#[tails voice] my power is failing!

[dagaan]

🩸Carmilla🩸

(from Island’s Shiv/Frye fic Girlfriend; please give it a read!)

[jyoongim]

Alastors lover who is such small happy thing, always smiling but not like alastor creepy way, and who always dot on alastor and babies him. She never really got scared of him and always looks at him in awe in his demon form.

Think it would be amusing, hell even he would find it amusing such a small thing fussing and being overprotective on him.

You were quite a pleasant addition to the hotel. 

Unlike your partner, you were sweet and helpful.

Alastor thought your presence would ease the frazzled nerves of the residents if you were by his side.

You always wore a smile on your face, it wasn’t like Alastor’s ever present and malicious smile. 

It was genuine.

It was interesting to see how you and Alastor interacted.

The Overlord didnt mind your touches and fretting. He let you do what you please.

The two of you were polar opposites.

But opposite attract…and in those case it was just fascinating.

You were in the kitchen preparing dinner. Humming a soft tune as you cooked.

Most of the residents weren’t picky eaters and they loved your cooking, so you prepared something that everyone would like.

Once you finished everyone’s dinner, you started on making Alastor’s.

Alastor had rather peculiar tastes.

The kitchen filled with the residents as the smell of food wafted through the hotel.

You already had their plates prepared and dressed. Multiple voices chirped with appreciative remarks as they dug in.

Your smile widened when soft static filled the air, a feathery touch wrapped around you before Alastor’s voice greeted your ears.

”Morning doll! Dont you look hellish today” 

Your big doe eyes turned to greet his sharp ones.

“Good morning Al. Take a seat, Im almost done cookinng”

The tall red demon hummed as he took a seat at the table.

His ears flicked as you approach with a steaming plate.

”I hope you like it. Im not sure of the taste. I’ve never cooked flesh before but it looked a bit like sausage so I think it’ll be ok”

You heard several gags.

Alastor waved you off, picking up a fork “Oh I’m sure its fine. Your cooking ain’t ever failed me yet”

You finally took a seat to enjoy your own plate.

You chatted with the gang. Laughing at Angel’s jokes and agreeing with Charlie’s plans and offering advice for the day and talking with Vaggie.

Once dinner was over, everyone went about their night.

It was only you and Alastor left.

He sighed as he finished his food. “You have quite a way in the kitchen my dear. Dinner was delicious”

You giggled, taking his plate to wash.

The two of you chatted as you washed the dishes. He slithered behind you, arms wrapping around your waist as his head settled on your shoulder.

The two of you stood there in bliss until you finished and turned around.

“Why don’t you listen in on a broadcast tonight? Im sure you’ll find it entertaining” he chuckled.

You smiled as he escorted you to his radio tower.

———————————————————————-

“Alastor you need to see the tailor. Look at this!” You scowled as you held up his tail coat. The ends were raggedy, it was missing a button or two, and needed a few adjustments.

Alastor chuckled “I will make time to visit when Im out today”

You shook your head “No ill do it. You have a meeting today so don’t worry” Alastor’s brows raised “Then what am I to wear dear?”

You rummaged through the closet and pulled out another jacket. 

Alastor’s shadow wrapped around you, purring happily as you helped Alastor get ready.

Once he was properly dressed he bided you a goodbye before you stopped him.

You held his tie ”You’re not dressed properly. You want to be fully dress to terrorize the masses”

You smiled as you began to tie his bow tie around his neck. Alastor tilted his head as he watched you. You were much smaller compared to the demon. He watched as you focused on your task and mumble to yourself. You were so cute. Such a sweet soul you were. Fretting over a powerful Overlord.

Once in place, you fluffed it out and soothed out any wrinkles in his attire.

You beamed once you took a step back and admired your work. “There all ready and fashionable”

Alastor looked in the mirror and smiled at your work.

While he usually dressed in red, you had put him in black. You tucked a red handkerchief in his breast pocket and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

Static popped and buzzed affectionately and before he could pull you into him, you pushed him to the door. “Now off with you. You have a busy day”

—————————————————————————-

Your small fame stood in front of Alastor as a sinner pulled his knife. You were growling and your hair swirled around you as your demonic form appeared.

The sinner laughed “Tsk! What man need a woman to defend him? Haha! Why don’t you settle down sweetheart hmm? After I kill this loser I can show you what a real man is like” he said suggestively, making your eyes narrow.

A large hand touched your shoulder “I can handle this dear” the sinner’s eyes widened as Alastor transformed and went to scream, but inky, black tentacles shot out from behind you to grab the demon.

Alastor stalked past you and tore into the demon, ripping him apart.

While most found Alastor’s demon form terrifying, you found it beautiful.

You watched as blood and limbs flew about, but you focused on Alastor.

He had grew twice his size, black antlers flared out and tall, deep growls and manic laughter erupted from his chest.

He sighed and patted himself down as he turned his nose up at the mess. Your hand skimmed his arm, to alert him of your presence. When he turned to you, blood covered his face. You lifted the hem of your dress and dapped it at his face, tutting “This face is too handsome to be covered in blood. You sure made a mess…Look at you! Its gonna take me forever to get these stains out” you huffed as you wiped his face clean. You smiled once he was clean. “Next time let m take care of it. I am perfectly capable of protecting myself or you if need be”

Alastor let out a chuckle, placing a claw under your chin. He leaned in to place a soft kiss to your lips

”You are very amusing my dear. Most cower in fear at my presence”

You rolled your eyes, lips curling wide “You don’t scare me Mr. Radio Demon” you leaned into him as he wrapped an arm around you and went about the day.

What a interesting little soul you were indeed.

[hana-no-seiiki]

Hana hana hana-merfolk batfam baeeeeeeee MERFOLK BATFAM like ✨

once again, my name is yun, not hana. but omfg yes!!!!

these men are already beautiful asf, imagine if they had the magic, allure, and voices of merfolk? the world can’t handle that fr

dick would 100% be the one to drag their darling into the depths of the ocean, uncaring of how they cant even breathe there and whatnot. if anything that gives you the need to rely on them for traveling and whatnot.

jason is part shark. used to be a normal merman til the king’s (bruce) enemy (joker) maimed him since he lost his little merman bet (kissing you before sundown) he was eventually revived with a shark used as sacrifice / to be a part of him dungeon meshi style. ofc his last thought was of you. he spends his days roaming the sea and making sure that you’re safe. although his definition of what endangers you is pretty lax (he has eaten a part of dick’s tail once after the kidnapping)

tim also did the little merman bet with joker but actually succeeded. (except it was a non con, somnophillic kiss) and was really fucken mad when dick ruined it all by making you go underwater anyways. before that he used to stalk you vehemently and would leave dead fish at the places you frequented.

damian wanted you above water as soon as possible. a human had no place in his father’s kingdom. unfortunately he failed to account the fact that if you were able to charm his brothers, you would easily worm your way into his heart. he’s the one who turns you into a mermaid/merman/siren courtesy of his royal blood.

overall this au is like the bloodiest so far cause the boys having powers/vastly different views on how to have you/not being vigilantes or having the safety of others in their mind makes for one hell of a ride

(bruce eventually turns tim back into a merman, the latter promptly punching dick for making all his work and suffering meaningless)

[lavender-romancer]

Push it Down

Astarion x GN Reader

Everyday it got worse, the longing stares interrupted when La’zel would curiously catch your eyeline always straying to Astarion. Or how you would always inextricably walk next to him regardless of the goal ahead. Shadowheart would often question if Astarion had to open “every lock we find” at your request. But you couldn't help it, being near him, with him was all you would think about

AN: Astarion brainrot is a real condition people. Lots of lovely fluff.

You're a squishy wizard

*°*°•.˜”*°•.˜”*°•.˜”*°••°*”˜.•°*”˜.•°*”˜.•°*”°*

“Do you have to make your feelings so obvious that it's painful?” Shadowheart asked as you looked through some random boxes you found in what remained of moonhaven.

“Do you have to bring this up again?” You jabbed back with a smile. “I'm not ashamed of it, but I will never outright admit it.”

“Lady of Sorrows guide you, I don't know how you're able to stand with your debilitating lack of a spine.” She raised her eyebrow and you simply rolled your eyes “Here, go give these to your boy-toy.” Handing you a few thieves' tools Shadowheart walked to another side of the room and continued looting.

You scampered outside, only realising when you were in front of Astarion how desperate it must have looked to run up to him like a dog wagging its tail excitedly. He was unlocking a chest that was one in a big group La'zel and Karlach had put together for him to deal with.

“Here,” you held out the tools with a smile that was much too big for such a small token.

“Thank you, darling.” He smiled up at you. “You're looking particularly overjoyed, what's got you so energetic?”

“Uh… looting.” You never were good at lying.

“Thank the Gods you never became a politician because your inability to deceive is one of your greatest qualities.” He opened the chest he had been working on.

“I suppose. But I wish I was better at more things like that, it just makes me so nervous to not be honest.” You fidgeted with your hands.

“Well, for starters you need to be better at improvising, it is adorable to see you try and lie to anyone and fail miserably. I'm convinced you should just be completely honest and people might not believe you.” Standing up he brushed the dust off his trousers and you were now face to face. Given, a few steps apart but it still made you smile and your feet shuffle anxiously.

“The tadpole has definitely made me better at lying, you have to at least admit that.” You were practically beaming, staring at him in awe.

“Still, you carry most of your emotions in your eyes and your inability to stop smiling. You'll get there eventually my friend, probably, I mean probably not but it's very sweet that you continue to try. Anyways, we should head back to camp for the evening I am positively spent.” Astarion walked past you to pick up his backpack and you internally groaned.

It was so deeply embarrassing when you couldn't keep your emotions hidden. A problem you had usually put down to anxiousness, but realistically it was just something you had to learn to live with. You were an open book with almost no air of mystique about you. Maybe that was why Astarion seemed so utterly uninterested in seeking anything but friendship or a quick night of passion.

As you lay in your tent, you conjured a mage hand to throw books at you to try and practice your telekinesis but it was going dreadfully. Whilst your magic was growing back to it's former strength before the tadpole you were still plagued by poor reaction times to basically anything. One quite powerful throw from the conjured hand hit your arm and you yelped, sure that it would leave a bruise.

“What mischief are you up too now?” A voice suddenly asked, distracting you from the task at hand as a book hit you square in the face.

“Fuck!” You exclaimed, dismissing the mage hand and rubbing your nose.

“Are you trying to be agile again? You know how that ended up last time.” Astarion joked as he entered your tent and sat down opposite you.

A funny but painful memory entered your mind when you had tried to climb over a very small wall to surprise some goblins and had instead ended up on your back in front of them. If falling over in front of some goblins wasn't bad enough, you had also slipped in grease that was extremely easy to avoid alerting the whole horde to your party's location. The bollocking you got from La'zel after that encounter made you promise to work on your ability to not be “such a fucking Wizard” whatever that meant.

“No, surprisingly I was failing at something else.” You quipped back at him, “anyways, did you want to feed or-”

“No, well yes but, I wanted to talk to you.” He licked his lips absentmindedly and seeing the slight glint of his fangs off the light of your candle made your eyes grow wider. You never knew you'd have a thing for vampires…

“Oh! Do uhm, talk away.” You cringed at your inability to string a sentence together.

“I- look. I know that I am beautiful and wonderful darling, but have you been looking at me slightly differently lately?” he asked, you could almost sense that he was nervous but you weren't sure why.

“What do you mean?” You responded with your eyes fixated on your bedroll on the floor as the alarm bells rang in your head.

“With more longing behind your eyes?” You hadn't noticed that same longing in his eyes which was often present in your gaze.

“Who- I- why did you get that impression?” You fumbled through your words and began fiddling with your robe.

“Oh, I…” he trailed off and you finally looked up, sensing his dejected tone you cocked your head.

“You sound disappointed.” Your tone was soft in an attempt to stop him from running away from the conversation.

“Disappointed? Darling if I wanted you I could most certainly have you.” Having returned to his snarky sense of security you frowned.

“Is that why you seem so annoyed? Because I rejected you before?” Your mind went back to drinking red wine with him, the sour taste filling your nose all over again. It wasn't that you didn't want him, you just didn't want the first time you could spend the night with him to be clouded with alcohol and regret. Maybe it had bruised his ego but there were so many reasons to try to let your bond grow overtime.

“You think that wounded me? I have laid with thousands and I'll lay with thousands more before I am hurt by that!” He exclaimed but you could see the hurt in his eyes that he struggled to hide.

“I didn't want it to be like that. Something that you might feel like was a mistake, a drunken mishap you'd rather forget. I didn't- I don't want you to think I did it because I did not want it. Under different circumstances things would have been different for me.” Clasping your hands together you tried to reach his gaze but it was so accusatory that it was making your heart pound.

“I- I don't think I've ever been rejected as tactfully as you did.” Astarion almost laughed with a far-away look in his eyes.

“It didn't feel genuine and I couldn't allow myself to be swept up in all of it knowing that we weren't on the same page with our feelings about one another.” Smiling sadly you looked at the book that had previously hit you in the face, pushing it to the side you moved a bit closer to him. “I'm sorry that you felt like you had to do that, that night I mean. Correct me if I'm wrong, please.”

“I'm not sure how you know me so well that it's almost concerning.” His voice sounded strained as he departed from his snarky performative notes.

“You've become my favourite distraction through all of this shit we've dealt with. I really like being around you, it will be a shame when it all comes to an end when we get to Baldurs Gate.” your voice didn't show your true sadness but your eyes certainly did and Astarion could tell.

“I was hidden for so many years within those city walls, imprisoned and kept as a loyal pet before the nautiloid. A grim reality was the only way to escape the even worse life I was living and… I never thought I'd make friends let alone feel connected to someone. But you, you're thoughtful and sweet and respectful and too perceptive for your own good but so silly and honestly so bad as hiding that it's hilarious. Finding someone who understands you is a great gift and I would not like to squander it.” Astarion reached out his hand and it shook slightly as he showed his true vulnerability. You looked from his hand to his face, it was genuine and really from everything you could gather, it seemed like he was being the most honest he'd ever been with you.

“You want to stay together?” Your voice was so hopeful as your head told you that you were an idiot.

“Yes. You fool. Was that not clear. Now hold my hand so we're not both fools.” He rolled his eyes and you hurriedly held his hand. Your clamminess was immediately obvious given his hand was ridiculously cold. “God you mortals are always sweaty aren't you.” He gave you a cheeky smile and you had to laugh or you'd descend into an anxiety ridden madness.

“Do you want to stay here tonight? I would enjoy a cuddle.” You asked.

“Just a cuddle Darling?” He flirted but there was still that look behind his eyes that was there after the tiefling party. The look you had come to understand was the dogma drilled into him to seduce, sleep with and then sacrifice all his conquests. Sex wasn't the same in Astarion's head as it was in yours but you didn't mind, it wasn't important to you.

