past year and a half to get patched up after rough encounters with clients, is intimately familiar by now with Capitol’s high-tech, reliably produced in Three.

She waits a bit before his sobs and shaking subside, finally takes his temperature and asks,'You're burning up. What on earth happened to you?'

'He gave me something, I don't know what,' Finnick replies reluctantly and watches her face twist and her arms cross on her chest. She's staring at him pointedly.

'Do we really have to?' he groans,'I'm almost fine by now. You're only wobbling a bit in my eyes.'

'Come on, up you go,' she pulls him up, surprisingly strong for a seventy-year-old, and leads him to his room, to the bathroom. She walks out again and returns with a glass and a closed water bottle.

She fills the glass with tap water and makes him drink it again and again and then throw up, repeating and repeating it until there's nothing left in his stomach at all.

Then she hands him the water bottle, lightly shoves him in the direction of the needlessly overcomplicated shower and exits.

When he finally emerges into his room he's almost feeling like himself again. Mags is still there, leaning on the frame of his bed. He finds some clothes to sleep in and drops next to her. She hums softly and smooths his hair out, running her fingers through his wet curly locks.

She's been much gentler with him since his Games, but she's taken a fancy to him a long time ago.

He was a bit of a troublemaker as a child, like little boys so often are, always sneaking away to the creek to play on the wet rocky shores, or trying to catch fry with his bare hands, or diving from the pier to see how long he could hold his breath, generally making his mother exasperated. He showed up at home in the late afternoon tired but joyful after a day of exploring with a wide toothless grin, seaweed in his hair and damp dirty patches on his knees.

His father didn’t like that much. So at a ripe old age of seven he’s dumped on Mags’s doorstep, who looks at his father weirdly over Finnick’s head and then takes a look at him, slowly lowers down to his eye-level and grasps his tiny hand with her veiny, old-woman one. ‘Well, well, well, what are we going to do with you, little one?’

She's never been cruel to any of the trainees, definitely not, but she wasn't particularly warm-hearted either. She was kind, but also stern and strict, like a proper trainer. He knows that it's because, despite all the preparations, most of them would die in their Games. She didn't really believe that he would win his Games either.

But he survived and she became more willing to show her affection for him after that. And to him, she, the person who practically raised him, instead of his distant mother and constantly angry father, has always felt the most like a real family, even when she acted all grumpy.

He drifts to sleep, relaxing under the silent watch of the only person in the world he fully trusts.

#whumptober2023 #no.2 #thermometer #delirium #“They don’t care about you.” #hunger games #fic #not graphic non-con #forced prostitution #non consensual drug use #other thg-typical warnings #oh gods how do i tag on here #finnick odair #mags flanagan

[blustalker]

What it's like being roommates with Jeff, Ben, and Toby in a dingy apartment headcanons (platonic)

• Ben would nag you to play video games with him but if he lost he'll get pissed and go in the game and hack it

• Eye drops all over the apartment since Jeff leaves them everywhere and keeps losing it

• Toby and Jeff would try and attempt to cook something. You have to supervise them while they are testing out this waffle maker

• They stuffed it with hot dogs and eggs it wasn't half bad solid meal

----

• You brought your date around the house, beforehand you had to force them to clean the whole place

• Ben shoved all his crap in cabinets and drawers

• Jeff didn't do shit and made more mess

• Toby is the only one who helped but not without complaining the whole time

• Once you and your date came over it was dead silent, no one in sight. You guys were sitting in the living room chatting when the tv turned on by itself

• Oh you knew what was coming suddenly Ben pops out of the tv and crawls out of it. Your date never went there again

• Every time you bring your date over they take turns scaring the shit out of them and track it down on the scoreboard score. Whoever has more scares wins

----

• When you came home upset from whatever happened they tried comforting you.

• They ended up stealing money from a store and y'all spent it all shopping

• Everyone has mood swings so you'll hear shouting here and there

• Music blasting at 3 am from jeff's room

• Bribe eachother with chores or blackmail

• Be careful where you step there might be sharp objects and shit on the ground

• Takes each others clothes after laundry day They accidentally gave each others clothes don't know which is whos

-----

• One of them has a shrine of slashers they really look up to. Ben likes Patrick Bateman, Jeff likes Billy Lenz, and Toby likes Norman Bates

• Need to replace the xbox controllers a lot cause Ben always throws it

• Jeff punches things to take his frustration out so there are a few holes on the walls

• Toby asks you to punch his stomach while doing pull ups cause he thinks it'll make him stronger it really doesn't do anything since he can't feel pain

• Jeff and Toby sometimes bans Ben from video games cause he usually cheats

• Ben and Jeff were play fighting. Jeff got too carried away and accidentally stabbed Ben. Toby called you to go home and deal with them

• Go yell at Ben to take a shower

• If you're going through something and too tired to do chores they'll do it instead

• You all got pet fish but it died a week later. Ben tried giving them Monster

• You once bought one of those cold cases murder mystery to play it with them not even 15 mins in and they got it right. They bet whoever solves it first doesn't have to do any chores and sore losers has to pay for food and do everything in the apartment

• Whenever you play jazz they pretend to be in a horror movie to freak you out

• When you all watch a horror movie they'll be very sarcastic and exaggerate their reactions

• You blackmailed all of them to dress like the heathers and they blackmail you to be their Veronica

• Whenever you would play video games Ben would randomly pop up in there and give you a jump scare

• You joked to them about them being your guard dogs so when you went out they started barking at everything you never made that joke again

• They purposely piss you off by taking your words literally "What? you told me to piss off"

---

• Whenever you start having crush they make a plan on how to get rid/test this new person

• Your date just sees three scary looking men behind you without you knowing

• Ben and you have moments where you laugh at nothing

• Noise complaints all the time you guys almost got kicked out. Don't worry they took care if it meaning sending a warm message to your neighbors

• When you asked what happened to the neighbor they'll just say "they probably moved" and leave before you could ask anymore questions

___

ill give you a smooch if u reblog

this is them playing as the heathers💀

#creepypasta #creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta x platonic reader #jeff the killer x reader #ticci toby x reader #ben drowned x reader #creepypasta x reader

[angelltheninth]

Bed of Thorns, Kiss of Roses

Pairing: Malleus Draconia x Reader

Tags: fluff, morning fluff, gentle kisses, cuddling, shoulder kisses, slight suggestive content, teasing, claiming bites

Word count: 0.6k

Ao3

A/N: A little bit of fluff, with just a hint of spiciness, this time around for the beloved dragon man.

Quiet mornings are something of an increasing rarity for Malleus. Between morning classes and you sneaking into his bed night after night it hasn't been easy for him to find a new morning routine. There was one thing about this however that he enjoyed. Looking at you sleeping peacefully on his chest.

"How did you ever end up with me huh sweetheart?" Malleus asks himself, as he takes in your cute sleeping face. He resisted the urge to kiss you for an excruciating amount of minutes, not even he can break the hold you seem to have on him. If he was less experienced he's swear you had him under a spell.

Upon his lips making soft contact with your cheek a wide smile spreads across your face and you shift your weight on top of him, wanting to be even closer.

"Heh, even your dreams you're still clingy." He tries his best to sound like he's scolding you but the warm tone in his tone combined with the warm smile does away with it pretty quickly. His warm hand smooths across your back, offering warmth in the slightly chilly room.

"I think..." You mumble, still half-asleep, back arching into Malleus' touch, "That you like me being clingy."

Malleus tilts his head to the side in thought, the tips of his ears getting a light shade of pink, "Perhaps so. Dragons are very fond of their possessions." He beds down to kiss your cheek again.

You chuckle, "Your hair is tickling my Mall."

"Oh. Sorry." By the tone of his voice you'd guess he's not sorry at all. It's confirmed when you look up to meet his smug face, his almost glimmering emerald colored eyes.

"What time is it?" You ask barely holding back a yawn.

Malleus' hand presses firmly against you skin, keeping you pressed against him, "About half an hour until breakfast." He slowly chews on his lip as you trail a path of teasing kisses up his chest, his neck and moving to the sensitive spot below his ear. A rumble sounds from deep in his chest, "Darling, don't start something we don't have finish."

Your lips ghost over the shell of his ear, nibbling lightly as they go, "That's rich coming from someone who spent the better part of last night with his hard..."

"Ok, I get it. Enough please." He groans, his lips pressing into a thin line, "I don't want to go to class with a boner." There's a light press of warm hands on your shoulders as Malleus pushes you upwards. His eyes roam across your face, taking in your lovely features, the small, but cocky smirk on your face about the fact that you managed to fluster him. "You think you're so clever don't you."

You only grin wider, winking down at him. Malleus narrows his eyes at you, before his face turns into that with a charming smile, his eyes seemingly finding something interesting.

He bends forward, lips ghosting over your skin until he finds the spot he's looking for. A very distinct bite mark he left on your shoulder last night. You suck in a breath as you feel his tongue give the sore spot a long, tentative lick. "You're making me want to say here all day. Are you trying to revert me back into a recluse? Want me all to yourself do you?"

"You got me." Malleus smirks against your skin.

"Yeah I do." He bit into your shoulder again, cementing his claim. "If you're good today, I can show you just how much of a hold I can have on you." His lips move up your neck, growling his promise into your ear, sending shivers down your spine and igniting an ache between your legs.

"I can be good." You barely suppress a whimper as you shift your hips against his.

Malleus pulls back, places a quick kiss on the tip of your nose, "I know you can rose petal. Should we get going then?"

"Just one more minute." Malleus chuckles as you take your original position with your face against his chest.

#twisted wonderland #malleus draconia #malleus x reader #twst malleus #malleus draconia x reader #twst x reader #twst fluff #twst fanfic #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader

[vampire-chokehold]

the wisp sings

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Peter B. Parker x MJ

Summary: So, no, Miguel doesn’t know how to say no to Peter, because every time he’s ever said yes, he’s felt like the luckiest guy in the multiverse.

"Would you let us make you happy? Please?" says Peter softly and Miguel closes his eyes to take in the air between them.

Warnings: too much angst, but there's a lot of fluff too!

Words: 4,363

Read on AO3

At the top of the tallest building in Nueva York, the air seems different. It doesn't feel as if it is trying to choke him from the inside out; his lungs collapsing with each breath he takes. Up there, every emotion feels small in comparison, just a speck of dust in the universe. He can let go for just one second, of everything, of himself, of all the ghosts that haunt him.

To celebrate one's step closer to death. Qué cosa tan extraña (what an odd thing to do), Miguel thinks as he looks at the date on his wristband, its soft light lingering on his hardened features in the darkness of the night.

Another year, another birthday he dreads to celebrate. For what? There is nothing he can think of that would make him any more miserable than being around people wishing him a happy day. He hasn't had one in forever.

The cars on the streets draw a map of light streaks and their sound, muffled with those of the city –the careless people of Nueva York–, seems like white noise to him. Like static, a nice and soothing background music for his thoughts. He follows their movement with his eyes, from one end of the street to the other, like a pendulum.

It is somewhat peaceful, to drown in his sorrow like this. The grief makes him almost numb in his chest. Casi (almost).

If life were any different, he might enjoy birthdays. Maybe he would feel content around people, all their smiles shining with the white of their teeth, and his too. Maybe he would blow a candle or two, eat a piece of cake, and open the presents with glee. But life isn't always –no, it never is– as we expect it to be, as we wish it to be. And Miguel has come to know this the hard way.

He can still feel her tiny fingers poking his cheek, the warmth of early morning falling onto his shut eyelids, as Gabriela tries to wake him up with a feliz cumpleaños on her lips. He can still see her eyes drawing two half moons on her face, accompanying the widest of grins. He can still taste the coffee on his lips –too sweet for his liking, but how can you refuse your child when she is more excited about your birthday than you? He could never say no to her.

What does he have to look forward to now apart from a few more wrinkles around the mouth, soreness after a complex mission, and the loneliness of going back to a home that is no longer a home but a haunted house?

No breakfast in bed.

No drawings of him and Gabi where his face doesn't look as mean as it does now.

No wish that can ever come true.

So there he is, hiding away like he always does –his chest tight and his eyes stinging with the imminent cry forming in the pit of his stomach. It was a quiet day at HQ and he knows that if he had stayed in his office, he would have spent hours looking at all those memories that he so desperately wants to bury deep beneath. He kind of hoped for a crisis to happen so he can distract himself, to dive into the violence.

"Hiya, boss, I know you ask not to be disturbed today, but Peter is looking for you and he says it's urgent." Lyla appears on his side in a blinding orange light.

"I highly doubt it, Lyla. Tell Peter I will deal with whatever tomorrow," he pushes the button to send his IA away, the light disappearing with a gentle beep.

He looks up into the night sky, the stars almost nowhere to be seen with all the light pollution.

Peter, he sighs. That is something to unpack for sure.

"I must insist, Miguel. Peter seems really serious, and you know he's never serious," the hologram appears again, this time with Lyla looking at him with furrowed brows and crossed arms.

Her expression makes him stop to think for a second. What if Peter is actually in trouble? Can he just shrug it off and ignore him? "Did something happen to Peter?" He finally asks, the worry in his tone too apparent for what he'd like.

"He sounds hurt, but I do not have any more information to disclose. I could run a diagnostics and try to determine if-"

"No, déjalo (leave it)." Miguel cuts her off as he stands up over the ledge of the building. "I'm done moping anyways."

With quick gestures, he taps at his bracelet, it beeping under his touch. A red and yellow flashing portal opens to the side of the building, waves of energy spreading up and down into the darkness. Miguel looks up at the sky one last time as if saying goodbye and then jumps off into the abyss.

The lights devour him as his body crosses the portal back to Earth-616B.

He runs out of the blinding lights, almost stumbling onto the grass in front of Peter's house. He would have liked to play it cooler, but his mind gets the best of him imagining all sorts of tragic scenarios. Peter never calls Lyla looking for him, so this has to be something important otherwise he would just wait for him to come back to pester Miguel about whatever is going on inside that silly head of his. So, of course, he runs.

With his heart almost in his mouth, he knocks on the front door.

One very long and anguishing minute passes before he decides to open the door –uninvited–, yanking the handle with too much force. The house is quiet, too quiet, and his mind rushes to paint him morbid images of Peter bleeding to death on the sofa. He walks into the living room with the sound of his beating heart hammering in his temples and the air squeezing its way down his throat. He stops himself as he comes to realize what is really going on. Just as he starts to read the banner that hangs from the wall, the words bright and colourful, Peter emerges from behind the sofa wearing a silly party hat. Next to him, MJ is holding Mayday with the biggest of smiles drawn on their faces.

"Surpriseeeeeee!" they shout in a surely unrehearsed manner as they spring into view.

Miguel, for once in his life, is speechless. He remains there, his hands still in fists to his side and his heart racing in his chest, his mouth going drier by the second. His eyes dart frantically from Peter to MJ to the banner saying happy birthday! and the realization hits him hard, too hard for what it is, really. But he can’t help it. Mierda (shit).

“Hey, you alright, Miggy?” MJ says from behind the sofa, her expression no longer cheerful.

Peter, next to her, has now dropped his hand and is wearing a confused look on his face. He goes to Miguel and nudges him with his elbow. "Bet you didn't think I'd remember, eh?" he says putting his hands on his hips, taking pride in a successful surprise, trying to lighten the mood that had suddenly shifted.

"I thought you were hurt. I thought something had happened." Miguel said in a quiet tone, looking down at his hands while he unclenched them.

"Well, that was part of the performance! I must say, I'm quite the actor. MJ always says that I-"

"I thought you were hurt, Peter," he repeats, this time his tone is too harsh and he looks up at him, his eyes pleading.

Everything feels too close, too constrained. The room suddenly looks like it's closing in on him, their questioning eyes piercing his thick skin like fire through ice. Peter touches his forearm with the softest of fingers and it burns. Tengo que salir de aquí (I have to get out of here).

Miguel turns on his heel and practically bolts out of the room, gasping desperately for air as he steps out of the house. He bends over his middle, balancing himself with his hand over his knees and he tries to breathe. He opens his mouth wide and he takes in a gust of air but it doesn't seem to be enough. The corners of his eyes are going black and there's a tingling feeling creeping up the back of his head.

"Miggy, are you okay?" he feels a hand on his back, warm and solid unlike everything else around him. "What's going on?"

Miguel doesn't move, doesn't say anything. He tries to ground himself but he feels he's starting to lose control. Peter's face comes into focus in front of him, the Spider-man kneeling on the grass as he takes his face in his hands.

"I'm here. It's okay. Breathe," his words sound so distant, Miguel can't even recognise them on his lips, the severe tone so uncharacteristic in the other man.

He looks into Peter's eyes and he wishes he could drown himself in them. How is this person so calm all the time? Peter smiles the warmest of smiles and he feels himself melt.

"Tell me what's going on, Miguel, let me in," he leans a bit closer to him and Miguel feels he's breathing the same air Peter is letting out.

Some people cannot speak without smiling and Peter is one of them. The way his eyes curve into two crescent moons and the side of his mouth wrinkles when he grins makes him feel like all that's wrong in his life doesn't matter that much.

He's come to love his carefree disposition; even when everything goes haywire, Peter is able to joke around. Cool, calm, collected. That's just who he is. Miguel wishes he could be more like him, but it isn't in his nature. He will always be a freak, cut and sewn into a monster that feeds off the people he mistreats.

"Peter, I…" he starts and then falls silent. Peter nudges him to go on caressing his cheek with his thumb. "This is too much. Too personal. Me, here, celebrating with you, MJ and Mayday. I just can't. No puedo, todo esto es demasiado para mí (I can’t, this is all too much for me)."

"To celebrate your birthday? Too personal?" Peter chuckles and he lets himself fall back, ass completely on the damp grass. "I mean, I imagined you being the kind of guy that doesn't like to age a day, but having a piece of cake and opening some presents never did anyone any harm, am I right?"

Miguel doesn't notice, but Peter's relentless positivity brings him back to reality; the way his eyes flutter all over his face, clinging to his eyes, his lips, his nose; and his soft hands on his face. There it is, how he always manages to bring him back to shore, even when he's sure he's done for.

Peter's expression changes, turning serious, but in his eyes, there's still that softness around the edges. "I get it, I really do. These things, they bring back the past…" he looks up to the night sky, his neck long and beautiful under the porch light. "But I do think you deserve to be happy, Miguel, despite all that's happened." Peter then sits up, bringing his face too close to Miguel's. "Would you let us make you happy? Please?"

Miguel doesn't know how to say no to Peter, he never has. Right from the start, he has let him do whatever he wanted with him. He has tried to stay away, to never cross that invisible line hovering between them.

But Peter is relentless.

He would nonchalantly come into his office and ramble on about whatever was on his mind even though Miguel would never answer or even look at him, but it became a habit –a habit he now can’t live without. Eventually, they grew to be close friends, despite Miguel’s efforts to push him away, and even more than that when Peter asked him to meet MJ.

He admits that the first time he set foot in Parker’s residence, his heart was beating so loud in his ears that he barely listened to a word any of them said that night. He ate and drank and talked as if it wasn’t that big of a deal for him, but inside his stomach, there was a whole hurricane of butterflies trying to make their way out.