“Just a cuddle.” You smiled in a way that you hoped was supportive and whilst he looked surprised he didn't seem disappointed. “Come here,” you lay down on the pillows and invited him to chest.

Whilst tentative he rested his head on your chest and slowly placed his hand on your arm. You without warning wrapped your arms around him in a squeeze of a hug that would probably suffocate someone who wasn't already dead. But he seemed to appreciate it as he nuzzled under your chin and his body began to relax. You stayed like that for a while until you began to snore and Astarion peeled himself from your embrace. He sat up and started to read, every so often glancing down at you. How an earth had he allowed himself to fall for a Wizard?

Astarion Taglist:

@anukulee

[viviswtings]

Alcohol wet.

So I've just been drawing Neteyam like the simp I am, and it's going great. He's inspiring me so much I got to write a whole thing for him.

Words: 2627.

Warnings: suggestive fluff? Is that a thing? Also not proof-read. Just finished and posted. English isn't my first language and there are words I'm iffy about all over. Tell me if something doesn't make sense.

The characters are aged up. Like, in their twenties sort of aged up. Don't come after me. Or do. Idk.

“Shit, you’re beautiful “

He exhaled against her face, his breath smelling of the sweet, fruity liquor he had been sipping all night.

Up until this point he had been slurring his words, letting them fall off his purple stained lips, all buttery and soft- his speech, that is- without seemingly any care for if she could understand them or not.

But this. This he said clearly. Like a cloudless day, after a particularly dark eclipse. She understood every single word, and she was exhilarated when she did.

How sweet his voice came out, how his plushy, swollen lips had caressed every word like he knew exactly what place in her heart they were meant to fit into. Taking that little space she had once made for him and making it bigger and bigger, so all her feelings may fit within her chest.

He was staring at her from up close, his nose almost touching hers. Those big, golden eyes that let her see her own reflection in the dilated pupil. She hoped he meant it, that, in his eyes, she truly was beautiful.

But alcohol did its thing as the warrior pursed hisr lips and got closer. She turned her head as quickly as she realized, for she had reacted too slowly, having been immersed in his gaze and almost gotten lost in it.

The peck on her cheek was wet, and she couldn’t help but laugh at the distressed sound off Neteyam’s chest once he figured he had failed his attempt. Leaning back to look at him, it was impossible not to smile.

His face was turned towards the ground, while his stare remained on her, brow furrowed and lips pouted. His ears, now flushing almost pink, laid tense flat against his braided hair, all the muscles in his body were tense as his tail flicked from side to side behind him. It was comical. The great, mighty warrior Neteyam te Suli was butthurt. Because she had denied him a kiss.

Maybe it was right at this very moment that a part of her mind, in the furthest back off it, has come to understand she had some power over him. But perhaps she didn’t, and it was all the liquor’s fault, for it had made her delusional.

Seconds in silence had passed, which, given the previous circumstances, was unusual. The young warrior had started bragging about all his feats as soon as the alcohol had settled in. Talking nonsense about how his father barely had to teach him anything, how he was a natural, fishing when he was still using a children’s bow, being the youngest hunter to make his first kill and finishing his ikniyama at the ripe age of just thirteen years old. He almost made her ears fall off, but she did have a special soft spot for him and his slurred, rhythmic and almost-purr like nonsense. So, she had listened attentively all the same.

“Do you not want me?” Was the first thing that left his lips after his failed strategy. She did not expect the look of doubt carved into his features. Like his worst nightmare had become true, like he was… afraid.

Her heart skipped various beats that made her throat close, so no words could come out. She couldn’t flat out reject him just because he was drunk, but saying she did-and oh, she did want him- would risk him not remembering the next morning. Even worse, he could regret it, stop talking to her altogether and leave her with the hope of finally fulfilling her one wish.

It could also escalate and she was not about to take advantage of a drunken man twice her size.

“Nete” Her voice came out as an exhale, like she had been holding her breath all along. “You… ask me tomorrow” Was her final answer, hushed, but with a bit more confidence. If he didn’t ask, she could just presume he didn’t remember and not risk her own heart being shattered.

His ears twitched, his tail stopped, and he got closer again, to which she retreated, trying to avert his eyes. What would happen if she even dared to look back at him? It scared her, so she didn’t.

Then the rough skin of his fingertips came in contact with her forearms, making the hairs on the back of her head rise up and her body tense even more.

“I will” He pressed another kiss to her cheek, a little bit further away from the corner of her mouth, much softer and velvety and leaving no trace of wetness. At least, not on her cheek.

“Alright” She muttered, barely above a whisper, much too afraid of the people around them finding out the oloe’ytakan talking in such an intimate way with her. Both of his hands on her, caressing the skin of her knuckles with his thumb while he kept hold of her forearm, as if to keep her close, to not let her distance herself too much.

He had been resting his chin on her shoulder, face almost cradled in the hollow of her neck, when he was rudely interrupted by a deep, guttural grunt he knew all too well. It would’ve had him standing straight and knocking the air off him in any other situation. But Neteyam was way too comfortable, skin all warm, hands busy and mind fuzzy with the sweetest smell.

Then he felt a hand around his neck, the woman almost under him getting impossibly straight and tense when she pulled her arms away from him. Breath tickled his ear, making him uncomfortable. “Up, boy. Don’t make me repeat myself”.

So he did. All his body screamed against it, but Neteyam got up, not looking down, unable to see the flustered girl he had left on the ground, fidgeting with her tail and head low in shame. He would’ve sobered up in a second if he had. Or so he’d most likely want to believe.

But the older man did see her. As a matter of fact, he always saw her, he did see all of the members of the clan, old or young, gatherer or warrior, it was his duty. He took pride in it. He loved his people.

But that girl, ever since she arrived, she had his eldest running around like a headless chicken. He wasn’t blind, nor a fool, the kid was sweet and very pretty indeed. That, and he knew better than to meddle with young passions, given his own record. His son had crossed a line, though. As he himself had witnessed his son make a fool of himself all night.

“C’mere, sweetheart” He offered his hand to the girl, smiling her way when she looked up at him. “How about we walk you home and I’ll take care of this one for the night”.

She smiled back, taking the five-fingered hand with her own, to which Jake pulled her up, ready in case he had to help her with her balance. But she did just fine, maybe a bit wobbly on her feet, but not a major inconvenience.

The walk to her hut was almost silent, with Neteyam’s head hanging low, too immersed in his own thoughts to even mind his step. If he didn’t know the paths of High Camp like the back of his hand, he might have found it really difficult to find his footing.

Jake only ever broke the silence with politeness, asking how they were doing- to which his son only grumbled-, and making small talk with the girl. He knew her just enough to know what to ask and keep the light smile with jokes as long as the small walk lasted. If he could make his girls laugh, this one shouldn’t have been too much different. Thankfully, he was right.

Once they got to their destination, he stepped back, leaving way for his son so he may have his privacy.

Neteyam knew he should thank his father for the chance, but forgot all about it once he had to put two words together.

“I will ask” He repeated, lowering his eyes to meet her own. He had thought about what he should say all the way there, yet he found himself dumbfounded, incapable of remembering a single thing.

“Alright” She answered back, just as she did before, hands clasping in front of her, knuckles a yellowish shade of green as she gripped onto her own fingers, her nails drawing recent shapes on her palm.

“You will accept” He sounded far more confident than his beating heart would’ve ever let her know. But this surge of confidence lasted long enough for him to hold her hands in his, so she wouldn’t hurt herself anymore. “Then I’ll have you, as you have me”.

She was choking on thin air. The way he was staring her down, brow stern and lips sealed tightly into a line, while making those statements as if he already knew. As if he was laying his head against her chest and hearing her breath catch and her heart beating furiously against her ribs. Like it was the only possible, reasonable outcome.

She had him? Never in her life had she dared to bluff such nonsense. While every young woman almost paraded around him: the nicest singers, the prettiest dancers, the most skilled healers… Every single woman with the least bit of status within High Camp took the slightest chance to be near him. She simply existed, not particularly away from him, but afraid to get so close it would end up hurting her.

Why wouldn’t they? She may laugh at her “mighty warrior” comments, but she knew they were true. He was mighty, and as tall as he was slim, agile and strong. His hair was thick and his hands looked almost heavenly when he put it up for hunting parties, his long neck and the line of his shoulders in display while the muscles in his back flexed, almost knocking the air out of her lungs.

Just as he did now. Luminous freckles making a soft path around his features, down his nose and over his cupid’s bow. He felt so soft pressed to her skin it made her tail move behind her nervously and her loins burn.

“Can I kiss you?”

He had gotten closer to her face once against, big eyes open in question, as he now held her by her arms, pulling her just a tad bit closer as he waited for an answer. If his father had heard him, he didn’t show. He cut her short before she could attempt to answer. “Not your lips”. The remark caught her off guard, but she didn’t know how to mind while he kept his beautiful, gleaming irises on her, like an expecting child asking to go play.

So, she nodded, in fear her words would fail her. Pushing far the thought of the man’s father being mere feet away. How could she deny him? Was she even supposed to? She did want him to kiss her, even though it felt wrong, knowing he was under the effects of the drink he had been having. A kiss it’s just a kiss, isn’t it? It only has the meaning you want to grant it.

All her facade fell precariously as Neteyam’s hands caressed her arms, heavy and warm, up to her shoulders, making her shiver as they made their home on her neck and held her jaw with his thumbs. Keeping her right where he wanted.

He kissed her left cheek, slowly, without making a noise, and she felt his eyelashes against her burning skin. When he went to the other cheek, she saw his eyes closing softly, as he pulled her closer by her neck. She let herself go, closing her own while his lips kissed her. As he looked at her again, she found her own hands clasping around his arms and a smile on his face. He kissed the bridge of her nose, letting out an amused huff.

His fingers made way into her hair, massaging her scalp, when she felt them lightly touch the base of her queue. Her whole body arched involuntarily into his, making her eyes close with her lips parted as he kissed her one last time in the middle of her forehead.

She looked delectable and Neteyam felt famished. Like a starved man, just torturing himself with the meal he could not have, as it wasn’t his for the taking.

He hadn’t meant to hold her like that, but the hazy look on her face had him in a chokehold and he couldn’t help himself. By the time he felt her queue against his fingers he knew he was utterly fucked. The way she molded against him, throwing her head back while she held onto him like a lifeline, her tail caressing his thigh absent-mindedly, just letting herself go in his arms like that. How was he to keep himself away from her, his father here or not. It was only her word holding him back from devouring her whole, just as she was right now.

He knew better than to approach a woman when she had drunk, but he also knew better than to drink himself stupid and there he was. If it wasn’t because he was holding onto her as much as she was onto him, he’d probably be face first on the dirt.

“Neteyam.” What a damn beautiful sound she had just made. He opened his eyes, pulling himself with all his might so he could look at her. “You should head home”. Home? Where was that place again? He’d rather not remember the way back and stay the night. But she wouldn’t have him, not then. “Your father is waiting”.

“Damn him.”  He thought out loud. “He can wait”.

She let out the giddiest of laughs and his heart could explode for all he cared.

“We can talk tomorrow”. He already knew. But right in that moment he felt nauseous at the thought of parting. Might as well hold onto her like a child so she’d coo him to sleep and calm all his worries.

“We will.” He remarked, kissing her forehead again.

“I know”. She ushered. “So go and sleep, so tomorrow may come sooner.”

Neteyam looked at her, like he had done so many times. At her pleasing features and her dimpled smile that reached her eyes. The Great Mother had made her all for him, he had no doubt. She couldn’t have made the most precious creature just to rip it away from him. She’d accept him, take him for herself and he’d be the happiest man.

But, of course, he couldn’t drag the whole affair forever. His father was, indeed, waiting for him and his patience was running thin. “Kid, c’mon. You need a nap.”

So, he hugged her, tightly, so close to him she would feel his heart against hers. He needed a home for it inside her, he reasoned, that’s why it yearned for her so much.

When he let go, she felt shaky. Her pupils inspected his face, but she let go rather easily. Her parted mouth was screaming for him, but he couldn’t drag the affair any longer, so he let her go. His hands fell on his sides in fists and he turned around, with a willpower only years under his father’s stern stare could accomplish.

He felt the man’s hand on his back, cold and somehow soothing against the burning skin of his shoulders. Like a kid, he let his father’s presence reassure him, he’d be fine. Even if it meant another night tossing and turning thinking of her, and now the very real prospect of her skin against his and her lips on his, her legs around his waist…

“Let’s get you home, kid”.

He definitely had to get home.

[brights-place]

Clay x sassy fem! Reader Nsfw and sfw headcannons?

When I say sassy I mean she’s bold, straight forward, annoyed easily and other stuff. She’s strong headed and doesn’t take no for a answer type of sassy, and maybe bratty during sex too👀…

Clay with an sassy S/O

Pairings: Clay X Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Smut and NSFW content MDNI! A/N: These are for those freaky people and clay simps I'm talking about me aswell yall... I love clay so much AHEM! Anyways I'm not gonna be on tumblr for alot cause yk Im prepping for some stuff for the next couple of weeks!

SFW

- You being sassy is so entertaining for him

- You being straight forward and bland makes him snicker especially when Viva tries to do something dumb with the two of you when hanging out You'd be most of the time voice of reason and clay also being an voice of reason for an slight amount before giving in so you are one who has to take control

- Loves how you can be bratty and rude towards people but can melt in his hands easily if he praises you for the smallest things

- When you get annoyed he soothes you easily by placing an hand on your arm or shoulder

- You two would be an power duo for work situations and just for your personal life - he tangles your and his hair and tail together as he tries to hold you back from going to insult or punch someone cause they talked smack about Clay and Viva (I headcannon they have tails, claws, fangs and paws cause its so cute)

- He loves when seeing you stand up for other trolls when needed and was so determined to make all putt putt trolls safe!

-he pretends that he hates when you act out and get pissed but secretly he loves when you're a brat and enjoys the sight

- He loves how bold and straight forward yet sassy you are but you are so different in bed (NEHEHHEHEHEHE *gremlin noises*)

NSFW

- OHOHOHOHO I'M SO EXCITED FOR THIS

- He could be rough some days and soft on others it depends how you act but since your sassy and bratty he snickers. - When he was trying to work once you kept touching him groaning and whining about wanting him - When he said no to not letting in cause he was busy with work you literally left for an moment before appearing under his desk smirking up at him

- Clay wouldn’t admit it but when your bratty he enjoys it so much cause he can make you submit to him later on after he fucks the brains out of you

- When your being bratty and whine he likes to put you in your place

- biting hard and leaving hickeys as he grips onto your waist and thighs a bunch of times, whispering praises and degrading words against your ear

- Loves how he makes you whine after you kept trying to fight back for dominance but failing and you end up hiccuping in pleasure

- Overstimulates you so much

- Teases you he would just slowly thrust in and out of you or tease the tip of your member as you beg for him for more and cling to him sobbing

- When you continue being sassy he enjoys it so much and likes to place you in different positions while tugging your hair back

- decided to Mirror fuck you to show how he makes you feel this good and that you should obey him more while your drooling and he leaves marks on your skin

- He loves having control when you are doing it so he likes stopping his movements on purpose just to hear you whine and beg for him to go back to railing you

- He can be very cold, teasing you just to rile you up to see if you don't follow the rules and try be more straight forward and bratty.