Soon those sporadic dinners became a regular thing. Sometimes, Miguel brought empanadas, although he always apologized for not having time to cook a proper dinner as MJ did. Peter took care of the drinks, inventing cocktails that tasted much better than they looked. Gradually, routine began to feel more and more natural, and Miguel suddenly found himself sharing his life with two people.

Although he initially felt strange, as if he were intruding on something, occupying a place that clearly wasn't his, Peter always did his best to make him feel like a part of their existing relationship. And MJ, with her gentle hands and radiant smile, always welcomed him with open arms. It was very difficult not to feel loved when he was with them, and of course, it was very difficult not to love them back.

To be in a relationship again was unthinkable for Miguel. After all the people he had lost, being open to the possibility of all that suffering resurfacing –that is if it had ever disappeared– made him too vulnerable.

As open as a gushing wound.

Naked.

So, no, Miguel doesn’t know how to say no to Peter, because every time he’s ever said yes, he’s felt like the luckiest guy in the multiverse.

"Would you let us make you happy? Please?" says Peter softly and Miguel closes his eyes to take in the air between them.

“Yes,” he breathes.

MJ had baked Miguel a birthday cake with his name on it between pink hearts made out of strawberries.

"People our age shouldn't have to blow out the exact number of candles corresponding to our age. It's a rule in this house," she says as she lights the single candle stuck in the middle of the cake. "Make a wish, Miggy."

Miguel closes his eyes before exhaling all the air from his lungs. He doesn't like making wishes because he knows that the one wish he would ask for is impossible to fulfil, but he feels that he owes it to MJ and Peter for all their effort. What to ask for? Love, health, money, those things that are usually requested from the universe as if magic exists?

To forget? To heal?

The small flame of the candle quickly extinguishes, leaving behind a wisp of smoke that dissipates amidst the applause from MJ, Peter, and Mayday. A shy smile forms on Miguel's lips as he sees how happy they are. Their joy is truly contagious.

"MJ, it looks amazing. I think I deserve at least two slices," says Peter as he extends his plate. He leans on Miguel's shoulder and whispers in his ear, "What did you wish for? For a drop-dead gorgeous boyfriend?"

Miguel can't help but laugh because, despite everything, Peter always maintains his teasing personality. "I already have that, idiota (idiot)." he responds, turning his head to look at him, raising both eyebrows in a playful manner.

MJ leans on the table in front of them and with a finger, she takes a bit of icing from the cake and smudges Miguel's nose. "Did you know that secrets whispered in the ear are considered rude?" she makes a mock frown while sucking her finger.

In the past, Miguel would have been mortified with embarrassment, but he has grown accustomed to their innuendos, and he himself has become comfortable responding to them, a far cry from the stoic character that everyone knows.

He leans over the table and takes MJ's hand, her finger still moist with her own saliva. With the tip, he wipes off the icing and then puts it in his mouth, slowly sucking on it while maintaining eye contact with her. MJ's face turns the same colour as the cake in an instant.

"Before this becomes something, I think you should open the gifts," Peter's smile is huge as he picks up Mayday in his arms. "Shall we find that beautiful drawing you made for Miggy's birthday?"

Miguel can't help but melt every time he sees Peter interacting with his daughter. At first, he played tough and ignored all the times Parker tried to show him photos of the little one, but deep inside, there was a warmth slowly growing.

Mayday is nothing like Gabriela, yet they are two peas in a pod. He sees in her everything he misses about his daughter, and although the memory is like a relentless knife digging into his side, having her close makes him happy. Having them close makes him terribly happy, despite the fear.

Suddenly, silence envelops the room where MJ and Miguel are left alone, but it's not uncomfortable; quite the opposite. When did he start feeling at home in a home that wasn't his?

"Are you okay, Miggy?" MJ asks with a sweet voice, cupping his cheek with a hand that looks ridiculously small on his face.

Miguel looks at her, and although his instinct is to retreat into himself and put up a barrier between his heart and her, he gently places his hand over MJ's and lets the weight of his head rest on both of them. He closes his eyes in a sigh that feels like the first breath of the day. "I still struggle... to come to terms with all of this. I've been alone for a long time, and... it's hard."

He struggles to find the words, especially in front of MJ, who is always so in tune with her own emotions. Honestly, Miguel sometimes feels emotionally inept, and he can't help but question what he can offer her when she's already with Peter –even though he and Parker are like day and night and have nothing in common. Physically, he has no doubt that he fulfils certain fantasies for both of them, but emotionally? Why would anyone want to be with such a broken person who can't relate without dragging along a bag of traumas and misfortunes? Nevertheless, he feels grateful that MJ insists that he learns to communicate better. He wants to be better.

MJ turns his face slightly, now their lips so close that Miguel feels like he's crossing his eyes to see her better. "You know I love you, don't you?" her voice is barely a whisper, as if no one else in the universe is worthy of hearing those words, words that are only for him. "That Peter and Mayday and I love you."

Love. When was the last time someone told me they loved me? He tries to remember, but he can't place the memory in his mind. There are many things he doesn't remember. About Dana, for example. Neither how he felt all the air leaving his body when he first saw her, nor how the world stopped when their lips met, nor how his skin turned to fire with the touch of her fingers, nor how her lips curved upwards, forming the most beautiful smile he had ever seen. Miguel doesn't remember when was the first time he was told "I love you." And although he doesn't remember –or so he thinks – an entire lifetime that now feels as distant as unreal, he carries the memories tattooed under his skin, etched into his bones until the day he dies.

"I love you too, MJ. I love you all." Miguel says it as if his life depends on it, with all the air and all the love he carries within. And then he kisses her gently and with a certain impatience, with the hunger of someone who has long yearned for forgiveness.

"Then everything will be fine. We don't need anything else," MJ responds, and her eyes are also like crescent moons when she smiles like Peter’s. Like Gabriela's.

MJ and Peter had difficulty choosing Miguel's birthday present. They couldn't agree on what Miguel might want or need, considering how reserved he is about the things he likes.

"I know you're not a gift person, and that's why it's been bleeping difficult to find something that would suit you, but I think I nailed it this time," Peter proudly says as he puts a poorly wrapped package in Miguel's hands. "Sorry, MJ, I win."

Miguel takes the gift reluctantly, with the embarrassment of knowing that too many eyes are watching him, and he opens it carefully.

"Go ahead, big guy, break it! The best part of opening gifts is tearing the paper! Use those claws that I love so much!" Peter encourages him, laughing. Miguel rolls his eyes but follows his advice and tears apart the remaining unopened paper.

In his hands, he has a black jumper that seems to be handmade. He looks up and sees Peter staring at him with an expression full of love.

"Did you make this?" the surprise in his voice is more than evident because when did he learn to do something like this? Peter nods, his lips curving into a proud smile. "I had no idea you had this skill, Parker."

"Knitting? Well, it's something Aunt May taught me, I don't quite remember why. But how did you not know? I told you I made this for Mayday!" he shows him the Spider-Man mask that the girl is wearing, and she giggles in his arms.

Miguel looks at the jumper in his hands again, caressing the material with his rough fingers. It's so soft. He unfolds it and opens it in front of him. And it's huge!

"I wanted you to have your own jumper. One that fits you. After all, you always come home after a mission, and my clothes never fit you properly. Don't get me wrong, we love that you're practically naked all the time! But winter is around the corner, and maybe... well, that." Embarrassment starts to colour Peter's ears pink as he runs a hand through his hair.

"Peter, I love it. It's... it's perfect. Gracias (thank you)."

“Ok, now it’s my turn!” MJ interrupts them and slides in between to hand him her present.

It's a small box, wrapped with a red ribbon. Miguel opens it and finds a USB drive inside. Puzzled, he looks at MJ for an explanation.

"I made you a mixtape! So you can listen to it in the office when you're alone and missing us, or when we're here and we want to dance... or do things that aren't exactly dancing," she laughs, slightly blushing, and plants a kiss on his lips that tastes like pure bliss. "There's a bit of everything in there, but they're songs that remind me of us."

"How do you know what kind of music I like?" Miguel raises an eyebrow, teasingly.

"I have my ways. A little birdie once told me they heard you singing... and I improvised! I hope I got it right."

¿Qué hice para merecer todo este amor? (what did I do to deserve all this love?) Words won’t come out of his chest, lumped up in his throat like a ball of concrete. He had wanted so desperately to be loved again, and there he is, with more love than he can handle. He feels like he was going to burst with love at any moment.

They are the song he sings every night in his sleep, a song of redemption.

"Thank you, MJ." His eyes soften as he looks at her. "Although I won't be listening to it in the office." he hugs her tightly and kisses both her hands with such tenderness. Everything feels like melting.

After Peter clears his throat in mock annoyance, Miguel stands up, still holding onto the jumper (feeling like he doesn't want to let go) and the tiny box, and gently kisses Peter on the lips. Mayday, caught between the two men, laughs and tries to grab Miguel's face. When they pull apart from the kiss, Miguel holds Mayday in his arms with tenderness.

"Mayday, would you like to give him your gift?" MJ asks with a loving voice, placing a piece of paper in her extended little hand.

"Let me see. ¿Es para mí? (is it for me?)" he says in a higher-pitched voice than usual, something that always makes Peter laugh because it contrasts greatly with his grumpy tone as a super important and intimidating boss back at HQ.

Mayday had drawn a picture of the four of them, and even though the girl was still young, it was perfectly clear who was who. A stick figure with red hair, another one with a pink bathrobe, and him, wearing the Spider-Man suit. Did she draw fangs on me?

There it was again, that tingling in his hands, that cold sweat at the back of his head. The vertigo of terror at the possibility of losing them too. How could he recover from such a loss? Again? He couldn't fathom his life without Peter, MJ, or Mayday. The time he spends with them feels like a wound healing: sometimes it stings and makes him want to run away, but most of the time, it feels as natural as breathing. He knows that before finding himself alone in emptiness again, he will do everything possible to keep them by his side. But this time, he won't make the same mistakes of the past.

"Don't you think we look great together?" MJ whispers by his side, resting her cheek against his arm and running her hand through his hair from his nape up, the sudden contact bringing him back to reality, calming him. She always can tell when he’s spiralling.

And she is right. MJ is always right.

They look great together.

And fear won’t take that away from him, ever again.

#miguel o'hara #peter b parker #mj #spiderdads #polyamory #throuple #this shit is angsty as hell but there's also comfort where it's needed #fluff fluff fluff i don't know how to write smut #i had the best time writing miguel #he's the poorest little meow meow #atsv #marvel

[mslanna]

You can Build Your House on My Hill

Chapter 13 of Be My Guest now up on AO3

Progress is being made on almost all fronts. Time to be soft.

Tav wakes alone in the huge four-poster bed. Disappointment seeps into their thoughts though they know devils don’t sleep. Raphael cannot waste that much time and the sheets and pillow smell of him still. They roll over taking in how every inch of their body feels sore and scraped. Their fingers trace the lines of bite marks on their skin with a sigh.

The table is still untouched. The flowers glow in the soft light and drop lush petals onto the polished wood. Two wine glasses stand untouched next to an open bottle. There are chocolates. There is candied fruit. Raphael indeed prepared a whole stage. And they blew it. And him. Later. Not as an apology.

The night unfolds slowly in Tav's memory and they have to jump off the bed and busy themself before it gets so bad, they run off to drag Raphael right back to bed. Or not. It seems that a bed was optional. Tav splashes cold water into their face.

Tav picks up the books. A novel in verse titled "Medora Out of Her Depth" and a collection of offensive limericks sorted by the number of places they are banned in. They lower the books and pop a chocolate into their mouth. It is delicious. It will go perfectly with the velvety red wine.

Well, today was certainly a day and all days end. Pocketing a handful of candied fruit, Tav steps into the throne room. It’s still empty, if you disregard a few eternal debtors already scrubbing and cleaning the spotless room. But the other doors stand open and they can see Raphael in his study with a devil and more of them gathered in the other rooms.

A day indeed with day activities for all involved. Tav makes their way towards the stairs and is almost run over by a fiend coming down. The devil sends them a scathing glance that skips on Tav's neck. Then she turns into the council room, disgust trailing behind. Arguing voices come from it, but Tav can't make out a single word.

Maybe using the shortcut to the library will be a life-saver once more fiends frequent the House of Hope. For a moment Tav wonders if it even is the House of Hope still, what with Hope gone. But the have no better idea for a name. House of a Single Braincell doesn't flow well and House of Abysmal Communication Skills doesn't fare much better. Also, there is Hope here. Tav hopes the war goes well. They hope to see the sun again soon.

Once Mephistopheles is removed from the equation, they can spend their days in the world again and their nights – well. Tav doesn't intend to leave again. As long as Raphael doesn't kick them out, which as all signs indicate, he will not, this can be a home. The thought draws an impossible grin of Tav's face.

It feels strange that so little has changed when it felt so big. Tav wanders off into the library to find something to busy themself with. Life as a trophy human is boring and they are determined to fill the empty parts.

And just like that a new normal establishes itself. The literary discussions suffer a steel decline for a couple of days until Raphael realises he can just seek out Tav whenever and request their presence for personal matters.

“You know,” Tav looks down at the very happy if rather exhausted devil, “if we spent half as much time talking at the beginning as we do fucking now, we could have started fucking a lot sooner.”

In reply, Raphael pulls them down into a lingering kiss. "Are you concerned about the pace in which we catch up?" His lips brush against theirs.

"Hm." Tav luxuriates in the devil's taste and proximity. It is never enough. The moment they part, the feeling of Raphael's hot skin against theirs is missing decidedly. Unfortunately, they cannot live glued to his side, much less naked. "I'll take what I can."

"That you do." He smiles knowingly.

"Pervert." Tav kisses him deeply. "Don't you have a war to run?"

"I do." Raphael cups his hands around Tav's shoulders. They are not a dainty human but in his arms they look small. Deliciously small. He pushes the memories down for later perusal and flips them over to pin Tav to the bed for a moment. The thought that he has his whole life to return and fuck the living daylight out of them is stunning. It is made all the sweeter by Tav's sheer reciprocal of his desires.

Raphael bends down for a last kiss. He can feel the smile of their lips against his. Ruling all hells with be sweet. Possessing all of Tav will make it even sweeter. He leaves them on the bed, rumpled and happy. The war won't wait and Tav is always there.

Tav watches their devil leave, a little heartbroken about the tension straightening out his tail and corseting his movements as he passes through the door.

What structures Tav’s time into days are their regular appointments with Haarlep and the literary dates with their devil. The latter tend to devolve into more physical skirmishes which is fine because now they always end mutually satisfactory.

And after sulking for a while, Haarlep does come around. It probably helps that Tav siphons some of the intruders to them.

"They need to have a little fun, too," they argue and can see Raphael go soft. It is too easy. Getting anything from the devil is too easy. He looks into their eyes and once his gaze strays down to their throat and up, Tav knows they won.

Alone in the library, they fumble on the skin. They forget how clearly the devil marks his territory. It is a testament to how utterly gone they are, that the bursts of pain when Raphael draws blood is firmly on the side of advantages of their situation. Tav’s fingertips run over the raised crust on their skin fondly.

Soon the devils frequenting the House of Hope get more and more careless around Tav. The census seems to be that if they are in a devil's home, they can look after themself. And know their place. Which is out of the way of a fiend.

Tav is torn between defending their space and getting out of the way to trampling entities that are bigger, stronger and heavier than them. Sometimes they wonder if Raphael knows or if they should tell him. But there is nothing they can hold up as proof that it is intentional harassment.

"Make a list," Haarlep suggests. "I'll help you." Malicious glee shines in their eyes.

"I can't keep them apart." Tav sighs.

"Have you even tried?" Haarlep chides. "You can keep me and Raphael apart just fine."

"Haarlep, my dear," Tav flops down on the bed beside them, "I cannot even keep humans apart. The moment Shadowheart dyed her hair white it was only the braids that told me if I was talking to her or Jaheira."

"A stunning weakness," the incubus purrs. "I will remember it fondly."

"You're welcome."

"You understand that this was my home long before you came?"

Tav turns to look at them with a smile. "And it will be long after I'm gone."

"Oh, certainly not. Either Raphael wins this war and I will be gone, or he looses this was and I will be gone."

"Not planning to stick around?" Tav can't keep the disappointment out of their tone completely.

"Whatever for? I was stuck long enough. And if you think I want to be a proxy for our cambion in one of his conquered hells? Hell no. I want to have some real fun again."

Tav doesn't ask what Haarlep considers real fun. Unbridled violence dances in their words and their eyes shine with malice. A true fiend. But then, everybody in this house is and they the sorry exception.

It makes them work harder on their studies while keeping even more quite about it. If they are just a plaything, some fancy accessory, Tav can bank on being underestimated. They don't enjoy becoming a little paranoid, but it seems wise.

Tav is so concentrated on conjugations that they notice Raphael only, when he stands right in front of them. "I need you to come with me," the devil says. "Back to the suite."

Blinking Tav closes the book and steps into the offered wing. It seems a little intimate considering how public they will walk, but they won't complain. Their hand finds his and this time, Raphael glances down with an indulgent smile. He ushers them down the stairs and into the throne room that is full of lingering devils.

He doesn't slow down until they reach the suite at its end. Raphael opens the door and guides Tav inside. "You may return through the secret passage as soon as you wish, but it is important you are known not to be in a public space."

"Why?"

"There are arch devils coming to bargain," Raphael explains. "I do not want them tempted by your person being around."

"So I am a bargaining chip now?" Tav quips.

"Always have been," the devil replies. "But I prefer if you try to bargain with me."

"On my bare knees?"

"Or any position you can think of." He allows himself another smile, this one suggestive. "I cannot tell how long this will take. But you have everything you need."

Tav glances at the table where food and carafes of water are waiting. Somehow ending up here and not getting ravaged feels wrong. They were looking forward to is when the devil collected them. "Won't be the same without you."

"All the more reason to stay invisible for now and not get abducted."

Tav sighs and rises to their toe to ghost a soft kiss over their devils lips. "For luck."

Raphael returns the favour a little longer with a lot more tongue. "For you."

When he leaves, Tav notices how the devil's tail stops moving freely as soon as the door opens. Poor sod. And also, poor them.

#bg3 #raphael bg3 #raphael x tav #be my guest #chapter 13 #mel writes fanfic #sleazy second hand car dealer #bg3 raphael

[writeshite]

hi! i was wondering if you could do a morpheus / male reader fic in a modern au? (and w/o smut please im ace srry :/) and idk reader's nice? in general ?I'm sorry i don't usually do requests so idk what to say but i rlly like how u write !

Sleep Is The Best Medicine

Summary:

The kitchen light is soft against your eyes but harsh for Morpheus - he’s hanging off your back, arms around your neck as you carry him piggyback style. He’d been sick all week and hadn’t done much but steal your softest clothing, an old hoodie, a beanie, and socks, the only article of cloth belonging to him being his pants.