- Uses overstimulation as punishment will force orgasm after orgasm until you are crying, begging for him to stop obviously you still wanna continue it though.

- Loved how he made you switch up so fast from being an bratty sassy troll to an drooling submissive person with how easily he man handles you

- Amazing at aftercare and make sure you feel special

reblogs + comments are appreciated ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

©brights-place 2024 — do not repost on another platform, copy, translate or edit my works! if you fit my DNI list please don't interact!

[lxkeeeee]

FORBIDDEN TECHNIQUE

—husband! scaramouche x male kitsune husband! reader

synopsis: his husband may be one the powerful figure in the fatui—both of them are, but scaramouche knows what could make his husband weak in the knees.

genre: mildly spicy, implies they had sex at the end.

notes: Anyways, to my male readers I am sorry for forgetting to feed you so here>:D

⊰᯽⊱┈───── ✧ ─────┈⊰᯽⊱

Indigo colored eyes stared at the figure Infront of him, an amused look on Scaramouche's face as he watched his husband's furrowed eyebrows as the male was reviewing his papers.

Scaramouche has been watching him pace back and forth across their shared bedroom, the same paper on his hand while occasionally rambling to him about how ridiculous it is. The Balladeer assumed his husband made a mistake on his paperwork or the organization gave him another set of paperwork to review.

Indigo eyes kept staring at the fox like ears constantly twitching as the kitsune muttered curses to himself and to the gods which the puppet found amusing.

Despite the kitsune's stressed out look, Scaramouche can't helped but admire his husband's body—the black and red hakama he wore fit him so well, a katana sheathed safely into his waist, truly fit to be his warrior.

Scaramouche just looked at the other male with fondness in his indigo colored eyes while the other male is too busy stressing over his paperwork.

“Like take a look at this love, Signora wants me to approve 1 billion mora budget for her! Like what the fuck, this woman I swear to celestia.” [M/n] mutters angrily, his fox tail briefly appearing out of thin air before immediately disappearing.

“Also why did Childe spent so much during his stay in Liyue?” The kitsune mutters to himself.

Scaramouche can just softly chuckle in the comfort of their shared bed before playfully rolling his eyes.

“That's what you get for agreeing to be the temporary treasurer. You only have yourself to blame.” Scaramouche says, his voice teasing and playful. The kitsune male immediately whipped his head into his direction and small annoyed huff left his lips before pouting at his husband.

“Because I thought the budget requests were reasonable but no, like Dottore for example. Why the actual fuck this man needs 2 billion mora?” [M/n] asked with an annoyed tone and Scaramouche could only agree, “Reject that.”

“Already did.” [M/n] answers before walking to his bedroom desk and placed the papers on the table, putting his hands up in a surrender position, “I give up, cuddle me right now.” he says and immediately walking back to their shared bed and jumped into the other male's arms—which Scaramouche gladly opened for him, “As you wish my darling.” he teasingly say.

Warmth, despite his cold puppet body, his husband never fails to share his warmth with him. It always makes him want to melt in his embrace.

Scaramouche rolled over to make him lie on top of his husband, their hands on each other's waists.

Scaramouche watched his husband's furrowed eyebrows slowly became relaxed and the annoyed look on his face was replaced with a calm and gentle one.

Scaramouche swept the hair that fell Infront of his husband's face and he can see how [m/n] immediately relaxes underneath his touch. Scaramouche cupped the males cheeks, both of their eyes half lidded as their face inches apart.

“What's taking you so long?” [m/n] asked, a slight annoyed tone in his voice making Scaramouche looked at him with a smirk, “What's the rush my love? Too eager for me?”

“You're annoying and an idiot.” [M/n] softly whined making the dark violet haired male chuckle sinisterly as he showed his hand where a gold band is placed on his ring finger.

“But I'm your idiot forever.”

The kitsune just facepalmed with the hand where his wedding ring is also located, Scaramouche immediately grabbed that hand and placed a kissed on [m/n]'s ring while looking at the [h/c] male with a smirk while doing so.

[M/n] could looked at his husband with widened eyes as a blush immediately covered his cheeks and ears, Scaramouche is enjoying this, to see his husband so flabbergasted underneath his touch. He glided his thumb over [m/n]'s lower lip and pulling it down gently.

[M/n] could look at him with anticipation, his paperwork worries vanishing in the air like a mist, unaware of the erratic beating of his heart—but Scaramouche is aware, Scaramouche is aware how fast [m/n]'s heart is beating, after all he is laying on top of him, their chest pressed against each other.

Scaramouche smirked before leaning down and making their lips met.

Soft and gentle kisses at the start, pulling away for a brief moment to let [m/n] before Scaramouche is back again kissing his husband to his content, slipping his tongue into [M/n]'s soft and plump lips.

Lips desperate to catch up with one another, tongues dancing against one another like a tango. The kitsune male's hand immediately found its way into Scaramouche's hair, tugging it and making the other male grunt in between kisses.

Scaramouche softly pulls away to let the other male breathe, amusement on his face to watch him pant heavily with flushed cheeks. His indigo eyes landed into the fox like ears that stood tall in alert and a playful smirk comes into his unfairly attractive face.

[M/n] could watch with annoyance on how stupidly attractive Scaramouche is, especially with the smirk on his face. Like how dare he seduce him like that.

Scaramouche just chuckled at the small pout his husband was giving him, giving him a quick peck on the lips before immediately diving back into a heated make out session.

Wet noises of their kisses filled the room, grunts on moans could also be heard.

Scaramouche smirked in between the kiss as his long slender hands found its way at the back of the fox like ears of his husband's and immediate scratched them.

Scaramouche felt the other male freeze before he felt him shiver and a loud moan escaping the said male's lips, “Aa-ah not the ears, the-they're sensitive.” [M/n] stutters out, his blush became a deeper shade of red, making the cheeky balladeer give him a teasing smirk as he once again rubbed the oh so sensitive fox ears.

Making soft whimpers and moans leave the [h/c] male's lips and oh how Scaramouche love listening to that sound.

The Balladeer's lips found his husband's neck, giving small kisses and love bites while his hand worked magic on the kitsune's ears.

“Ah-ah it's too much~!” he whines and Scaramouche just chuckles as he pressed a finger over the other male's Adams apple, feeling it bobbed up and down.

“Relax my love, we're just getting started.”

Then moans and whines can be heard during the night and along with the sound of bed creaking.

⊰᯽⊱┈───── ✧ ─────┈⊰᯽⊱

a/n: this was inspired by the one ask in my inbox but it was for fem reader but I decided to use it for this scenario. I promise anon to include your req in the main story 🫰🫰🫰

[leonw4nter]

Give Me A Star In The Sky and Promise To Be By My Side

Knight!RE4R!Leon x Mermaid!F!Reader

fluff, medieval setting, no use of super flowery words, mentions of death/dying (once or thrice i think)

SUMMARY : Leon's a knight in shining armor but he begs to differ because he swears God sent him an angel with a voice that outshines all that comes along with an even shinier mermaid tail.

Fighting. Killing. Coming back alive when men you considered your brothers are dead. This is all something Leon is used to ever since the royal family has taken him in as their knight; no compensation, no amount of pay could ever repair the damage that fighting mutant horrors beyond human comprehension has done to him. He has lost it all– friends, family, and the will to live. He has considered ending this torment with a rope around his neck but he never could bring himself to do so; someone has to do the job because if he doesn’t, then who will? He takes a swig of the strongest whiskey he can get his bloodied hands on, hoping to drown his sorrows and dissolve the faint image of his comrade’s mangled body that lingered in his mind like a taunt that he will never rebuild his life again and one day, he too will die like this and there will be no loved one to grieve his death; no one to lay flowers on his grave, no grave to be paying respects to but as if there was ever anyone in his life to visit him in the first place. He did not think that he would be deserving of praise or recognition; no matter how many times he scrubs his hands clean, there would always be blood on them. He zones out, dead blue eyes focused on nothing in particular as the voices that taunt him grow louder and sound as if they’re doubling in number. The grip on his glass falters, fingers trembling as tears flood the waterline of his eyes. Forcing himself to get a grip, he refills the glass and takes another long swig as he lets the drink burn his throat.

God must certainly exist because it’s as if He saw Leon struggling to keep the voices at bay and decided to send down an angel to sing solely to overpower the demons with her powerful voice; Leon thinks that maybe God still has some compassion to spare for a rabid stray like him. Leon keeps his head down, trying to keep himself grounded as a euphonious voice begins to sway his soul and move him gently. He finally looks up and sees a singer on stage, clad in a beautiful red dress; the color red never fails to make Leon feel a twinge of betrayal and hurt but this red is a shade he will always associate with silencing the raging screams in his troubled mind.

The peace is interrupted when a group of drunken men stumble to the front of the stage, filthy hands reaching out to touch her legs. Her voice weakens and trembles slightly, eyes widened and darting to and fro from the audience and towards the men. Leon decides that this is enough and gets up from his seat, walking over to the front of the stage and grips the wrist of one man tightly but the man does not give up easily; punches thrown, glass shattered, and noses bloody, guests pour out of the club, leaving you and him alone. He tells you his name and you offer yours, both of you knowing full well this is not the last time you two will see each other again. With a small nod, he turns around and heads out the door to retire back to his quarters. Swiftly, you grab a cloak and run outside to follow him. He hasn’t wandered too far off from the club so manage to catch up to him, placing a hand on his back. As a small token of your thanks, you give him a mermaid scale. Drawing him a little nearer, you place the iridescent golden scale on the pocket of his gambeson and give it a safe little pat before pulling away.

“What was that for?” he asks, gaze falling to his pocket.

“It’s a thank-you from me. I feel the need to repay you for defending me so I decided to give you my scale.” you respond, a small smile on your lips.

“A fish scale?”

“Mermaid scale.”

“I’ve seen large, rare fish sold to merchants with scales like these but thank you, I guess. I just did what’s right.”

All the singer does is laugh and look up at him with sparkly eyes.

Leon tries not to hide the bewildered look in his face. Mermaids are not real, they’re simply manatees that explorers have misidentified but she seemed a little too kind and eager to express her thankfulness so he takes it, not saying another word. It wouldn’t hurt to keep around a rare fish’s scale so he decides against giving it back or throwing it away on his way to his quarters.

“I’ll see you around, Leon.” you respond before giving him a small bow and heading back in. He looks back at you once but you look back three times, incredibly grateful for such a man to have stepped in and done something about the harassment.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

Even after a few days of the charming singer giving him the scale, he still keeps it around and carries it with him everywhere. He doesn’t know why he does so but he just does, perhaps out of respect for the singer; maybe it’s in her culture to give a kind stranger something like that and he’s just respecting whatever customs she may have. Sometimes, he pulls the scale out and holds it up to the sun or whatever source of light there is to admire the scale. The scale is a lot thicker and bigger than the usual fish scale so he figures that it must have come from a bigger kind unknown to the region. He has also decided to frequent that club more, staying around not for alcohol alone but also the music; the club had two or three singers but out of all, he most preferred to hear you sing. You always looked radiant, making the room seem brighter than it is but whenever you spot him in the sea of spectators, he swears you seem to look a lot brighter. You two don’t talk, him being a man of few words and you being an introverted person but occasionally exchange glances that said enough. It is easy to admit that the man is attractive but she didn’t feel anything more than just the mere urge to offer the man some company and same goes with him yet there were times where he felt his heart thrum whenever he recalled the way the corners of your eyes wrinkled whenever you smiled, how your eyes squint first before a bright grin graces your red lips; the way your glossy hair would softly sway along to the song as if there were waves causing your hair to dance along to the melody. He found himself subconsciously looking around for any threat looming around to disrupt the peaceful atmosphere you have effortlessly created and to keep you safe, of course. He also began to cut back on the whiskey he always got, making sure he only limited himself to a number of glasses in order to stay sober so he could rush in and protect you fast if the situation arose.

This night, being in the club would stay in his imagination as he is sent to roam the forests for threats of those crazy cultists running around and planting parasite eggs around; news of livestock and villages from more rural portions of the kingdom reached the town, causing the king to raise alert levels within the kingdom’s line of defenses. The evening sky is dark, littered with shimmery dots of white and silver moonlight that beamed through tall and dark trees. The gale is cold, a refreshing contrast to the hot afternoon; the wind gently blows, as if caressing Leon’s body like he’s made of thin glass and gently ruffling his slightly unkempt blond hair. He’s not wearing his usual bulk of armor tonight, opting for white long sleeves and a black leather doublet over it; a belt to contain his sword and daggers hang on his waist, causing a faint clanking noise with each stride. Despite being tall and muscular, his footfalls were trained to be as light and noiseless as possible to keep him undetected when he was on duty. However, light footfalls are nothing when you fail to keep yourself guarded and fall prey to who you are supposed to be preying on. An assassin sneaks up from behind him and renders him immobile, a handkerchief damp with a sedative substance clamped over his mouth which causes him to lose his consciousness. The assassin holds his heavy body, pulling it to some place else to effectively keep him immobile. Blade belt removed, hands and ankles tied, a black cloth covering his eyes, the assassin lugs him to a cart used for the transport of the dead and takes on, disguising themselves as someone assigned to pick up bodies and send them to a burial ground in order to properly execute their mission.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

“Leon! Leon!,” Chris calls out. The man walks and looks around, his booming voice reverberating through the woods.

“Where in the hell is he,” he mumbles softly. Leon is someone who always knows the way and would always come back; he could be set to drift out at sea with a blindfold to his eyes and his arms constricted but he would always get back, no matter what.

“No sign of Leon anywhere,” Luis responds. Luis, one of the palace’s scholars, had been called over by Chris to ask him about Leon’s whereabouts. When Leon was not hanging around the barracks, he could be seen in Luis’ laboratory flipping through books or observing Luis’ notes.

“Ran off with a certain lady friend of his, perhaps?” he jokes, a failed attempt at making the situation lighter. Chris’ forehead creases with worry, fumbling around his pockets for a cigarette only to remember that he left it at his chambers. “So much for trying to quit.” he thinks to himself. They continue discussing where Leon could be, occasionally calling out his name every now and then, wading deeper into the forest. Suddenly, they hear a child’s helpless screaming. The screaming sounded a little more reverb, as if he was trapped somewhere.

“You hear that?” Luis asks, to which Chris nods.

“We’ll help you kid! Hold on!,” Luis exclaims as he and the other brunette set off to find the source of the noise.