Pairings:

Morpheus x Male!Reader

Tags:

Fluff | Sick Morpheus | Healthy Sleep Schedules

Words: 417

Author's Note:

Welcome my fellow ace comrade, not to worry I understand your plight and many thanks, I'm glad to hear you like my writing

The kitchen light is soft against your eyes but harsh for Morpheus - he’s hanging off your back, arms around your neck as you carry him piggyback style. He’d been sick all week and hadn’t done much but steal your softest clothing, an old hoodie, a beanie, and socks, the only article of cloth belonging to him being his pants. The shirt underneath the hoodie also belongs to you, an old sleep shirt he’d grown attached to. You’d taken most of the week off to look after him, and he’d repaid you with many thanks and a happy sound like the one he’s making. 

Morpheus liked to drink warm milk before bed; the specific recipe was from his childhood, something his father used to make and something he drank whenever he got sick. “Cinnamon?”

You turn your head at the sound of your voice; his head’s turned up slightly, eyes droopy as he asks for the spice. You smile, “Of course, love,” you reply. He gets down from your back, shuffling over to the spice cabinet; he returns to you with the spice, dropping almost half of it inside the milk bubbling on the stove. He smiles when you shake your head, leaning against you once the cinnamon is returned. You place your hand on his forehead, glad to feel the fever hasn’t returned; all that’s left right now is the sore throat, which should clear up by tomorrow. The hood’s cast over his head, and he’s drawn the strings to hide his face from the lights. He hops on the counter as you move to switch the stove off, dividing the milk into two cups; you pass him his before joining him on the countertop.

It’s long since stopped raining, and you’d spent the day snuggled on the couch, watching various movies as the day went by, the most eventful occasion being the half-hour you spent trying to get your boyfriend to take his medicine. Now, as you took the last sip of your warm drink, you slid off the counter; taking Morpheus’ cup, you placed them in the sink, leaving them for tomorrow. You and Morpheus went to prep for bed - brushing your teeth, checking the locks, all that stuff; when you got to bed, Morpheus was already wrapped in blankets, curled in comfort, and when you got into bed, curled in your arms. When morning comes, Morpheus is better, free from his cold, but you awake with a sneeze, puffy eyes, and a sore throat. 

End Note:

I'm sorry if it's too short, but I hope you enjoyed it. Stay Hydrated.

#morpheus x male reader #morpheus x reader #the sandmand imagine #shiterequests #sleepy morpheus is best morpehus

[prianya]

Yooo glad to see u writing again! Could u do a Tango x reader where the reader is like the oposite of Tango? They are very calm and just chill to be with and often keeps their eyes closed. But when they get mad, they open their eyes just a smidge but u know its about to get bad but Tango is always like "omg my bb" or something

Shattered Terracotta

Tango x Reader ▪︎ Romantic

Word Count ▪︎ 531 words

Summary ▪︎ As much as you were patient, you couldn't help but get upset sometimes. This time, it's because your husband and his friends keep breaking things.

Note ▪︎ I hope I did this request justice, I struggled a little bit with this one. I hope you enjoy!

You and Tango have been partners for years, having met when he joined for a day season 2. You met briefly when he came onto the server to help Mumbo with the Iron Foundry, and it had been like love at first sight. When the two of you talked for the first time, something in you told you that he was the one.

Ever since then, the two of you spent time together constantly, never being able to stat away from eachother for long. You were Tango's opposite, but you were undoubtedly his other half. You got married late in season 4, and at the beginning of season 5, you built a base together. That's been your routine for every season, and you've never lived in separate bases since.

Sharing a base has come with a bit of difficulty, though. Most of it was the fact that you're an extremely light sleeper, and Tango snores very loudly. Sometimes, though, the problem is the friends that Tango invites. Namely, Bdubs and Impulse. As polite at the two try to be, every time they come into your house something ends up broken, and this time was no different.

From the kitchen, you hear the three of them enter, with Tango calling out a short greeting. The trio pass the entrance to the kitchen, Bdubs smiling and Impulse waving at you before he passes. They end up in the living room, judging from the sound coming from the back wall of the kitchen.

It only takes a few minutes before you hear the telltale sound of breaking glass, and you heave out an annoyed sigh. Your day already hadn't been the best, and paired with this, it pushed ypu over the edge. You make your way to the living room, and stare down the two of them with a scowl.

"What did you do?" you hiss at them, and they all start to speak at the same time to explain themselves.

"Well, it was an accident!" Tango offers up and you roll your eyes.

"It's always an accident, but then you still break my plant pots," you say in exasperation. You glare at the three, two of which immediately freeze at the look on your face. Tango just smiles sweetly at you, swooning slightly as he wraps his arms around your waist and blocks the other two from your sight.

"I'm sorry, love," Tango says, and then kisses you sweetly. You almost decide to forgive him before you realize what he's doing.

"Pretty names and kisses won't save you, Tango," You say as you pull back from his arms.

He sighs, "I really thought that would work." You look at the other two, who smile sheepishly when they notice your eyes on them.

"All three of you go make me new flower pots," you tell them as you begin to gather the shards of terracotta into your hands. The three immediately start to do so, leaving you in the living room with sore eyes and dirt on the floor. As you sweep up the dirt, you think, What am I gonna do with them?

#hermitcraft x reader #tangotek x reader #tango x reader #pri writes!!

[fricking-ur-mom]

Heizou x male reader

Warnings?: pet names, fluff, ooc heizou probably

Wandering about Inazuma aiding those who were practically begging for aid with the most mundane tasks.. It was tiring after a while. Though some days were more rough then others with complaints about bandits and whatever else was plaguing the area at the time. Today was one of those days everything was just sore.. Calves cramping up from running from one side of the nation to the other, shoulders and arms sore from excessive use of your weapon.. It was a lot for anyone, even more so for someone who rarely got a break.

Today was also one of those days Heizou came back more tired than usual- having been working on a case for several weeks now. You knew it had been frustrating him when you caught glances of his brows furrowing when he thought you weren’t looking. It was worrying- he didn’t like to speak about his current cases much, instead preferring to tell you all about it once everything was said and done.

As you walked in the door of your shared home you froze, you hadn’t even gotten to set your weapon aside and you saw him walking from one end of your place to the other. Normally he wasn’t back at this time.. Even if it was pretty late.. So much so you yourself we’re back a few hours late- helping the Traveller and Paimon finish up their commissions for the day.

“Heizou..?” His head peeled out from around the corner at the sound of your voice. The way he practically bounded over to you- the feeling of his arms wrapped firmly around you.. It was nice, the warmth of his embrace.. You hadn’t seen him in days save for a few glances as he got out of bed in the morning- not even seeing him when he slipped under the covers beside you late at night.

“Hey.. You’re here early..” You mumbled out, almost not trusting that he was actually here. It was so strange.. him being here so early- pacing around and perhaps even waiting for you? He seemed so lost in thought though..

“I got things all sorted out around half way through the day. The last few things with the case. I wanted to surprise you when you got back but.. You’re here kinda late huh? Is everything alright?” As much as you loved his teasing nature, when it got later in the day it evaporated- him pulling you into bed and wanting nothing more than to just sleep most days if you were still up when he got back. For once- you saw the little furrow of his brows- but he wasn’t hiding it. And it was directed at you- it was strange.. Everything tonight was it seemed.

You managed to put on a smile- even if it was a tired one. You got to see him after all- you got to hold him and be held by him all the same.. that’s what mattered. “Yeah, I’m alright. Just spent a bit more time out and about is all. Nothing more. I’m glad your here.” Your face found it’s way to the crook of his neck, enjoying the warmth he gave- the comfort.

A soft chuckle sounded from the man, eyes glinting in the low light of your shared home. “I made dinner.. How about we go eat and take a nap after yeah? I’ve got the next few days off.. So just stay with me.”

How could you say no to that?

It didn’t take long for you to find yourself wrapped up under the blankets, his hands running up and down the length of your arms. “I’ve missed you.. I’ve missed this. Spending time with my boyfriend, my prince..” His gaze was low, watching how you reacted to his touch.

“It’s hard..” He’d continue on, slowly letting his gaze trail up to your face. “Being away from you all the time.. Not being able to take you on all the dates you love so much.. To properly court my beloved..”

He looked so.. defeated, even lost. Carefully, your hands raised to cup his cheeks, a soft smile on your lips as you looked back at him. “We’ll make time.. It’ll be okay. I’ll sort out my schedule and I’ll be able to see you more.. Talk to the Traveller some on order to get things settled..”

Heizou had that look.. the one he wore when he was considering something- trying to find a piece to a puzzle. You didn’t hesitate to press kisses along his cheeks, not wanting him to get too deep into his own mind.

After thoroughly distracting him you found yourself trapped under him, arms wrapped firmly around you as he used you as though you were his bed- just laying on top of you. “Would my boyfriend want me to take more days off..?” The question was practically purred out- sounding way too happy with himself for having you trapped under him.

“..Maybe he would..” was all you said in return, nuzzling your face against him as you both drifted off into a peaceful slumber, content with being in each other’s arms.

#genshin heizou #shikanoin heizou #heizou x reader #heizou x male reader #male reader #x Male reader

[kyratittyfish]

Follow the White Rabbit

Summary: After surviving the Suicide Mission, Joker discovers a new fluffy addition to Commander's Shepard crew. Notes: This piece was inspired by a challenge. The assignment was to write a hurt/comfort fic featuring a bunny, and using at least two of the following prompts, quotes or words: - Earth - It’s over - “Will you hold me? I feel fragile” - “Look at this mess! Why me? What did I do? I’m a nobody, I haven’t done anything, anything!” - BONUS: “Follow the White Rabbit” I ended up using Earth and It's over in the story, and Follow the White Rabbit as title. Hope you enjoy it! Read on: Ao3

Big dark brown eyes stared at Joker through thin, silvery metal bars. He squinted at the creature, who looked back at him and crinkled its pink nose. 

“Is that… a bunny? Really, Shepard?”