“Help us! We’re in a well!” the kid exclaims. Luis raises an eyebrow at Chris; We? What did he mean by “we”? Could it be that Leon is with the kid too?

The pair rushes to the source of the sound, the child’s voice growing clearer and clearer with each speedy stride. Finally, a well comes into their view and they sprint towards the well. They peer down and see Leon, finally conscious but his head is tipped up for if not, he would sink below the water and drown. On his shoulder is the child, legs untied but hands bound together. His clothes are wet, cheeks deeply flushed from all the crying he’s done. The way they are positioned looks odd; the kid, despite being much much smaller than Leon, is standing with the water up until his ankles whilst Leon looks like he’s struggling to keep his head up and it occurs to them that he’s letting the kid stand on his shoulders to call out for help despite his weakened state.

“Don’t worry, we’ll get you chico!” Luis exclaims before scrambling off to find a rope, a vine– whatever they can use to get the kid and Leon out. Luckily, a portion of the rope was stuck on a stone that jutted out from the inside of the well and if Chris took a stick and brought a portion of the rope up, he could get them both out. Unfortunately, there wasn’t a stick sturdy enough to support the weight of a child but Luis piped up with an idea.

“Chico, can you jump for me?” Luis calls out. He smiles half-heartedly, trying to stir up some feelings of confidence in the kid.

“I’m going to need you to jump as high as you can and grab on to that stone,” he adds with a slender finger pointing to the stone that juts out.

“Think you can do that for me?”

The kid hesitates for a moment, looking down at Leon and back up. His bottom lip quivers and a look of fear flashes in his bright green eyes before shaking his head and breaking out into a new set of tears. A grunt could be heard coming from Leon, all his energy going into keeping his body up for the kid; he hasn’t even broken out of the ropes, more focused on getting the child out before himself.

Luis mutters something in Spanish and Chris considers shedding his armor to climb down and somehow try to get the kid and Leon himself, even if the odds are stacked up against everyone. Without warning, a yelp from the kid could be heard as he took a leap without warning, one tiny tied hand holding onto the rock.

“Help me!” the kid cried in a shaky voice and nasal tone. Chris bent down as deep as he could, his hand stretched and trying to get the kid’s wrist and lift him up.

“This might hurt a little but it’ll be fast, I promise!” he says before finally getting the kid’s wrist. Luis holds on to his waist to keep him from dipping into the well too much. With a few grunts, Chris finally manages to lift the kid out. Luis sheds his coats, wrapping it around the shivering kid as he tells the child to sit beside the well and try to stay warm. Leon, however, stays trapped and has gone beneath the water due to the downward thrust when the kid lept. The two men above the water consider shedding whatever clothing and dividing down, spotting a golden glow beneath the water. Golden? But the moon appears silver this evening; the faint light appears as if it’s beneath the waters. Interesting.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

She is backstage, gently patting powder into her face as she gets ready for tonight’s performance. She has her best pink dress on, silk embroidery casting a peachy sheen whenever golden candle-light struck the threads; long locks of her hair is kept away from her delicate face using starfish hair clips, strands defining the plumpness of cheeks the shade of tropical corals and framing her soft jaw. She spreads her lips into a wide smile, trying to get more of the product into her cheeks when she feels a sharp pain in the left side of her chest. She hastily returns the powder puff into the pot, a dainty hand flying to her chest and clutching it as she tries to catch her breath. The pain persists for a few more seconds until she realizes that someone may be in dire trouble. Hurriedly, she grabs her coat and runs out of the club. The ache in her chest could only mean one thing: a recipient of her scale needs her help right away, that recipient being Leon. Leon is the only person she’s ever offered her scale to, that tiny iridescent thing connecting the both of them in a way she didn’t quite expect. She has heard of what offering a scale could entail but she didn’t expect it to be like a map; she doesn’t know where he is but a connection to an item of hers just leads her there. She speeds through the thickness of the forest, legs pumping fast to get her to him as fast as possible. Not too long after, she spots a well and she feels the ache grow stronger. A hand flies up to unclasp her coat, hurriedly moving over to the clips in her hair to let it drop down to the floor. She spots two men and a child right by the well, the men shedding their shirts and vests. One of the men, the tanned and lean one between the pair, reaches out to her but she doesn’t pay them any mind. Stretching her arms in front of her and keeping them together, a shimmery flash of pink plunges into the well and hits the water with a loud splash. Immediately, her eyes adjust to the darkness and her legs shift into an opalescent gold tail. With a strong kick, she sets off to find Leon whose eyes are closed. She spots a muted gold glow in his chest pocket, her scale and sees his hands below his back. Hastily, she swims up to him and takes his arms; a broken piece of rope is attached to wrist and the same goes for his ankles. Wrapping her arms around his waist, she swims them both to the surface of the water but his eyes are still closed. Offering him some of her strength, she unwraps her arms from his wrist and places her tender hands on his face, she lets her lids drape over her eyes and brings her face near his. Tilting her head, her soft lips meet his lightly chapped ones; a surging tide of warmth and some miraculous strength courses through Leon’s formerly limp body, eyes slowly flying open only to be met by a blur of dark blue and a stinging sensation which causes him to shut them again. He could not see but he is certain that it’s her; an odd yet not uninvited swimming giddiness overrides his ability to reason logically and before he knows it, he finds himself pressing his lips back only for her to finally pull back and reach the surface of the well. Leon had always been the savior, the knight in the armor dirtied from war and he does not mind it– not at all but it is at that moment of nearly stepping into night’s Plutonian shore does he realize that maybe, just maybe, it doesn’t hurt to have someone save him for a change. As a man who has seen the face of war and smelt the stench of death, he has learned to raise strong walls to protect his heart from abandonment but through this moment, he comes to the realization that you’re slowly taking those walls apart but he doesn’t resent it– not one bit.

He wakes with a painful cough, sitting up and spitting out all the water from his lungs. With each jerk of his body, tears spring in his eyes from the sheer pressure he’s exerting just to get everything out. He feels a satiny touch fall on his back and he turns around; the singer from the club he frequents holds him in her lap and strokes his back from all those forceful coughing fits.

“You alright?” she asks in the most silvery voice he’s ever had the high grace of hearing.

“Yeah,” he responds with a hoarse voice. His throat feels weird and scratchy, a hand coming up to feel for his Adam's apple. He looks back at her and notices that they’re both drenched, her shimmery sleeveless dress clinging to her body and her long hair still dripping with water. His gaze falls on her cheekbones and drifts down to her arms and spots subtle opaline scales, similar to the ones on her legs. Her hands and feet look a lot more webbed, eyes appearing a little more bright than the average person’s.

“Thanks. For what you did. I mean it,” he softly says.

She smiles, still patting his back.

“It’s nothing. It’s sort of like me returning the favor for when you defended me back in the club.”

She coaxes him closer to her and he lets himself rest against her body, the weariness of the ordeal setting deep in his bones.

“How’d you find me?” he asks.

“The scale. My chest hurt while I was getting ready and I figured that you’d be in some form of trouble. I had this weird intuition on where you are and I ended up saving you.” she responds.

“Didn’t know you had a ladylove, sancho.” Luis chimes in, which causes the both of you to look avert each other’s gazes and attempt to conceal the deepening glow of pink in your cheeks. Chris finally finishes putting his garments back on, a smile on his lips. Urging Luis and the child up, they go to move somewhere else but not too distant from the both of you. Leon lifts his right hand up, gesturing it to you and shows you a gold radiance wrapped around his ring finger like a thread. You tilt your head, bringing his hand closer to you until you notice that the luminescent thread connects to your own ring finger, which also resembles thread.

“Am I going to be a mermaid too?” Leon speaks up.

“N-no… I don’t think so. This is my first time seeing something like this.” you quietly say. The threads disappear, fading into shimmery moonlight that lingered on you two for a swift moment.

“You’re a mermaid.” Leon mumbles faintly.

“Yeah, I am.” you say.

“That explains the voice.”

“And not the scale, which you thought belongs to some kind of rare fish?”

“You aren’t entirely fish but you’re quite the catch if I do say so myself.”

“Oh?”

You turn your head to a side not facing Leon, shutting your eyes and biting your lip in a moment of pure glee as waves of excitement crash over your body, a coral tint adding more color to your face.

“Let’s get back. It’s getting colder.” you finally say as you try to fight back a smile.

“Sounds like a plan.” he says as he flashes that swoon-worthy grin.

NOTE - THANK GOD I'M FINALLY DONE WITH EXAMS OH MY LORD. Fun fact: I started this fic when I was supposed to be studying for one of my tests and I finished this when I'm currently supposed to be practicing for a music class requirement :3 Making the fic look a lot more cuter took more time than I initially thought but I don't mind tbh. I'll be inactive from January 25 to 26th because I'll be on a day-long school trip. Hopefully I'm passing all my tests because I will be CREMATED if I don't. Also ordered my Leon photocards and they haven't arrived yet (baby come home) That's all and I'm really thankful that you've read my fics and enjoyed them :) I love you <///3

The animated pink divider and chain dividers are from @cafekitsune , the images are made by me (sourced from Pinterest).

[tojisprincesa]

I'm your angel

fyodor dostoevsky x fem reader

a/n : This is my first piece of writing containing smut, so please be nice! English is not my first language & I don't know how to properly format my writing on here either so I apologize in advance. I would GREATLY appreciate feedback! Thank you for reading my work and hope you enjoy it :)

word count : 2.1k

summary : The devil is real. And he's not a little red man with horns and a tail. He can be beautiful, because he's a fallen angel and he used to be god's favorite.

✧ warnings : MDNI 18+ NSFW sexual content, rough sex, choking, breeding kink, hickeys, manhandling, possible objectification, degradation, dacryphilia, name calling, overstimulation, multiple rounds, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, belly budge, stalking, yandere behavior, virginity loss, manipulation, possessiveness, obsession, sacrilegious, creampies, mention of sex in a church, slight dubcon, betrayal, multiple orgasms, dumbification,  aphrodisiac serum usage, non consensual recording, praise, hints of aftercare, reader referred to as a dog, reader is gifted but its not used in this piece, not proof read. please tell me if I missed anything. MDNI 18+ NSFW

Inspired by:  I'm Your Man by Mitski

On a midnight walk home, alone you enjoyed the breeze winter had bestowed upon Yokohama. The moon was full and shining down on you. It was so cold out you wouldn't be surprised if you woke up to snow. You had stayed at the agency quite late finishing up some paperwork. Dazai had been no help, again. You hated working on a case with him simply due to the fact you were always stuck with ALL the paperwork. This case had been a big one, thanks to the decay of angels.

You loved your job truly, helping people was your purpose in life. Your ability was called “ Angel Wings”. It was a rare and very powerful ability, you were able to use what was essentially dark magic. But what gave your power its name was your majestically, beautiful wings. They looked just like an angel’s pure white wings but as fate would have it yours were as dark as the midnight sky. 

You were the only one in history with this gift who had been born with black wings and the only one who had access to dark magic as well. The people of Yokohama had rumored it to be a bad omen.

Your parents had left you abandoned on the steps of a church. As a baby you were taken in and grew up in the monastery. At 10 years old you had discovered a file the sisters had on you, only to discover your parents had left a note on you as a baby stating only god could save your soul, they called you an abomination more so, a fallen angel. It was at that age you were determined to use your powers for good. 

You’d like to believe you left that life behind at 18. But only god knew it plagued your thoughts day & night. And on this fateful night that's exactly what you thought about on your journey home. You were so lost in thought you didn't notice the cold amethyst eyes that tracked your every move. 

✧

As you arrived home, all that your body wanted to do was rest. But you decided against that so you took a hot shower to relax your tense muscles. You deserved it after a long day at work. Unfortunately, it gave the devil watching you a perfect opportunity to set his trap. After your shower you decided to skip dinner due to your exhaustion and headed straight for bed. You had failed to notice the faint smell of  gas leaking from under your bed. That mistake would cost you your freedom, you had not only fallen in a deep slumber but in the jaws of his trap.

As you opened your eyes all you saw was the moonlight so scarce, you couldn't even make out the room’s layout. But you immediately recognized the ominous voice that spoke to you. Fyodor Dostoevsky. You and everyone in the agency had been warned of this man who was a demon, no more like the devil himself. Dazai had given a brief rundown of his encounters with such a foe, stating even he himself wasn't sure of his ultimate goal. He warned that no one could win against him nor his intelligence. He was always a step ahead. 

“Awake already? That gas should have knocked you out for a couple more hours..huh you're full of surprises angel” he spoke as he stepped into the light shining through the stained glass window. He looked like a god. 

“There’s no use yelling, it's just you & I in the middle of nowhere so don't get any ideas. I doubt even Dazai could find us here” 

It was as if he was reading your mind. You were left speechless whether it was out of fear or shock you weren't quite sure. But you couldn't let him know that. So you got straight to the point.

“What do you want from me?”

“It's quite simple really. I want your cooperation, your loyalty, and you.”

‘“ Me ?” 

“Yes. You, mой ангел”  [my angel]

He reached out to caress your cheek & your mind was racing. But the moment his ice cold fingers made contact with your warm rosy cheeks, it went blank. All you could focus on was Fyodor, his touch was all consuming. You found yourself leaning into him but the cushioned chair you were tied to did not allow much movement to your dismay. Your wings were aching due to the tight position you found yourself. 

His haunting eyes were staring right into your soul, you were convinced he could rid you of all the sins you've committed. You did not dare to look away. He then let out a chilling laughter while holding your chin. He said

“It's not like I am giving you an option dear. You will essentially be my dog. You will obey my every command and this will be the only warning I give you, do not test me. Your disobedience will not bring any harm to you, yourself but I cannot say the same for others at the agency. Nod, if you understand.``

You gave him a subtle nod. He had made it clear you had no choice but to obey him. An eerie smile stretched across his face, it sent chills down your spine. But the way he was speaking to you sent a pulsing heat to your core. It was embarrassing to have your mind and body reacting differently, to have them be at war.

Unbeknownst to you at the time, Fyodor had injected you with an aphrodisiac serum while you were passed out. He thought it would make you easier to manipulate. Not because he thought it would be difficult but because he had a strong desire to see you beg for him. The same way he had yearned for you all these months. Watching you from the shadows, studying you. You were the object of his desire. His obsession with you was sickening and unexplainable. He had to have you and now he does.You were his. He wouldn't. No. He couldn't hold back any longer. 

What shocked you like electricity running through your veins was Fyodor’s lips on yours. It was an intensely passionate kiss. You found yourself kissing him back instantly. The heat you felt between your legs had spread all over your body. His kiss had left like an ice cold sip of water in the blazing hot summer heat. You needed more to soothe this ache and he knew that. 

In an instant you were untied and swooped up being led towards a bed you hadn't even realized was there. As he set you down on the cool silky sheets he made his way down your body undressing you with kisses. You couldn't protest, not with this heat making you physically dizzy, you needed him and fast. It was at this moment you realize this must've been his doing but you didn't care, a part of you had wanted this. Deep down you wanted this handsome devil to have his way with you. You were his for the taking. 

 “Please” you moaned 

“ Please, what angel. Use your words” 

Fyodor was losing his mind at how simple this all was. You really were like a dog begging for its master.  

“ Please Fyodor.. I– I need you, inside me” You groaned frustrated with the heat building up and meeting its peak. 

“Such a greedy mutt I have” he whispered in your ear as he nipped it. The degradation heightened your arousal, he quickly undressed and pressed his body against yours while he sucked on your neck, marking you as his. Simultaneously, his fingers played with your clit and he applied pressure as he twisted and pulled on it. You moaned out in painful joy. 

“ More. I need more” you pleaded. He slapped your aching pussy, hard. 

“ Where are your manners stupid slut–” he felt what was like a heartbeat come from your cunt as he said that. 

“ Oh fuckk my angel is no saint, I will indulge you my dear” you felt tears escaping your eyes from how much you needed relief. Fyodor could tell from how wet you were alone. He was going to make sure only he could relieve this heat from you now and forever. He had done his research and found that you were a virgin. Not yet tainted, his angel had yet to fall from the favors of god.

He took his tip and rubbed it on your cunt giving you pleasure moaning out as he inserted himself fully. He did not give you time to adjust, not that you needed it despite it being your first time. Like a whore you screamed out in pleasurable pain. It was as if you were made for him, made to take him day and night. You were his to breed like a bitch in heat.

You looked between your legs to see the moonlight illuminating his pretty face perfectly. With the stained glass window behind him he might as well have been fucking you in a cathedral. He no longer looked like a god, he was your god, your savior. 

His touch was heavenly. His pace was relentless. In and out he went with harsh deep strokes he hit your weak spot every time. He left no part of you untouched. You felt like you were suffocating in pleasure. If sex was considered a sin out of wedlock, God could add it to your list of sinful deeds. You were born a sinner but you'll die a saint. You were sure Fyodor was god himself. Each touch he bestowed upon you, cleansed you. 

You whimpered as you got closer to finishing. He could tell by how your cunt squeezed  around him. 

“ My sweet angel, what would the detective agency say if they saw you now? Taking me so well, huh?” 

You couldn't help but squeeze him tighter and cry out to him. He leaned down and whispered 

“ Go ahead and say hello” as he gestured to his right. You had failed to notice a camera was recording you, capturing everything that was conspiring between the two of you.Your dignity was long gone at this point. You obey his command and let out a high pitched moan.

“ helloooo”

Fyodor groaned at the fact it wasn't even a command but you followed it nonetheless. Maybe training you wouldn't take long after all. 

“ Good girl, my good girl” 

He sped his pace up with harsher strokes while one hand  had went down to play with your clit and the other around your neck restricting your air flow. You rolled your eyes to the back of your head and your tongue was hanging out of your mouth. You were panting like a bitch. So he'd treat you like one. He let go of your throat only to grab you cheeks, squishing them together to spit in your mouth. This only brought the knot in your stomach closer to snapping. 

“ Please, Fyodor let me cum” you begged. And who was he to deny his pretty angel when she asked oh so nicely. 

“Look me in the eyes when you cum angel”

Looking at him and seeing his eyes full of lust and love. His devotion to you brought upon your unraveling. You moaned his name as you cummed causing him to reach his peak as well.

His cum had you filled up to the brim. You could feel it sloshing around inside you when he applied pressure on your stomach. He knew you weren't on any birth control but that didn't matter. He needed a successor anyways. He wanted to see you plump and round full of his seed. This was his way of permanently marking you from the inside out.

 So cock drunk you had lost count of the round you were on. You only realized a vast amount of time had passed due to the sun rising. The sheets were soaked from your juices mixed together. You had done unholy things. But you felt reborn as though you had been baptized in his cum. There wasn't a part of your body that wasn't covered in it by now.Your body had been pushed past your limits. Fyodor knew that and cleaned you up, he brought you water and ibuprofen. He caressed your hair holding you against his chest, laying down he praised you. 

“ You did well my angel” rewarding you with a kiss on top of your head. You smiled and succumbed to your exhausted state. 

You were now a fallen angel. And Fyodor was your god.

✧

After you had given Fyodor all the information he needed with no protest. He rewarded you, like a pup. You had betrayed the agency like a man. One day you'll meet your judgment by the hounds and whether that be heaven or hell you didn't care as long as you had Fyodor by your side. For if he should leave you, you should die. You deserve it don't you? It had sealed your fate. You were positive no one would ever love you like your god again.

✧ ALL WRITING BELONGS TO ME. PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORK. ✧

[calummss]

PREY | FLIP ZIMMERMAN

masterlist

summary: never trust a charming man. his charm might turn into your worst nightmare when the man seems too good to be true

pairing: fem! reader x flip zimmerman

words: 2.1k

a/n: this is the weirdest idea i’ve ever had, do not ask how i came up with it…i wrote this for english lit so if there a name or description to the my oc i changed to ‘y/n’ please ignore since i didnt proof read!!

TW! kidnapping, implied cannibalism

"I can hear you, sweetheart," taunting words fell between the rapid rustling and crunching of the autumn leaves, creaking branches, and the smell of wet weeds and newly bloomed wild flowers.

A thin layer of sweat covered the nape of your neck; your hairs stuck to the side of your face as you twisted and turned to see what direction was the way out of the forest maze—quickly and safely. Every second you pondered, you wasted time. Every wrong turn you took, you wasted energy. Every second, you were hopelessly running away from safety.

You felt a surge of adrenaline as the cold air bit into your lungs. You forced your legs to push harder off the muddy ground and slippery roots, anticipating the relief of finding someone who could help. A sudden ringing noise penetrated your ear; a waft of air shot past you. Your heart sank into what seemed like a bottomless pit in your stomach when you saw a shotgun shell embedded in tree bark. A meaningless piece of brass and plastic, the colour of gasoline fuel, but its shape solid; red like blood.

Your screaming burst through your lungs; it was the only weapon you had. Your breath was sharp and frantic, your eyes wide filled with tears. Fear washed over you as you thought of the possibility of your life being cut short just because you had trusted a man who turned out to be the kind of charming until he got what he needed.

"You broke my trust, Y/n." His voice sang through the thick air. "You know, my favourite game as a boy used to be hide-and-seek. Always played with my brother, friends, family,” A short but taunting silence made your heart race. "They always complained because I played unfairly and cheated," he said, to the sound of his gun clocking. "I disagree."

The soft ground blurred below you. You continued running for what seemed like longer than it should have, figuring it was because of the psychopath on your tail. The only things that could hinder you from survival were your physical limits and your doubt. But your exhaustion also came running after you, and your cramping legs gave in, falling into the pile of wet leaves. Your body shook as you pressed your back against the tree trunk, trying to regain some sort of power to keep on running, but it was no use.

His frame edged closer and closer, his black shoulder-length hair blowing in the low wind. His dark gaze fixed on you as his twisted smile sent shivers down your spine.

Your mind went frantic with the thought, ‘weak.’

He looked at you, jaw clenched, inches away from you. Nostrils picked up the scent of his cologne as your lips started to tremble, knowing you had failed to outrun him. What would he do now that you had tried to run away? You didn’t know.

"You look beautiful when you're scared," he crouches down, cocking his head. "But the fun is over now and I get really angry when people try to outsmart me. Will you try to outsmart me again?"

"Please!" Your voice cracks. "Please, you don’t have to do this!" You cry out, hot tears streaming down your cheeks.

"But I do," his voice now soft like it had been before he opened up the door to his cabin. "I have to do this."

Your crying intensified; your chest grew tight as bile rose in your throat. Blood pounded in your ears. Your hands shook. Your feet tingled. Your vision was disfigured, as if you were looking through a fish tank. There was nothing else you could do but give up. His strong arms scooped you off the ground and started carrying you away.

Your heart pounded even harder when you could see a street poking from behind the branches, realising you had given up before the finish line. Darkness was torn from your face, and a matrix of lights blinded you. Groaning, you shifted, attempting to jerk away from the brightness beyond your lids. Your hand hits your face, the drowsiness making you feel like a marionette. But even though your limbs feel heavy, like they had piled on imaginary weight, you tried to pull herself together. Pushing your torso off the ground, you noticed you were back in the living room you had been in moments before you took off running. Your eyes scanned for restraints—none.

But there he was. Tall, broad, muscular, wearing...black? A black blazer buttoned over something white, dark trousers, black shoes, all melting together into one until you blink a few times.

He must have noticed your surprise.

"Don’t worry," he took a swig of beer. "This manor is human proof. Both escaping," he huffed out, placing his hands on his thighs before talking towards the kitchen counter, "I mean like escape proof, soundproof, everything proof." He laughed.

"Why are you doing this?"

You spoke, your heart pounding and your voice cracking. "What the fuck is happening?"

He cackled, like he had one too many drinks, and laughed at a terribly awful joke. "Something very unfortunate for you."

"Let me go. Please. I swear I—I won’t tell anyone."

Silence.

“What happened, Flip?" Your gaze dropped to his frame, his chest rising and falling with each breath he took. His hands engulfed the beer bottle he held. "What did I do wrong?"

"You did nothing wrong, Y/n." Monotone. Dry.

"Then please tell me why you are doing this to me." You couldn’t stop your chin from trembling or your heart from wanting to explode out of your chest. "You treated me so well. We slept together. And now. What is this?"

Flip scrambled out of his seat.

Your eyes darted across the room—the drawing room at the cabin, nothing but miles of land and sheep. It stood close to the sea, just off the coast of the Atlantic Ocean, which at this time of year had the strongest and toughest currents.

Flip placed the beer on one of the coffee tables and braced his weight on the gold-encrusted sofa that stood perfectly opposite you.

"I mean don’t get me wrong, dear, the sex was incredible and probably some of the best I ever had but it was part of my scheme."

"What scheme? To lure me to the woods?” You wanted to shout, but every bit of effort you made to speak or move was tripled against the weight of you building fear.

"Look, it’s nothing personal, Y/n," he said, lifting the corner of his lips. "You took my bait and now it's on you. It’s not my fault when you’re so gullible when it comes to love. I mean seriously, falling in love within three dates?"

"Is Flip even your real name?"

"Yes. My full name is Philip Zummerman."

"You give your victims your government name?"

"Well, it’s not like any of them will ever tell the police," he chuckled, his white teeth shining between his black moustache and beard. "You asked me before why I am doing this. I have an answer to that but I don’t think you’ll enjoy it as much."

"What is the answer?"

"I am handsome, well proportioned and insanely wealthy. Those two components work rather marvellously together. I either charm my way out of any trouble or I’ll just pay off what I need to. Humans are leeches by nature, you know," he took another sip of his beer. "Humans crave luxuries and comfort, and what else?"

"I don’t know."

“Yes, you do. C’mon!" He slouched down with the biggest grin he had yet given.

“Ehm,” pause, “Money?"

“Ding Ding Ding…money. How much money do you think it will take to buy an ordinary man’s silence? Say less than a thousand dollars? Maybe even two if he’s desperate enough."

You had no idea how to behave. You felt like you were compelled to listen to him.

Flip stood back up again, beer in his hand, his back facing her as he paced around on the dark ebony floors, the squeaking penetrating your ears.

“And how much do you think you will need to persuade that same man, so dull and simple, to take a life?" His feet stopped moving.

A deafening silence.

What?

"Those dirty old men rummaging around the dirty cities of Colorado would do it for 5.000? Maybe 10. But in their eyes, you are worthless. Not worthy of anything except the price tag above your head that has compelled them to blindly follow any orders given to them. Just like dogs. I think there’s a psychology behind it but then again I am no psychologist,"

“What are you going to do with me?" You asked once more, collecting every ounce of calmness you had left, forcing yourself to make contact with him.

He sighed in response. Like he was... bored, annoyed, rushed? Perhaps all three?

"I’m going to kill and eat you."

His gaze went through you like a blast of ice, his sick smile making your stomach churn. Your muscles stiffened, paralyzed by fear. You could hear the slow, dragging beat of your heart. Fear became a tangible living force that crept over you like some hungry beast, immobilising you and your brain, holding you captive. Every muscle in your body screamed at you to try and escape again, but you remained frozen.

"What…" Bile started to rise again.

"I will kill you, and I will eat you." The clicking of his tongue enunciating his pointed finger on you. "A simple concept really."

Panic started to settle in again. Fear creeping from behind, the hair on the nape of your neck stood up.

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no." Nothing but high-pitched whimpers. Shallow breaths made it impossible to think clearly.

Your mind was scattered. How to escape? What had happened? Was your hand numb? Why did it feel like little pinpricks?

"This isn’t happening."

"It’s happening." His dark, monotone voice penetrated past your thoughts.

"It’s not happening. It’s not happening. This is all a bad dream."

You never had a heart attack but if someone had told you this is what it felt like, you wouldn’t doubt them. Your breathing was laboured, and your palms felt wet. You couldn’t think of anything but that your chest might get crushed any minute. "Oh, Lord," you started, "save me just this once."

You were trying to breathe, but you couldn’t. Someone was clutching your throat, stopping you from taking full breaths. But there was no one stopping you. Tears started trickling down your cheeks as panic crept over you again. This time, panic was unavoidable. It felt like forever. You sat there and panicked. He kept trying to say something, but nothing but mumbles made it past your ear. What he tried to tell you was inaudible.

‘Y/N!’

So suddenly his shouting erupted, bringing your mind back to reality as you stared blankly at him. You could feel a tear sitting at your lower lash line.

“There you are," Flip’s voice was half way between a whisper and a shout, deep and rumbling like the earthquake below you but still full of the danger you felt whenever you noticed his eyes on you. "Y/n."

“You’re a cannibal?" You choked back the fear and guilt you felt in your heart, speaking to yourself .

“Don’t insult your own intelligence," he tuts. "I do have a tendency to strongly dislike people who belittle themselves for the sole reason of incompetence or lack of confidence."

“And you just eat people?"

"I have refined tastes," he answers, his expression emotionless, but you could see the coiled tension in his body, the rage ready to spill forth. "You have complimented me on my cooking just earlier this evening. I remember the way your eyes fluttered, enjoying the thigh fillet. I would say your tastes are the same as mine. Why don’t we get you relaxed, dear? Hm? I have a room just for you and we’ll talk about this once you are back to normal."

"Normal. Normal."

You could feel his arms underneath you as he brought you to his chest. Feet dangling in the air as he made his way towards a wooden door that led down a spiral staircase, a red carpet greeting you as he walked past another long hallway until he came to a halt in front of the second-to-last door.

"You know, my dear, normally in these types of situations there would be some revulsion at the revelation that you’ve consumed a person. I see nothing of that in your demeanour. You don’t seem to care about the fact that others have suffered to land on my plate, yet you only seem to panic after you found out that you would meet their same fate... Tell me why? Do you think you are more important?"