“Hmm?” Shepard hummed from her couch, taken by surprise by the sudden break in silence. She’d been hunched over her datapad for the better part of the last three hours, compiling report after report, putting numbers and data together, trying to make sense of what she’d seen beyond the Omega relay. Of what they’d all seen. 

“You have a bunny. In your cabin. On a spaceship,” Joker repeated. He tentatively tucked a finger through the bars of the cage. “It won’t bite my finger off, right?”

“Oh, I’d be careful if I were you.” Shepard’s voice was a soft hum in his ear, and this time he was the one to startle. How was the woman so sneaky? Granted, she was an infiltrator… but she’d just come out of a supposed suicide mission and her body carried all the bruises and aches to prove it. Hell, getting out of his chair and on his two feet had required him a good amount of grunts, hisses, and grinded teeth, and he had spent the whole fight sitting at the helm! “He’s got nasty, big, pointy teeth.”

He was almost sure Shepard was messing with him, but he pulled his hand away just in case. 

“So, what’s the little fluffer’s name?” Joker asked. Her mouth opened slightly as if about to give him an answer and a hint of white teeth flashed through her bruised lips. 

“I…” her voice faltered, and she tore her gaze away, looking down at her boots that laid abandoned on the floor in one corner of her cabin. “I don’t know.”

“You mean… you forgot?” He turned around to face her, the sudden movement sending jolts of pain through… well, through most of his sore body. He gingerly massaged his left shoulder, wincing as his fingers slid over a particularly tender spot on his collarbone. It was probably one of the few stress fractures EDI had warned him about. Painful, but nothing life-threatening, and definitely something that could wait until the more seriously injured members of the crew had been tended to. “Shit, Shepard, have you told Chakwas? Cause with how hard you hit your head when you jumped into the airlock, you probably got yourself a concuss…”

“No! No, I didn’t forget her name!” She interrupted him. “I never knew it in the first place.”

“Well, most pets don’t have a name before you adopt them. I didn’t have a name when my folks adopted me. Granted, I was like, two hours old, and they didn’t find me at a pet store, but still.”

He expected her to roll her eyes, but her eyes remained firmly planted on the bulkhead next to her extravagant aquarium. 

“I didn’t get her from a shop.”

“You… found her in a cloning tank? Used your Spectre superpower to turn The Illusive Ass into a bunny? Please tell me you didn’t steal her from an orphanage.”

She had to give him at least a giggle now, didn’t she?

When her eyes met his, her gaze was watery and distant.

“I got her on Horizon the day we… the day the Collectors abducted half the colony. I found her in an empty house, her owners had been taken, I saw those… monsters carrying them away in a pod. She had nobody left to take care of her, so I took her with me, promised her I’d keep her safe until I found her people and I brought them back home.”

She closed her eyes. A solitary tear rolled down the side of her nose, disappearing when it met the strip of white gauze covering the gash on her left cheek.  

Silence fell upon them, broken only by the soft hum of the Normandy’s drive core. It felt heavy like a lead curtain, wordlessly eloquent.

She’d held true to her promise in a way- she’d found the colonists. All of them, neatly lined up in their pods, alongside enough empty vessels to hold the entire population of Earth. Asleep, paralyzed, alive.

And then the unthinkable had happened. 

Helplessly, she had to watch them as they were turned into liquid horror, one by one, awake and screaming, banging their fists against the inside of their pods, begging her to save them. 

She’d kicked the pods, lunged at them, she’d even tried shooting the glass to at least give them a merciful death instead of that atrocious agony… But nothing had worked. 

They were already dead the moment the swarm found them. 

“I never gave her a name, cause she already has one. But now …” She took a deep breath and slowly shook her head, her shoulders sagging under the weight of her perceived guilt. “Now there’s no one left to say it.” 

Shit. 

He hung his head low and leaned against Shepard’s desk, letting the hard surface take some weight off his legs. The muscles in his right calf were cramping like crazy. He pinched the bridge of his nose, forcing his mind off the trembling ache.

“Shepard…”

She raised her hand, cutting him short before he could think of anything to say. He was glad she did – empty words and clichés disgusted him, and he was sure she despised them too.

“There’s nothing I could have done, I know that. It doesn’t make it any better.” She sighed, and he felt the tabletop bow under her weight as she perched on top of it. 

“Yeah. It sucks.”

Understatement of the year, Moreau, but what else could he say that she didn’t know already? They were both soldiers. The bittersweet aftertaste of the price of victory lingered at the back of their throats, and when they closed their eyes, the faces they saw were different, but their expressions of horror and blame were always the same. 

He could still hear Kelly’s pleading screams as a scion dragged her away, feel the powerlessness he’d felt as the gunfire covered her cries. 

He closed his eyes and swallowed bile-flavored spit and a mouthful of guilt. 

The crew is alive. Kelly is alive. We got them back.

He exhaled a long, shaky breath.

Still, it sucks.

“Yep,” she agreed. “It does.”

She scuttled closer until her hip grazed against his side. His muscles tensed for an instant, his instinctive defensiveness taking over until he consciously relaxed. 

Joker probably imagined the soft warmth that radiated from her body, permeating through the layers of their clothes, expanding over his skin to soothe the aches in his ribs and legs and heart, but it felt nice nonetheless. 

He crossed his arms over his chest, trying to keep that pleasant heat from fading away.

“But, hey,” Shepard’s soft voice broke the silence. “It’s over now.” Her smile was hesitant at first, but when he smirked too, it spread over her features, carving dimples over her cheeks and painting her skin a warm pink under the gauze and medigel plaster. 

“We did it,” he whispered incredulously. “Holy fucking shit, we did it.” 

Shepard stared deep into his eyes, icy blue shining bright against the purple tones of her bruised brow. 

“We made it,” she echoed him.

“We kicked the Collectors’ bug-like asses into the next plane of existence!” Joker’s voice raised by an octave, hilarity seeping into his tone until his words melted into a stream of hysterical giggles. 

She mirrored his chuckles, and soon they were both curled in half, hands pressed over their stomachs and tears rolling down their cheeks, unable to stop the fits of maniacal laughter.

Joker’s ribs and shoulder made sure to scream their complaints with every breath and cackle, but he didn’t care. Not when Shepard’s fingers found their way to his hand and gently curled around his palm. Not when her touch sent an adrenaline rush to his heart and brain, her thumb rubbing circles over his skin, caressing his knuckles, softly tickling the inside of his wrist. 

It wasn’t clear who moved first to close the distance between them, whose lips searched for the other’s mouth, whose giggles were the first to die, suffocated by the tenderness of a kiss a long time coming. 

It felt instinctual, and just so intrinsically right, for Joker to close his eyes and let her tongue dance around his. She tasted like cinnamon and stardust, inebriating like asari sweet wine, enchanting like a spell.

His free hand reached for her lower back, and he pushed down slightly to pull her even closer to himself. She readily obliged, and her fingers found their way under his hat and into the dishevelled mess of his hair. 

When she broke the kiss for air, he didn’t dare open his eyes. Would he see regret contorting her features if he did? Or even worse, pity?

Adrenaline’s one hell of a drug, makes you do the stupidest things. Like making out with the smart-ass cripple.

He cautiously half-raised one lid and let out a slow breath, feeling relief spread over his body as he spied her studying his face, with her chin tilted slightly to one side and a fond smile curling up the corners of her lips.

She cupped his face in one palm and nuzzled her thumb over his lower lip. Her touch was so delicate, it almost felt unreal. He held her gaze as he kissed her fingertip, then she moved on to his cheekbones and his brow, gently caressing his skin as her digits explored his features and her eyes – so soft, so tender – took him in. 

“Am I dreaming?” Joker asked when Shepard ran her fingers through his hair. She started from his temples and brushed her way to his nape. With every circle her fingertips drew on his scalp, pleasant chills ran down Joker’s neck and spine. “Did we die and go to heaven? There’s a surprising lack of asari dancers if we did.”

She chuckled and massaged the back of his head. 

“Nah, I’m pretty sure we made it back alive from the Omega 4 relay.”

He tilted his head back and purred when she moved her hand to scratch under his chin. As her fingers played with his beard, his whole body felt seconds away from melting into a shapeless puddle of love-struck pilot, a weightless feeling that reminded him of the hours he spent training in zero-g, back in flight school. 

The lack of a drill instructor screaming profanities in his earpiece made the experience orders of magnitude more pleasant, though. 

A soft snoring noise coming from the bunny’s cage cut Joker’s elated mind trip short. 

Shepard’s brows furrowed at his sudden change in facial expression. He held up a finger and silently grinned when her eyes widened and her lips curled into an awed smile. 

“So… somebody feels at home in your cabin,” Joker said, tilting his chin towards the rabbit’s enclosure. And I totally mean the rodent, not the helmsman about to puke butterflies right on your lap. “I guess it’s safe to say the bunny’s here to stay. The latest addition to Commander Shepard’s fabled zoo.”

“Hey!” She protested. Her smirk, however, betrayed her amusement so he shook his head, gave himself an aura of gravity, and continued his mock tirade.

“Honestly, you should advertise it. Hand out little posters and have people pay a few hundred credits to see your collection of sentient oddities. Maybe warn them about the high chance of dismemberment first.”

“Come on, the worst that happened onboard has been a busted lip when Horton had the bright idea to steal Jack’s breakfast.”

“At least this time it’s a bunny instead of a baby krogan using shotguns and head stomping to cope with his teenage angst.”

“Or a varren,” she interjected.

“See, now you’re just proving my point.”

He felt a swell of pride when she buried her head in her hands, her shoulders shaking with laughter.

“Well,” she said after a few moments, “I think it’s safe to say we got ourselves a bunny. We should give her a name, don’t you think?”