[orphicrose]

The Co-Host (Alastor x FemReader) X

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Summary: You are Alastors Co host in life, perhaps more. But are separated by a sudden death. When you are finally reunited in the under world, it is up to Alastor to figure out why you don’t remember him.

Warnings ! ! Mentions of Death and Bl00D

W/C: 2.3K

Note : Thank you so so so much to everyone who has enjoyed this story. This is the last chapter to this book BUT I can make another book if anyone is interested. I really do appreciate the love this has gotten. As when it started I thought no one would open it and now i have so many readers.

@cannibalcoyote @kahlan170 @sugxryratz @multifandom-superlover @t0xic1vi @saccharine-nectarine

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Rage filled his body, replacing his lust. Surging through his veins like some sort of adrenaline booster. "Satan...."

A cane appeared in his fingertips, gripping to tight they turned white. Circulation scared to temper with the angered wendigo. Shadows tailed behind his hooves like an army of deviancy. Nothing more to lose but his second life, but that was meaningless anyway without y/n. His minions disperse from him like pathogens looking for a host, flying through the walls and dimly lit areas of hell, looking for their target. Satan. 

Alastor rampaged through hell, his demonic form replacing any evidence of someone who was a human once upon a time. Radio dials replacing his pupils, and black tar like legs emerging from his torso like something from the deep sea. Face like a crazed killer relapsing, reminding him of who he was supposed to be. Lilith hadn't given him this great power for no reason, and he was going to use it. 

On the other side of hell, Y/n lay battered on a warehouse floor. Abandoned by its former workers, bought by Satan to be turned into another means of business without a doubt. 

"There were no distractions" She spluttered on the floor, arms bringing her away from the dirt. "My numbers are up, I don't understand..."

"Not even your sins can be of deterrence to that fool." The man mumbled, trailing around her like a coyote. "I should of killed him when I had the opportunity"

Y/n sat still, doe eyes following his movements with any anticipation to flee for her life. "I never asked for any of this"

"No one asks for anything!" He bites back, stopping in his step to lean towards the cowering demon at his feet. "I gave you a job to do, and you failed. I gave you opportunities to be a great overlord, a wealthy power to be reckoned with. And what do you do with it?"

She remained quiet, face falling to avoid his gaze. 

"What do you do with it?" He repeats. Voice quieter, more sinister. "You don't even use it" The quiet whisper turns to a dark chuckle. Repeating the sentence over and over. "You don't even use it". He can't even comprehend how anyone wouldn't want the power, how anyone would fail to use it. 

"What could one want more than raw magic?"

"Normality" Y/n mumbled. Feeling the blood running from her heart to her fingers, a sensation she missed from her previous life. "What do you need a million souls for? " Her tone became accusing, bolder. Climbing to her feet and balancing her stance to oppose the large man in front of her. She couldn't lose more than her life in this moment, she thought. "There is a limit for power, even for a sin as important as you. So, why so many?"

He bared his teeth, psychotic grin turning upside down to a menacing frown. Words nor forming audible, except for the growl vibrating the glare from his fangs. 

"Why do you need the souls?" Her voice raised, coming closer. Too close. One move and he could bite her head from her shoulders like a rabid bear. 

"Power?"

"I must bring her back!" A vociferous outcry escaped him. A new level of hostility replacing his aura, a hand reaching out and grasping her neck. Restricting any air from escaping his prey. "They took her from me" Guttural sounds gave her goosebumps, watching the tormented memories in his eyes crying, driving him to the brink of insanity as the seconds passed. His anguish pouring out in a storm of shattered words and furious tears. 

Y/n clawed at the broken flesh of his fists in desperation, her fear doing the work for her as her body flailed about under his undeniable grasp. Air struggling to escape her muffled ranting for help. Her vision began to fade to the darkness of her eyelids, bloodshot at they roll away from the world. Her fighting against his merciless force taking her life from her. 

"You are replaceable, everyone is. That's what they told me. That's what they said when they took her" His fist grew tighter with ever slow word to fall from him. "They took her, so I'll take you"

Something flew through the air, something sharp. Hitting him in the hand, resulting in another nasty outburst of roars and splattered words from the sin. 

"So, this is why you are the Sin of wraith. Not very composed, I see. How fitting" Static rung in the air as y/n took in as much oxygen the world around her could offer. Clutching her throat in agony. 

The same static got louder and louder from the life outside the building, till it stopped abruptly. The sense of inevitable danger weighed on satans shoulders, looking around in a panicked state for the source. 

"A lot more paranoid than I suspected.." A hand landed on his shoulder, and sunk its claws into him. The large figure swung round, landing an elbow in Alastor's face. Stunning him. 

Satan took a long second to compose himself of the almighty being in front of him, almost too big for the large ceilings. "Impressive" he put a hand over his shoulder, a flicker of light hitting him before the wound was swiftly removed. "But not that impressive".

The sin tripled in size in just a minute. Legs stretching out, and new ones forming from his torso. Face warping into another species, one that Alastor feared the most. A hellhound, Hades himself would be scared. The absence of skin, replaced by hard bone, gave Alastor a feeling of doubt. Yet, his will to win never making a mark on the sinister grin sprawled across his jaw.  

Strong brick and infrastructure of the warehouse began to crumble. Falling around y/n like heavy snow. She had little time to comprehend what was happening as she was pulled out from underneath a falling brick. She sat, confused, on a patch of grass on the outskirts of a forest. A familiar shadow floating next to her on the floor, giving her a sad smile. Gesturing for her to remain in her place, before flying back to his owner. 

Green and Purple hues floated atop the skyline, rocks flying for miles around her as the two beasts began their decent on one another. Primal echoes of their agony sent a wave of anxiety into confused citizens. Scared to see what the commotion was about. A symphony of raw power emitting from the two, clashing and crumbling buildings around their feet. 

Y/n swallowed her fear, and struggled to her feet. It was true, she had power unlike any other overlord. Gifted to her from a sin himself, maybe she wasn't the most powerful being in the universe. But anything could help Alastor win this battle. She took a deep breath, and let it out. Letting her form sink into the ground with a purple mist following her to her destination. Materializing a few meters away from no-mans-land.

Alastor nor Satan took any interest in her presence. Till the ground shook under their feet, and Violet radiance blinded them. Almost like a storm was brewing from the core of the Earth. Years of pent up aggression and frustration came out in a loud bellow, her form warping into what could only be described as a Phoenix. Her large, dragon like body emerged from the human flesh on her back, ripping and burning it to ashes. Fur mixed with dark scales on her winged being, reminding everyone she was still a being from hell. A large beak let out a god awful screech, gaining the attention from everyone in the pentagram, and deafening those too close. Her feathers Ebony and Royal purple, resembling flames the colour of a dawning sky. Ash settled at the talons that broke the concrete below her weight, ash from her former body. 

Everything froze, to admire the beautiful beast in their presence. Mistaken for a corrupt god. Satan would have been proud, if the circumstances were different. He fell backwards a few inches, his form seemingly shrinking. Barely noticeable. 

"Y/n?" Alastor's figure remained the same, but the look in his eyes returned as he looked over to the large beast next to him. A mix of adoration and fear overcoming him. Y/n dared to move her gaze to him, then back to the offender. Remaining silent like a titan. 

Her stance shifted, a foot coming forward with great force in an instant. Letting out another unnerving scream. 

"What in my fathers name is going on here?"

Everyone looked over to y/n. Who did her best attempt at a shrug with her bird shoulders. Eyes widened as she, too, looked around for the source of the voice. The three of them turned to see a small man, hanging in the air with his large wings. Anger painted on his scowl, and arms crossed like a disappointed father. 

"Down!" He shouted, like they were animals, as he pointed towards the floor. The three of the beats shares a confused and almost embarrassed look, as they hesitantly retook their position as an average hell being. Shrinking simultaneously to their previous sizes. 

"Lucifer! How good to see you aga-"

The small man landed in front of Satan, taking no second to strike him across the face. "What do you think you are doing in pride? Destroying my buildings? Scaring my sinners?"

The large man looked down on him with a saddened look, holding the red mark on his face. "I had business to tend to"

Lucifer let out a frustrated laugh as he gestured to the damage around them. "Ya call this business?" He laughed again, stuttering, and holding his temple firmly "I don't even know what to say. Go home!" He flashed him with his horns for a brief second before letting himself calm down. "We will be discussing this later... But a few of your souls are going to be conviscated!"

Y/n stood awkwardly next to Al, holding an arm with the other. The king of hell turned to the two after Wraith had disappeared from his sight like a toddler with a tantrum. "And you two..." His arms crossed again, looking them up and down. Leaning uncomfortably close to them. "I expect more from overlords of my ring."

"I apologies... You're majesty" Y/n inched closer to Alastor for comfort, who remained silent. Staring at the short man in his gaze. 

The king shook his head, mumbling to himself. "This just won't do" 

"Do you mind... getting my soul back?" 

He returned her question with a very unimpressed stare.

"For Lucifers sake... Alastor!" Y/n's voice echoed through the house like a siren in the deer's ears. 

"Yes, Mon Cheri?" He appeared behind her in the kitchen, startling her. He spun and wacked him lightly in the chest in retaliation. "What's wrong?" "You ate the last of the snacks? I was saving them for our movie night" Y/n pouted, holding up an empty box of wafers. 

"I did no such thing. I don't even enjoy those bland creations" He pretended to take offence, holding his heart.

"Well, who else would have eaten them?"

He grinned wider, staring at her with little to no expression before grabbing her arm. "We are going to be late for our broadcast, dear. Lets solve this mystery later" He began to drag her behind him. 

"I think it's already solved" She mumbled, keeping up with his pace.

After the long journey they had suffered together, the two decided to bring a sense of normality to their life's. Staring a new Broadcasting service for all the rings of hell to enjoy. Y/n and co-host. Her name going from the overlord of souls, to the overlord of media. For now, at least. . They did broadcasts 6 days of the week, updating hell on gossip or general news. Even being introduced to sinners who listened to their broadcasts in life. Growing their names, all over again. 

If you want to know what happened to Satan, Lucifer had him put in mandatory therapy for his anger issues. And for his problems surrounding grieving. But y/n's soul was returned to her by the king himself. Well... not so much returned as it was re-located to lucifers possession. Giving a soul back is a lot harder than it sounds. But the point it, it is in a safer place. Satan's Business has been put on hold, for now. Losing over 70% of his workers to lucifer, due to mental instability. Maybe he will rise to power again one day, but at least y/n no longer has to worry about it. 

"Good morning you foul sinners, and today me, and my wonderful co-host Alastor, are bringing you todays news!" 

"Thank you Y/n! Yes, today is already a day not to forget. Turf wars making their way through the east side of the pentagram with someone known as Sir Pentious!" Alastor chuckled "He doesn't seem to be doing so well!" 

The two laughed together. The static from the radio emitting from the small device in a kitchen. Electronic fingers reach out to turn the dial, turning the volume up as the chatter continued. A large figure was perched, listening intently to the noise. A bored expression on his face. "you too, won't be doing so well soon" The boredom shifted to an amused grin. Baring his electronic teeth on his flat face. Static emitting from his body like a circuit.  Vox gave a knowing look towards his small radio. 

[delta-pavonis]

'allo! may i have a bit of Friend Like Me? ;)

Absolutely! I have posted some of this before, but once again Tumblr's search function is failing me and apparently I can't organize my own tags for shit so... This is Matthew + Hob used to be partners in crime (literally) and Hob may or may not have started the crew from Leverage. 😂

100% G-rated fluff over here.

Hob has to do this every few decades otherwise he would be up to his eyeballs in storage units. It isn't fun, but neither is having too many moving parts to keep track of and potentially getting caught by another asshat with a hard-on for immortality. 

What was that quote he had read? "No matter how subtle the wizard, a knife between the shoulder blades will seriously cramp his style." 

Not to mention the myriad other enemies he had accumulated via his network of grifters, hitters, and hackers. 

(What? The current state of technological advancements meant that Hob needed to get better at tracking and erasing his digital presence back in the late nineties. Was it his fault that while he was living in the States he had accidentally amassed a highly skilled group of "criminals" who were all connected to him like spokes to the hub on a carriage wheel? And that it turned out that they were, as a team, really great at liberating funds and removing items from billionaire idiots who didn't need a fraction of their accumulated wealth and power? That they did it so well that Hob had to fake his own death earlier than expected to get out from under a particularly angry arms dealer? Was that really all because of him?)

(Yes. Yes it was.)

Yeah, anyway, Hob didn't leave the house without at least one blade on his person anymore. 

This is why, when Hob is interrupted by a large black mass swerving into his storage unit through the crack in the door that should be far too small to admit such a creature, he pulls the nearest throwing knife (he was crouching, so he went for the one concealed in a sheath on the outside ankle of his black leather chelseas), clocks the intruder's movement in his peripheral vision, and wings it directly at them. It hits the wall with a satisfying kthud, which is promptly followed by a very avian squawking.

"FUCKING CAWCHRIST MY DUDE WAS THAT A KNIFE!?! WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS, THE IDES OF FUCKING MARCH?!"

That voice! Hob's head snaps up to see a sizable black bird falling in a tumble. It hits the concrete floor with a sound not unlike a briefcase hitting pavement from a story up (what? It is a very distinctive sound), leaving three large feathers tacked into the wall by the knife.

"Fuck me sideways that HURTS. Note to self, birds no likey losing butt feathers." The bird (A raven? Like this is the bloody Tower of London?) walks out from around a cardboard box with a bit of a waddle in its step, trying to look back at his tail while he moves. "I guess the Boss didn't tell you I was coming then?"

Hob sits back on his heels. That voice is still hauntingly familiar. But he would damned well remember meeting a talking bird. "Well, perhaps if you told me who your Boss is..."

The raven leaps a solid four feet into the air with a screech. He lands on top of a small writing desk, scrabbles against the smooth surface to balance himself, and then looks down at Hob with one glass-black eye. "I can't believe... no fucking way... Robbie? Is that you? Didn't you die in 2017?"

"Mattie?!" Hob's ass hits the cool floor as he is blown back by the revelation. "Didn't you die in 2020?"

Matthew Cable had been one of Hob's favorite grifters. Not because he was absolutely perfect at his job (oh no, Mattie had fucked up spectacularly more times then Hob’s blood pressure wants to recall), but because they had quickly become "let's get absolutely toasted and MST3K bad horror movies while we bitch about our love lives" buddies. Hob had missed Mattie immediately upon his own faked death and had mourned when he heard, through various channels he still kept an ear to, that Mattie had died in his sleep not too long ago.

"Yeah, but when I died I was given, like, a choice? Apparently the King of Dreams needed a new Raven and I decided to give it a go. Sounded much more interesting to work for him than actual death. There must be some mistake because I was sent here with a message for Hhh..." Mattie freezes.