“Uh, sure.” He answered absent-mindedly, his mind still reliving every detail of their kiss. It took a moment for her words to fully register in his brain. “Wait… we?”

Shepard simply shrugged, a half-smile turning her cheeks red as she held his gaze. He squinted at her, then at the bunny, then his eyes widened as realization hit him. 

“Are you… offering co-parentship on the bunny, Shepard?”

“Well, I seem to remember you flew me to Horizon the day I brought her here. It’s only fair that you get parental rights,” she said, trying to sound casual. The pitch of her voice, ever so slightly higher than usual, betrayed her nervousness. “If you want to, of course.”

He suppressed a fit of giggles and the urge to pinch his arm. This all felt surreal… Commander Shepard kissing him and asking him to adopt a rabbit with her? No way. He’d had more realistic visions while coming out of anesthesia, and that included the time he fully believed he was the first pyjack to win a cooking competition. 

But… If there was a chance, a one-in-a-million possibility that this wasn’t just one of his wildest dreams, he wasn’t going to screw it up. So, he put on his best ‘how dare you’ face and played along to the fantasy.

“I’m not gonna be a deadbeat bunny-dad, Shepard. As long as she doesn’t bite.”

Her laughter as she reassured him that no, the yet-unnamed bunny would never chew his finger off, finally convinced him that he wasn’t dreaming. As vivid as his imagination was, his mind could never conceive a sound so sweet and musical.

#my writing #follow the white rabbit #jeff joker moreau #commander shepard #angela shepard #mass effect #mass effect fanfic #mass effect fic #hurt and comfort #some angst #and fluff #and a bunny

[cyberxilophone]

A Canine Bond (Jackgosi Weight Gain)

Legosi; An 18-year-old that has been a predatory offender for a full year. His life is monotone and tiring. It's like pushing a boulder up a mountain every single day, only for it to roll down. However, he gets offered a strange deal to get his life back… a deal that will cause him to expand massively, and of course, Jack is more than ready to support him. Perhaps… too supportive.

Legosi kept staring at the mountain of takeout left on his doorstep. Even after a few days of having let his current predicament rest, this situation still seemed completely unreal to him—a bizarre fantasy that was taken right out of a dream. 

Being a predatory offender was tough. He had probably lost half of the job opportunities lined up in his future, he was going to be wearing a muzzle whenever he went into a herbivore-owned district, and worst of all, it was the last straw that sent Haru over the edge. To say that their breakup was messy would be a gross understatement.

She still has me blocked…

Now, he spent his days working a delivery job with a boss that was far from kind. It was fine at the start, but after months of doing the same, the monotony had gotten unbearable and he was looking for an out. He had tried making appeals, but with the status of his supposed victim—the CEO of horns conglomerate—taken in mind, no sane animal would let that go. Louis couldn’t say anything either with the profitability of his company on the balance if he was to come out with the truth. Legosi was desperate, but not that desperate to tank an entire company.

Of course, the buck wasn’t ignorant about Legosi’s efforts to get his predator offender status taken off his permanent record. By the time he had contacted Legosi, calls from the organization in charge of handling devouring cases notifying him that the wolf had tried making an appeal had been filling up his answering machine for months.

Just go here, you dumb dog. Why didn’t you call me earlier? I could’ve solved this problem for you without so much trouble.

In his wallet was a strange business card that ended up taking him to the back alley market. In the midst of run-down apartments and shady hotels, the luxurious skyscraper in front of him stuck out like a sore thumb.

Moving up the opulent floors through the glass elevators, Legosi ended up in the penthouse of the building. He recognized the man waiting for him—a muscular, well-suited eagle—as the judge that supposedly went over his case. The sudden pressure caused him to barely process all the platitudes and greetings sent his way until he was sat down on a throne-like chair.

That was until the judge explained to him what the deal would be if he was to get his permanent record cleaned. Even after having a few days to sit on it, it was still incredibly difficult to believe. The eagle’s words kept ringing through his head as he gazed into the gargantuan amount of food he was going to be forced to eat

I’m a man of stature. Because of that, I can’t find the time to indulge myself without… nosy individuals trying to pry into what I desire. You, wolf boy, are going to act as my proxy. What I want is very simple; I have a strong fascination for… bigger men, you could say. However, my fixation extends to turning scrawny men like you into stalwart symbols of weight and nourishment.

…

I’m sorry, did you not understand? If you want a favor from me, I want a favor from you. If you want that permanent record wiped clean, you better grow for me, understand? Think of it… as a preventative measure to avoid you eating more herbivore limbs, understand?

“I just can’t believe that he really wants this. I expected something else…” 

Food from pretty much every fast food chain in the city rested atop the dining table. When Jack first saw it, he almost threw a fit because he believed Legosi was going to throw a party without telling him. Of course, the actual answer behind the food being there didn’t leave him any less perplexed.

“So, are you really going to go through all of this? I can’t help but feel like he’s taking advantage of you, Legosi.”

“I’m not clueless, Jack. He’s certainly using me for his own pleasure, but it’s not like I can do anything about this.” The wolf shrugged in reluctance. The discomfort of morphing his body would be nothing compared to the relief brought upon a clean record. “I just don’t know where to start. I don’t really like fast food, in all honesty.”

“Then why did you order so much? If you’re going to eat a lot, you might as well enjoy it.” Jack—completely unprompted—moved most of the bags off the table and to their shared kitchen. Not without whining and puffing his cheeks from the sheer exertion, of course. “If you want a feast, I can help with that! Just let me know what you want and I’ll have it done before you can go and beat someone up.”

Moving past the small dig at his reckless behavior, Legosi gazed at his friend in confusion. Despite the almost nonsensical dilemma, they found themselves in, Jack was taking it in stride and devoting all of himself to it.

“Are you sure? I mean-“

“No buts!” Jack insisted. “Now, tell me what you want! If you want to get that permanent record nice and clean, you better get your personal chef all your most desired meals!”

At first, Legosi didn’t know what to say. On instinct, he just blurted his favorite meal—egg salad sandwiches—without too much thought. If he were to look at it in retrospect, it was probably the best choice he could’ve made at the time.

Jack didn’t just make an egg salad sandwich. The giant omelet—stuffed to the brim with spices and a variety of cut-up tofu pieces—was stuffed between a garlic baguette and served up with a refreshing jug of orange juice. It looked appetizing—the total contrast of the quantity over quality approach Legosi initially wanted to go with.

After the first bite, everything was a blur. Legosi dug into the dish like it was his last. Every bite sent pleasurable tremors down his spine, and that wasn’t the best part; the scent of all the spices and proteins invaded his nostrils and formed a fog around his mind—nothing but the food mattering at that second. He even managed to forget that Jack was there, resulting in manners being completely thrown out of the window.

And then, the situation snowballed from there. Jack wasn’t just a great chef, but a very insistent one. The labrador would even be willing to arrive late to his classes if it meant assuring that Legosi ate every single last bite from his meals, and the portions that he served to the gray wolf were nothing to scoff at. They were so abundant that Legosi was sure that they could both get a normal portion from the giant dish and still be satisfied, yet he was the one piling three person’s worth of food with every meal.

And of course, three meals would simply not do if Legosi ever wanted to get to the weight goal the judge had set for him. Jack was sure to remind him of it when he whined about not wanting to get a midnight snack. The worry usually went away by the time he was eating his fourth donut and the overwhelming amount of sugar dancing around his mouth.

To Legosi, it looked like Jack was the one with the permanent record on the line with how obsessed he was over the entire thing. Still, he wasn’t going to reject Jack’s help… even if it was an arduous task.

///

Right now, the calendar marked two months since he and Jack started this experiment. The bed creaked in relief as the springs were relieved of the pressure of holding up his fat body. When he started, he was 170 pounds. He had always considered himself big, but according to the judge, he was practically skin and bones.

Now, he was double that. His toned, flat chest had now expanded outwards—spilling over his sides and hanging off in the air. His toned, square abs were now soft, round plush man tits that were filling out his chest and making finding shirts that could wrap around his frame borderline impossible. 

His bottom half didn’t fare any better either. Almost all of his pants had been thrown out and replaced with sweatpants with an elastic waistband—sweatpants that still somehow managed to give him trouble every single time that he tried putting them on. Pushing them above his plump, grey-blue rear was a challenge that he faced every morning and time he sat down-

When he sent the picture of his progress—completely red-faced with nothing but his underwear just as the judge had ordered—Legosi expected to be near his oh so desired freedom. He had never felt more lethargic and slower. He just wanted-no, needed this to be over already so he could get his old body back.

That’s what he was hoping would happen. What actually ended up happening was that the judge—drunk on power and lust—pushed the deadline further into being undefined. He said that ‘he won’t let his plump pup’ go just yet.  

Legosi was distraught. The only comfort that he could find through his constant expansion was the fact that he had a set goal in mind. It was supposed to be a crushing defeat, but before he could fall into despair, he suddenly felt Jack’s tender hand brush against the bottom of his sagging belly.

“Well, no time to waste!” Jack chipperly exclaimed. It was like the new goal invigorated his resolve rather than worsening his woes. “Come on, we need to get you bigger!”

Legosi looked down at his stomach. It felt massive—like he had turned into the whale of Jack’s history lesson. There was so much softness around his body that it felt unnatural. “Jack, I don’t know about this. Maybe we’re going too fa-” His sentence and thoughts were stopped abruptly with a muffin shoved straight into his muzzle. The sugar almost acts like an aphrodisiac at his point—his stomach rumbling for more as he swallows. 

He’s an addict—not just to the sugar, but to the overwhelming care Jack had pushed on him for the two months they’ve been doing this. The labrador doesn’t let him spend a moment without being aware of how big he’s gotten.

“Plus, you look sooo cute!” Jack pushes his belly up before letting it drop. Seeing it jiggle like a giant ball of gelatin was something that the labrador couldn’t miss out on. His wandering hands always ended up rubbing Legosi’s belly whenever it was possible; rubbing his belly to soothe a stomachache, leaping in for surprise hugs from the back, and even small touches when helping him get dressed. “I think that I like you more like this.”

“Huh?” 

The idea was utterly incomprehensible to him. His doughy, pillowy body rippled whenever he moved. Hanging flab would swing whenever he moved too fast, and all that extra lard meant that he was sweating buckets. Almost all of his clothes ended up totally soaked as a result.

Still, his confusion didn’t seem to deter Jack. Moving past his belly, the labrador took some time to tenderly squeeze Legosi’s man boobs. He was about to blurt for him to stop, but the sudden burst of pleasure from Jack squeezing his nipples made his complaint turn into a desperate moan. 

“That’s it, Legosi.” Jack cooed. “How about you lay down for me? I’m sure that you’re very hungry.” 

Legosi did as told. His tail wagged side to side as he sat on the edge of the bed. For as wrong as he knew this was, his instincts were pushing him forward. A voice in his head whispered to him that this wasn’t so bad—that this was meant to be—that he was too far gone to ever return to his old lifestyle anyways—and most importantly, that it simply felt too good to give up.

Jack walked into the room—tray with a giant birthday cake in hand. His smug, yet chipper grin resembled one of a Cheshire cat. He didn’t need to say another word for Legosi to know his intentions.

Legosi opened his mouth, and let the rush of sweet flavors invade his body, mind, and soul. It was euphoric. Each bite that he took only strengthened the voice’s volume—drowning out his rational thoughts in a cacophony of indulgence and debauchery. He chewed not with hunger but pure gluttony. The act to eat was more important than if he was filled. To him, all that mattered was the gratification from the act itself.

He was an addict—a very proud one.  

///

By now, Legosi’s clean record was completely clean. He and Jack could’ve stopped this routine a long time ago. They didn’t stop—of course they didn’t—They couldn’t stop. It wasn’t just a matter of want, but a matter of their desires being so intertwined and overflowing that they simply couldn’t control themselves.

The judge requested no further than six hundred pounds. He came into their apartment every once in a while to marvel at the fruits of his exertion—gawking at Legosi as if he was some sort of trophy. He would prod and poke at Legosi’s swelling gut. Each time, he would react even more joyously at his growth.

Jack—despite being green with envy at how another man was manhandling his doughy wolf—stood proudly as he lifted Legosi’s fold to show that the wolf had been thoroughly washed by hand now that he couldn’t fit into the shower anymore. He was as caring as a nurse if Legosi was his patient—a comparison that Jack took some sick comfort out of.

Legosi was now bedbound. He had been for a long time. His tree trunk-wide legs were almost completely buried underneath his gut. His doughy stomach was composed of folds upon folds. It spilled in all directions—the intense heft being distributed all over the bed. 

His arms had grown as much as his legs. His sedentary lifestyle had caused his arm muscles to wither and grow weak. He could barely lift up his limbs—his record time was four continuous seconds before his fat folds forced so much weight on him that he broke under the pressure and collapsed them on his belly.  

“It’s been three months since you hit nine hundred and fifty. I’m sure that you’re as excited as me to check if you’ve hit our long-term goal!” 

Jack’s tail swished back and forth. To imagine that an animal could be half a ton was something that he only ever imagined in fantasies, but here he had the culmination of two years of hard work. He had to thank the judge for pushing Legosi over the edge and sending him into a life of complete sloth.

The industrial scale had already been set up underneath the bed thanks to the judge. Both he and Jack were invested in seeing how fast they could turn Legosi into a half-a-ton pile of blubber. Legosi—who was now mostly silent thanks to his cheeks having grown so lardy that speech was pretty much impossible—whined with the tone they established to be for affirmations. 

The digital display slowly kept increasing. Each second felt eternal. Jack bit his lip in anticipation, and then, the awaited number hit.

“YES!” Jack screamed before leaping towards Legosi. He sunk into Legosi’s belly as if the wolf’s midsection was a water bed. “Ah, Legosi… We did it! You’ve just made me the happiest dog in the entire world!”

Legosi rumbled kindly in return… not before his own stomach groaned not too long after.

“I know, big guy. You’re feeling hungry, aren’t you?” Jack ruffled Legosi’s head with a caring pet. “Now, let me get you your third breakfast!”

#weight gain #fat belly #fat fur #furry commissions #writing #legosi #legoshi #beastars #jack beastars

[pbandjesse]

I am at my parents house! It has been really nice spending the day with my mom and hanging out with my dad. It was a very good day.

I did not sleep well though. I think I was stressed about the drive today. Getting out here and having my legs hurt. Which thankfully was not as bad today. And honestly all of my fears ended up being for nothing.

I really couldn't sleep though. The blanket texture was wrong. I had the wrong pillow. Sweetp would come sleep with me. I was just not having fun. But I woke up and felt really good!

I got dressed and was planning on wearing a cardigan but I changed my mind last minute so I could wear my sweatshirt and have it for sleeping in later. This was a good plan.

I packed the mini donuts James got for me and poured a soda and was off.

But then I really didn't like the donut. It was a lemon glaze and I sometimes have an issue with glazes that makes my mouth numb. So I decided to stop at the McDonald's by the museum and stop to give James a hug.

And I am glad I stopped. I got my hug. I gave them the donut that I didn't eat. And was off.

I got my hash brown. And was pleasantly surprised that just two hash browns is almost the price of one has brown. So I will go back to making my sandwich at home when I can. Save some money.

My drive out was great hoenslty. I listened to a podcast for the first half of the drive and music for the second half. The sun got a little hot on me so I did have to shed the sweatshirt. But that was fine.

I got to my parents at 11. Texted James to let them know I was here. And saw that there was someone else here too! It was the occupational therapist. They were working with my dad and she was very nice.

Dad looked good! I am glad he is getting color back. And he seemed pretty good this morning. He was a little more tired and sore by the afternoon and evening. But overall I'm happy for him. It is a little weird seeing his stump where his leg was. Like he's just a little uneven looking. But I am already over it. Like he's doing so good and I'm really proud of him.

We spent some time just hanging out. Mom and dad and me. Then mom went to get washed up and me and dad just talked.

We talked about the wedding and things we have accomplished. Things that have bothered me. And dad backed me up so that was very affirming. Love my dad very much.

Once mom was ready we headed to lunch. I got to drive. I really think I can count on one hand how many times in my life I've driven my mom somewhere. So it felt like a moment.

But I didn't crash the car or anything so we are all good. We went to friendly's for lunch.

The parking lot was empty and we weren't sure they were open. But they were. We joked with the staff that we should have two tables just to fill the empty restaurant in a little more. But we did sit together. And we got our grilled cheese sandwiches (mom got the legendary chicken one) and we just talked.

We talked about the wedding and life and it was just so good spending time together. I feel like it's been so long since we spent any real time together. With covid and my dad being hurt and just things being so much. We barely get this time together anymore. And I was going to take advantage of it. I showed her the posters and signs we have made for the wedding. We gossiped and talked and I had some big laughs. Apparently at the bridal shower Charlotte and my aunt Nadine talked and Nadine said something about Charlotte working with high schoolers and how they are and Charlotte just said "they're fucking animals" and I tell you. When mom told me this I laughed so loud I almost screamed. It was so silly.

We left the restaurant and headed to pick up the kilts!!! They are here!!! So me and mom went and drove the 15 minutes there. Had to go to New Jersey. And they were so nice. I did not pull the kilts out of the box (I wanted to wait until I'm with James tomorrow to see them) but I got to touch them and see the tartan yardage we got extra and it just felt like. Finally. Thank god.

We learned a little about Kelly green and how fabric dye lays on different fabrics. And the guy was nice enough to carry the box to the car. I was going to carry it but he wanted to be a gentleman and I wasn't going to take that from him.

We got everything in the car and I was just like. Okay what now. I was in a great mood. And I didn't want to stop hanging out with mom yet. So we decided to go get groceries. But first we would go to the restore and buy some fun stuff.

I love restore. I should go to them more often because they actually still thrift store prices. I got three books and a cigar box and two tins and some little ceramic flowers for $12!!! And really I was just having a blast looking at stuff and laughing with mom and wandering around. We almost bought a chair but we didn't know how to get it home so we decided not to.

And the over to the grocery store. Where mom let me get angle food cake and tres leches. Which later I would describe as wet cake and that lead to me and dad calling is Mexican wet cake. Which had us scream laughing.

We also found a cell phone and returned that to a cashier. But we got everything mom needed. Talked about foods. Talked about boycotting bad companies and how hard that is because almost every company is owned by the same 5 larger companies.

We headed back home. And brought everything in. And I spent basically the rest of the night hanging out in the couch with my parents. Watching TV. I watched tiktoks and scrolled on my phone. We had cake for dinner and lots of laughs. And then dad was being goofy and to sleepy.

Mom helped him get ready for bed. Did all his meds and nighttime stuff. His leg wound looked pretty good honestly. I'm glad. The stump is still strange but he's doing really good and I'm proud of him. And I'm proud of mom for everything she does.

I went to take a shower and realized it needed to be cleaned. So after I got dressed I scrubbed the bathtub and wiped everything down. Just to help a little. And once I was out of energy for that I went to hang out with mom in the kitchen for a little bit.

We had ice tea and talked. Played with the dogs. And now I am just ready to get some sleep. I think I'll go give mom another hug first.

Sleep good everyone. I hope you have a great day tomorrow.