"Dream sent you?" Hob tilts his head in interest. This was the Matthew he had often mentioned? A raven that carried his messages? Hob had been jealous over a bird?! (Oh Christ, how embarrassing.)

"Wait... what the fuck are you doing in Hob GaaaaAAHHHH!" Mattie the Raven starts hopping around frantically. "YOU ARE NOT JUST IN HOB GADLING'S STORAGE UNIT. YOU ARE HOB GADLING! FRIEND OF THE LORD MORPHEUS, KING OF DREAMS AND NIGHTMARES!"

Hob can't help his laughter. "Oh, he told you I was his friend, did he?" That Dream had called him friend to someone else shouldn't feel as good as it did. Hob tamps that useless bit of emotion down hard. (No good can come of that, better to put it away.) "Only took him six centuries to get there, stubborn wanker that he is." He fails to keep the fondness from his voice. 

"Christ you have no idea how much of a wanker sometimes..." Mattie shuffles his feathers. "Look, I gotta know the story here, man. How did you meet the King of Dreams?"

Hob stands, brushing off his jeans. "That... is a rather long story." He considers for a minute, barely that, rubbing at the back of his neck, before coming to a decision. "Look, it isn't like I get my close friends back from the dead every day... how about we head back to my flat, pull up something ridiculous like Slenderman, and I will fill you in on my story? Like old times?"

Mattie flaps over and lands on Hob's shoulder. "Hells to the yes. Especially if we can find out if ravens respond to THC. Shit, you ever get more of that Amnesia shit the team picked up in Amsterdam during that art heist job?"

Hob's belly laugh echoes in the small room. "I think I still have some squirreled away from my last trip to the continent." 

He locks the storage unit behind them. All the spring cleaning can happen another day. 

___________________________________

They did not, upon making it back to Hob’s flat above The New Inn, actually end up watching their intended horror movie. Instead, as they were flipping through options, they stumbled upon the live-action remake of Aladdin and Mattie had been so damned adamant that he wanted to see it while high that Hob had allowed the deviation from their established pattern. 

“That bird is a fucking useless sidekick. I will show you how to do it!” Matthew stands, wobbles, and falls off where he had been balanced on the arm of Hob’s couch.

Hob cackles, slouching back into the cushions. “Well, that’s your answer to the question about birds and THC, innit?” 

Matthew flapped his way up onto the space next to Hob. “Hey, I am still getting used to this stupid body without any fucking thumbs.” 

“Fair enough.” He shrugs, sinking even further back and letting the movie drift into the background, a gentle blanket of familiar songs. “So I can feel you trying to not ask questions. Ask away, Mattie. I owe you that much, at least.”

“Fucking right you do, faking your death like that caw.” The raven shakes his head. “Where even to start… Oh! I got it! When and how did you meet the King of Dreams and Nightmares? That must have been a trip and a half.”

The memory makes Hob even warmer and he feels himself grinning as he looks at the ceiling. “I was drinking with my pals at a tavern, the White Horse, in the year of our lord thirteen hundred and eighty nine…”

“Wait. The fuck? You are…” Mattie clearly stops to count for a blink, “almost seven hundred years old?”

“That I am, now let me finish… I rather loudly proclaimed that I had decided not to die. Just wasn’t going to fucking do it. And that was when he approached the table,” Hob closes his eyes, the swooping feeling of seeing Dream for the first time still razor sharp in his memory. Should he tell Mattie? Well, he had never been dishonest with the man before, no reason to start now. So Hob let all his emotional walls down. “And I swear to God, Mattie, it was like seeing a meteor shower for the first time. It was like discovering a second moon. I was absolutely dumbstruck by the beauty of this cocky young Lordling, all standing before me like he owned half the country. Looked it too, with that giant fucking ruby around his neck and his fine clothing.” Hob shakes his head, grin widening. “He offered me a deal. If I wanted unending life, then I could come back to that tavern on the same day at the same time one hundred years hence and tell him of my experiences of life so long-lasting. And here I am.” When Mattie doesn't immediately respond, Hob opens his eyes and turns his head. “What?”

The raven was studying him intently. When he spoke it was carefully metered and very much not in jest. “Robbie. I might be a bird now, but I would know that expression on your face anywhere. Do you… Are you…”

He didn’t need to put words to it, Hob knew exactly what his friend meant. He shrugged. “Aye, I probably am. But you have to understand, Mattie, he has been the only constant in my whole long life. Hundreds of relationships. Thousands of friendships. Centuries of life. And he was my only anchor.” Hob lets himself drift on that thought for a moment before coming back. “Did you know that I didn’t know his name until a few months ago when he showed up at the New Inn?”

“What?! What kind of asshole doesn’t give his – oh, wait, this is Dream I am talking about, isn’t it…”

Hob laughs. “You are very correct. Dream’s stubbornness is only surpassed by his beauty.”

“Wow. You’ve got it bad.”

“Most likely.” Hob inclines his head. “But I am happy with whatever type of relationship he is capable of with me."

The raven whistles. "Got it baaaad."

____________________________

And so it happens that Hob and Mattie are stonedly bickering over if Will Smith’s portrayal of the Genie was a good homage or a bad mockery (all while A Whole New World starts up in the background) when the King of Dreams and Nightmares steps out of nothingness and into Hob’s living room.

“Matthew! You were told to deliver a message, not spend an entire day-”

Hob cuts Dream off with an overdramatic, “OoooOOOOoooh, Mattie, you are in trooooouble.” Dream’s stern face snaps to Hob’s and he slaps a hand over his mouth while he giggles none-too-loudly, “OooooOOOh, now I am in trooooouble.”

That makes Mattie burst into giggles and let it be known that the giggle of a raven is not actually a pleasant sound to take in.

So it makes Hob laugh harder.

Then he sees Dream’s absolutely bewildered expression.

And that makes Hob laugh even harder.

Sobbing as he laughs, collapsed to the floor (having initially fallen clear off the couch in surprise at Dream’s entrance), clutching his belly, Hob can’t even bring himself to worry that Dream might actually be angry with him. Fuck, Hob just got Mattie back. This is fucking great.

Hob wipes at his face as his hysterics subside, trying to keep his voice steady as he addresses Dream from his place on the floor. “I’m sorry, m’love, I didn’t mean to patronize you, I just-” He cuts himself off when he sees, for the first time, a petal-pink blush color his Stranger’s cheeks.

“You called him your love!” Mattie cackles. Hob feels himself blush now, too. That was a slip. That shouldn’t have happened. (Ah, bollocks.) “You are so in for it now. The Boss hates pet names! Once I tried to call him Lord Mew-mew because he was acting like a wet fucking cat and-”

“Enough.” Dream waves his hand to his Raven and the bird is immediately silenced. “Matthew, leave us. I am not asking.”

“Aww, maannn.” Mattie shakes himself off and seems to become shockingly sober with just a ruffle of feathers. “Roger that, Boss. See you back at home.” Then he nods to Hob. “We should do this again sometime.” 

Before Hob can respond Mattie has taken wing and flown out a window that definitely was not open a moment ago. When he looks back up it is to have Dream’s hand in front of his face, gently offering to help him stand. Hob takes it, if only for the excuse to touch his Stranger’s skin for the first time. (His touch is cool, his fingers long and uncalloused, his skin smooth. Hob memorizes every sensation greedily.)

Dream seems to realize this once Hob is on his feet because the blush deepens slightly and he retracts his hand with a jerky motion. 

“I am sorry if I offended you, Dream.” Hob takes a step to the side and tries to catch his friend’s eye. Dream keeps purposefully looking away. “It is just a silly human endearment. I am rather high on some excellent weed and I didn’t mean-”

“Ah.” Dream interrupts and Hob’s jaw clicks shut. Dream is still not looking at him and so Hob can see the way the muscles in his jaw flex with tension. “Just a silly endearment. You did not mean it.” 

Something fiery swoops inside Hob. Dream has never acted like this. Never avoided Hob’s eyes. Never interrupted him. And all because Hob had accidentally called him love.

See, thing is, Hob does mean it. More than he has words for. But never did he think… Dream couldn’t possibly. Fuck. Hob is too high to think clearly about this.

Hob steps into Dream’s line of sight, forces the slightly taller anthropomorphic personification to meet his eyes. Why it comes out a whisper when Hob speaks he will never know. “Dream. Do you want me to mean it? Do you want me to call you,” he hesitates for a moment because this could ruin everything. (But look at him! Look at the hurt in his expression, the tension in his shoulders. He does not hide it well, now that Hob knows what to look for - thanks, Sophie.) “my love?”

It is answer enough to see Dream’s pupils dilate and his nostrils flare. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. 

He is shaking when he goes to take Dream’s hand, brings it up to press a kiss to those beautiful fingers. “If I am reading this wrong then please please let’s just chalk it up to the THC and pretend this never happened. But…” Hob takes the last step in and now they are almost chest-to-chest, “I thought you would have figured it out after 1689… you are my guiding star. It is you who I wait decades for. You who I hope to impress with my experiences. You who I have yearned to touch with every fiber of my being for literal centuries.” Dream is blinking wide eyes at him now, confusion and surprise and hope all written there. “And if your friendship is all I can have, then so be it. But, Dream. If I had three wishes I would spend them all just to be able to call you love.”

[curvykittyyssmutfics]

Jason momoa is dating his shy hairstylist! reader who really really wants but shy to ask him to eat her or fuck her up XD sorry

In the mood for somethin sweet

'Christ, his hair is a freakin jungle!' you think as as you stick the rat tail comb between your teeth and reach around ya man for the detangler. His eyes unknowingly watch you in the mirror, appreciating your curvaceous figure, but your too busy trying to unsnare his luscious blonde tipped locks. It's a real challenge to not huff out your irritation for him never brushing his damn hair. As his personal hairstylist you know it's factual information that if you don't do it then it doesn't get done.

Moving from behind Jason, you part his hair and start on the front. You're so concentrated on holding his hair from the root as you comb to avoid hurting him, you fail to take in his eyes raking over your juicy brown tits in his face. He licks his lips and continuously stares as you lean closer for better access.

You get a whiff of his cologne and its some effort from you to not nose his neck. Dammit, why does this fine ass man seduce you every appointment without even trying. How many times had you left the shop with an achy throb between your legs, just wishing he was going home with you instead.

Hell, it didn't make a damn lick of sense that guys still haven't fucked yet. This taking it slow nonsense was gonna be the death of you. But the way he petted your pussy always took you to another dimension, made you wonder what else he was good at. You've woken up from too many bomb ass wet dreams of what that mouth might do.

"Geez, Jase.. Why don't you just cut this all off. It's obvious you don't want it." Your irritation at his blatant disrespect for his hair comes out without your permission.

"Now why would I do that when it gives me excuse to come see you, sweetheart?" Jason responds with a hearty chuckle.

You feel absolutely pathetic that the nick name makes your tummy churn and heat bloom in your cheeks. Your so damn glad you can't blush. Your ok with your usual routine of avoiding eye contact during appointments but then rushing home to rub at your sticky little puss after he leaves.

"You can't possibly love coming in my shop every Friday evening, it's the weekend! Don't you have plans?" You ask, as you move on to comb and style the front of his hair.

"Yeah, I got something reeeal fun in mind for tonight actually." He licks his lips as he speaks, voice dangerously low while he continues to gaze at you through the mirror with piercing eyes.

Your mind races as you wonder what he could be about to get into. Maybe plans for a solo night? It's hard not to imagine him alone in bed, body glistening with sweat as he pumps at his fat dick desperately. Does he moan loud when he's all alone? You wonder if he likes to tease and edge himself.. Naw, you think, he seems like the type to go straight for that nut. Fuuuuuck you know he must cum buckets. The thought makes your thighs involuntarily squeeze together repeatedly hoping for some relief. You just KNEW he had a monster cock that could fuck you into oblivion. Your hands move in his hair instinctively, as you day dream about your sexy beefy ass client.

This doesn't go unnoticed by Jason. He watches you in the mirror as your chest rises and falls a bit faster, a light perspiration starting to cover you. You're nibbling your lip in a way that makes him wanna pounce on you, still rubbing those thick ass thighs together. He KNOWS the center of your lollipop is fuckin sweet.

"... Sweetheart?"

You only catch the end of his sentence thanks your nasty ass imagination. Fuck, your embarrassed. Never have you ever been so ready to get dicked down.

"Sorry, what was that?"

You still refuse to meet his eyes in the mirror as you move to finish styling the back of his hair. If you did peek, you would have immediately recognized his knowing smirk for what it was. He might as well have the power to read your mind.

"I said what are you doin after our appointment?" He repeats, hoping like a muthafucker that you'll be doing him.

"No plans, jus gonna go home and chill alone I guess."

"Why don't we grab somethin to eat? Fuckin starvin, princess." He suggests.

"Ok-kay, what're ya thinkin?"

You're a bit nervous. This was sudden. You've been out a few times in public together already AND it wasn't like the world didn't know you two were dating. But you guys had manage to stay in your own private little bubble and as introvert, it's been the best feeling in the world for you. Still, you crave any time you can spend with Jason, especially considering his hectic schedule for his upcoming movie.

"I'm thinkin somethin sweet... Maybe a little juicy? I don't usually do this but I'm tryna skip to dessert tonight." He says, smiling lewdly.

With your y/e/c eyes trained on his hair, focused intently on the small section you have left, you're missin all the cues. He thinks he might just have to lift up your snug little jean skirtand pin you down; start to eat so you finally understand he's tryin to feast on that pussy for dinner.

"From where? Oh! There's this cute little place, I think it's close by-"

"Woman.." He interrupts, and you recognize that commanding, dominant tone.

That's Daddy's Voice. You had hesitantly joked about it with the Jason the first time he unintentionally but successfully used it while he fingered you till you gushed on his sheets.

You fix your gaze to his, setting your hot pink comb down as you finally finish. You know what he wants to eat in an instant as he leers at you lewldly. As much as you want, no NEED this, you can't help but take a step back reflexively at his wolfish grin. Boy lookin at yo ass like he gone eat you alive!

Jason notices your retreat and in no way in fucking hell is he letting you get away that easy. He stands quickly, glancing at the mirror in appreciation, and runs his fingertips from the front back of his hair. He absolutely destroys your middle part, per usual, but somehow his sexy careless style looks far better than yours.

He then stalks your way and this time your steps backwards are intentional. Your horny ass boyfriend catches you easily though with firm hands on your waist as your back hits the wall. You look like a deer in headlights as he pulls you close, meshing your pelvis to his. His half hard chub feels thick as fuck against clothed mound, makes you close your eyes with quiet stuttering gasps of pleasure. Jason bends a bit to speak softly at you ear, watching you closely as to not miss one reaction from your shuddering body.

"You gone finally let Daddy taste his pussy or what?"

Your ears ring, his question on loop in your head. His thrusts increase in pressure but he keeps his snail like pace. The slow drag of his hips muddy your mind and you find it hard to focus on an answer.

Jason's okay with that though. He'll let your body speak for itself then. Kneeling in front of you, his large warm hands caress your denim covered ass, your soft warm thighs, and smooth cocoa brown legs. Reluctantly breaking eye contact, he silently taps on your furry black platform Ugg slippers and you lift each foot so he can remove them. You watch intently, as Jason lifts your left leg at the ankle and lays a soft kiss right below your gold dangling ankle bracelet.

"Pretty." He comments on your toes painted blood red nail and a matching 14K gold toe ring.

You wanna say 'thank you' but his lips continuing upwards, after he puts your leg up on his shoulder, render you speecheless besides your quiet moans. He leaves a molten hot trail that spreads warmth through your body and has you bucking your hips impulsively.

"Don't worry. Daddy's gonna give you what you want sweetheart, what I NEED. Cant wait to taste this pretty little puss."

Jason glances up your body, looking briefly at the diamond necklace he gifted you resting on your heaving chocolate tits. He notes how pretty you are in your sky blue tube top, as he lifts your skirt up and pulls your black lacy little thong to the side. He can tell you want this but still sees that hint of shyness in your gorgeous eyes and he can't have that shit! Doesn't mind suckin it out of you through your pussy if he has to.

You get no warning as he attaches his lips to your clit, reapeatedly sucking forcefully on your sensitive little button. The feeling is so intense you wonder if he's trying to inhale your poor quivering pussy. Even when your head smacks against the wall, the thud booming, there's no repreive. You stare blankly, mouth open wide, emitting loud panting pleasured whines as you gasp for breath.

"Daaaddy, aaah aaah Daaaaaddy." You've never moaned his title during him pleasuring you before but it's like he pulls it out of you.

His rigid dick jerks every few seconds in his black jeans from the way you grip his freshly styled hair, pulling it while crying and dripping all over his mouth. He wants so badly to slide his cock into you, knows for a fact that his pussy would be hot, wet and welcoming to him. Is more than positive you'll be his good little princess and let him breed you to his hearts content.

His fingers trace your soaking wet opening before teasingly pushing the tip of his index finger in and out with leisure. It may not be his monster cock but his finger is fuckin thick and is just what you need. He's glad he's got the wall to help him hold you up because he's losing concentration as you flutter frantically around his digit, trying to suck him in further while he licks at the pink of you vehemently. He wants so bad to feel you clutching at his dick like this; It's maddeningly to Jason not being able to fuck into you and drain his balls into your little puss. He can't wait till get his chance to overstimulate you till you beg and plead for him to stop.

Jason's middle finger joining his index snaps your back in a mean ass arch as you wail and try to push him away by his forehead. But your strength is nothing compare to his. He leans into you, snatching both your wrists in one hand and holding them tight as the other continues it assault on your insides.

"Ohfuckohfuckohfuckoh fuckmeeeeee Daddyyyyy!!" Your screams bounce off the walls of your salon in echos and your more than glad you locked up and sent everyone home early for the night.

His leaky cock spasms in his snug black briefs, twitching to the same beat of your rapidly clenching pussy unbeknownst to either of you. He hopes to God he don't bust his nut in his pants right now.

"You knoooow what I want princess." Jason moans against your clit.

He serves you a harsh suck while moving his head back, pulling off your clit with a loud SMACK of his lips. Your eyes rolling back as you convulse and lustfully hump at his mouth. That tells him all he needs to know as he repeats the action again.. And again.. Again.. Then once more. He doesn't get to do it a 5th time as you unexpectedly start creaming against his now swollen lips.

"Daddydaddydaddydaddydaddy!!" You can't scrounge a single ounce of embarrassment at your desperate pleas for him.

His stare is penetrating as he continues to nurse on your contracting little puss. You shake and shiver, trying to yank your wrist from his grasp with no luck. Your body twists and turns while Jason holds you between the wall and himself easily. With creased brows and your cute button nose scrunched, you squirt and spray in little gushes. Fuuuuck just what he expected from his perfect girl. You cum loud, long and hard for him.

Only when Jason's beard drips of your essence onto your salon floor does he relase his grip and cease his mind blowing torture. His big dick tents his pants but he stays kneeled before you. A wet patch of precum on his pants is easily visible.

You're eyes meet his in an instant, entire body vibrating with euphoria from your orgasm, you know what you want next. So you tell him, licking your plump lined lips sensually.

"My turn, Daddy.."

[bimoonphases]

@wolfstarmicrofic March 27 – prompt 27: Expecto Patronum – word count 670

Expecto Patronum - The Patronus Charm is a powerful projection of hope and happiness that drives away Dementors

A part of Remus knew it had been a bad idea, but that part had been drowning for the past hours in the alcohol, the hate for all the Christmas decorations everywhere, the cold, the ache of the second full moon the wolf spent desperately howling for his friends, only to tear himself apart when they failed to show up.

So that part was pretty quiet when he stopped in front of the tombstone, shivering from the cold.

“Hey Lils. Hey Prongs,” he slurred, raising the half-empty bottle to his friends’ names. “Merry Christmas.”

He took a swig and swayed on his feet. The cold was getting worse, but he didn’t care. After all, he had lost everything he had ever cared for. Maybe he could just lie down by Lily and James and fall asleep there and never wake up. He started shivering, and a movement in the corner of his eye made him turn around.

“Fuck,” he groaned.

Not far from him, a hooded figure was hovering by a tombstone rapidly covering in frost. He should have thought about that, really. The Wizarding World was still in such turmoil it was only logical a place so important like Lily and James’s tomb in Godric’s Hollow would be guarded by one of the Dementors Azkaban could spare. Even their son, wherever he was, must have some around.

“They’re my friends,” Remus whispered, his teeth chattering.

The Dementor glided forward and Remus stumbled back as the cold seeped into his bones and distant voices exploded in his head.

“Remus… Something awful has happened…”

The bottle fell from his hand.

“It’s not possible… Sirius wouldn’t…”

“I guess he lived up to his family name after all. I’m sorry Remus, I should have seen it coming.”

He knocked his back into James and Lily’s tombstone. The Dementor crept closer.

“Pete knew he couldn’t beat Sirius in a duel, it doesn’t make sense he went after him!”

“Grief makes us all act in ways we wouldn’t normally, Remus.”

He fumbled in his pocket, searching for his wand.

“I know I’m not his godfather or anything, but can I at least see him? For his parents’ sake.”

“He’ll be safer with his blood family, believe me. Pick up the pieces, Remus. Learn how to move on.”

Remus brandished his wand. He knew the spell and he knew he had been able to cast a fully-fledged Patronus, who ironically was in the shape of a wolf. But all that had been before. His hand trembled.

“I don’t even know if I have anything left you can take,” he whispered.

The Dementor didn’t stop advancing. If Remus was being honest with himself, it didn’t make sense. Dementors were guards, they had no business attacking someone who wasn’t doing any harm, but maybe it didn’t matter. It wouldn’t be worse than what he had lived through in the last weeks. Maybe it would even be better.

But as the Dementor glided even closer, the wolf reared up his head somewhere inside him, survival instinct kicking in. Images flooded Remus’s mind, of the Forbidden Forest and his friends galloping by his side, of the same friends by his bed when he woke up in the Hospital Wing, of smiles, and laughter, and hand holding and warmth, so much warmth…

“EXPECTO PATRONUM!”

He braced himself against the tombstone while the silver form leaped out of his wand and chased the Dementor across the graveyard until it disappeared somewhere. Remus exhaled. Apparently, he wouldn’t die that day. He looked up to his Patronus as it padded back to him and froze.

“No…” he breathed. “Please, no…”

He had read about what shock and grief could do to the spell, but nothing in those books had mentioned cruelty.

“No…” he repeated, his eyes filling with tears.

He let himself slide to the ground, his back pressed against the cold marble of his best friends’ tombstone. In front of him, glittering with the silver light of the spell, Padfoot wagged his tail.

[cambion-companion]

Woven Fate part 1

Exploring the idea of the reader/Tav being sent by Raphael's daddy to spy and distract him from power grabbing INSTEAD of Haarlep. Throwing into the plot that the reader is still kidnapped by the Nautiloid and thus becomes a keystone in Raphael's crown heist.

I'm starting this off as a drabble, to set the scene and get a feel for the reception of such an idea before I fully commit.

I really want this to be a multiple part series, perhaps with a prologue of how the reader was sent by Mephistopheles to spy on Raphael instead of Haarlep (or whatever Haarlep's name was before HoH).

Raphael x reader (gn) | reader's race is up in the air, though probably from infernal persuasion, I like giving you guys the freedom to use your imagination as much as possible | rivals/enemies to assets with benefits

“’Go distract my son’ he said, ‘it’d be easy’, he said.”  You growled in frustration as, for the umpteenth time that week, you cleaned up after Mephistopheles’ infuriating son. “I can hardly report back to the old chap while elbow deep in his son’s shitter.”

You felt the familiar warping press of the planes flexing, signaling Raphael’s arrival back home.

You heaved a sigh. “Great.”

“What a lovely sound to return to.” Raphael greeted, strolling into the boudoir, not deigning to look at you. “Ready to return to my father with your tail between your legs?”

“For the thousandth time, no.” You sat at his ornate desk and propped your chin upon your hand. “Though I am putting my foot down.  Utilize the slaves you have to do your menial labor, I’m done.”

“You are one of my slaves, pet.” Raphael murmured, a hard edge to his voice.

“I serve your father, Raphael.  Or should I double check with him really quick?”

Raphael rounded on you, eyes burning.  You stood to meet his anger, your defiance flaring corporeal flames around your body.

“You serve me.”  Raphael said each word with dangerous emphasis.

“I’m going on strike.”  You seethed back.

He towered over you, your noses almost touching, the mutual enmity palpable in the hot air.

“You are yet protected by the archdevil, for now.” Raphael’s shoulders relaxed slightly as he regained composure. He didn’t step away. “That does not shield you from my wrath, little impling.”

That rankled. “What’re you going to do, fuck me sideways on the floor again?”

“Begone, nattering pest.” Raphael waved a hand in agitation and turned from you.

“I know about your plans for the crown, Raphael.”

That stopped him in his tracks.

You smiled slowly. “This is precisely the kind of thing that led to my being sent here.”

“Then it is evident you are failing at the job my father appointed you.”  Raphael tsked and began his daily ritual of setting in order his contracts.  The rustle of parchment mingling with the crackling fireplace as he feigned disinterest. “What do you plan on doing with this information?”

“I’m keeping it close to my chest, for now.”  You cooed, stepping near him and sliding your hand along his tense back. “Just wanted to let you know, master. I am a player not a pawn.”

Raphael caught your hand and held it tightly, squeezing until your fingers hurt.  “Naive creature. Then you are bound to lose.”

“Who said I’m playing against you?”

The question hung in the air.  Raphael breathed in slowly, deeply, his hand relaxing ever so slightly around yours. You slipped your fingers from his grip and kissed his cheek coyly. “Just a thought.”

Then you deftly made your way from his boudoir before you devised other ways to tempt the Fates.

You had indeed been dealt an interesting hand, and were determined to explore your options to determine which path would be most self- beneficial.

A plan that might have come to fruition had the Nautiloid not thrown a wrench in it. Traversing the vast barren fields of Avernus near the House of Hope, you saw the Mindflayer ship blast into being. Too close to where you were.  You felt the horrible ache of familiar helplessness as the monstrous ship bore down on you.

A flash of white, an excruciating pain, then all went dark.

[curioussesame]

Chilchuck whips Laios with his tail while having sex.

This is the only thought I will share with the chilaios world.

you inspired me to write something short, anon :)

Laios moaned like a whore whenever Chilchuck put it in. He had such a pretty voice when he was whimpering and grabbing at the sheets, instead of rambling off inane monster facts. (Though, Chilchuck was starting to find his voice pleasant to listen to even then, and he tried not to think about what that might mean.)

“Oh, Chil! Right there!” Laios yelped, arching his back into the half-foot’s thrusts. 

“Don’t tell me what to do, needy little whore,” Chilchuck said, giving the side of his ass a spank. Laios let out a startled, broken moan, and then buried his face in the pillows, trying to hide the way his ears tinged a bright crimson.

“Oh, you like it when I hit you, huh?” Chilchuck asked, his tail starting to sway back and forth with excitement and his thrusts getting a little sloppy. Laios whimpered, and though the answer was obvious, Chilchuck decided that wasn’t good enough.

“I said—” Chilchuck whipped his tail to the side, hitting Laios’s hip with a sudden thwack. “Does my stupid puppy like it when I hit him?”

“Yes!” Laios practically screamed, yelping again as the tail whipped to the other side, hitting him right where Chilchuck had first hit him with his hand. “Yes, sir! Hit me! Spank me!”

“God, you’re pathetic,” Chilchuck laughed cruelly, hitting him repeatedly as he slammed his hips against him, driving his cock into his prostate with each thrust. 

Laios howled like a dog, moaning and whining and starting to sob. His thighs trembled, and Chilchuck felt his hole clench around him as he came, spilling onto the sheets below them. Chilchuck felt high on the power, but he restrained himself, his tail swishing less violently so it didn’t hit Laios quite as hard now that he was whimpering his pathetic little cries of overstimulation.

“Fuck, you feel good,” Chilchuck praised him to hear those whimpers break in the back of Laios’s throat. “Gonna cum in you, puppy. You want that?”

“Please, sir.” Laios nodded weakly into the sheets, and Chilchuck was finished. He gripped Laios’s hips tight, grinding deeply into him as his cock throbbed and pumped his cum into Laios’s ass.

His tail swayed back and forth as he settled, no longer hitting Laios, but just brushing him with the long hairs at the furry tip. Laios still whimpered a little, the feeling no doubt ticklish on the sensitive spots where his skin was red and would probably bruise by morning.

Chilchuck gulped, slowly pulling out. He held Laios’s cheeks apart to watch his winking hole try and fail to keep the cum inside, and Laios writhed in his grasp. Chilchuck realized he was holding the sore spots, so he released him and pet soothingly over the skin instead, even giving the right side a little kiss.

“You were so good for me,” he said. “And of course my little whore likes being spanked. I should have known.”

“I… didn’t know either,” Laios admitted in a small, sheepish voice. Chilchuck looked up at him with one brow raised, and found Laios looking back over his arm, most of his face covered, save for one sleepy eye giving Chilchuck a fucked-out look.

“Not until it happened,” he clarified. “Then, ah. Well.”

“You were pretty obviously into it?” 

Laios nodded, whimpering adorably. Chilchuck grinned, giving one of the sore spots a little pinch just to tease him, and to hear more of those beautiful noises come from Laios’s mouth. 

He was thrilled to have a new way to get those sounds out of him, and he planned to use it liberally in the future.