#I just made myself sad thinking about that

[hazelfoureyes]

Alastor in Rut (one shot)

Rutting Alastor x Fem Rabbit Reader

Less than confident and lacking much in the way of assertiveness, you find hell to be scary. But, a very kind and helpful deer demon has a solution! Just in time, as an unexpected rut hits him and he feels the need to reel you in.

this is pure self indulgence. Shout out to @jazzmasternot , @lustylita , @sugoi-writes , and @minkdelovely for keeping me sane and horny (with art lol)

「Warnings/Promises: actual warning - mentions of accidental vehicular homicide and reader's death, Marathon Smut, p in v, finger almost in a?, anal is considered, knotting because fuck it, attempt at breeding, womb flooded, not dubcon but everyone in the hotel thinks it is, slightly repetitive fucking because he wont waste semen on other holes, Alastor would fuck anyone but you’re the most amusing, Alastor doesn’t think he’s the good guy which is honestly kinda cute, deadass talk about making you carry his fawns?? Why is it so hot?? Knock me up deer man bleat bleat bitch, implied previous relationship with a human man, plans to cuckold your ex, heat, blue fire isn’t hot, you’re tricked into a deal with Alastor, kinda size kink, demon Alastor, minor aftercare, a little sexual choking (as a treat)」

Hey--- we're all here for something. This is 10000 words, 5300 or so is smut. Smut starts at the bright green divider for you impatient and horny deeries.

MINORS YOU KNOW THE DRILL DNI

The line for reception was long, but that was to be expected. After the extermination ended early and Adam killed on television by a maid, the Hazbin Hotel had been busy. Or so you overheard others saying. You’d only been in hell a day, lucky enough to catch the advertisements and hear the gossip for the hotel soon after your descent.

You recognized the princess immediately, but not that tall man beside her. He wasn’t doing anything, just staring and smiling. Was he friendly? Were there friendly people in hell? Truly friendly. Not high school girl friendly. Or hungry witch friendly. He had witch vibes.

“Hiya welcome to the”, she took a deep breath in, “Hazbin Hotel! I am Charlie! This is Alastor! What did you do to bring you to hell? Gotta know so we can cater your redemption activities to your sins!”

She was staring at you so happily, pen over paper. Your eyes nervously shot to the man, who leaned down in response.

“I fell asleep driving and killed someone, and myself.”

Everything about Charlie was frozen still except the sudden glossiness forming over her eyes. “You… you… were you like, a thief or… did you…… push old ladies into traffic?”

You shook your head no.

“Gluttonous? She asked.

“No, I wasn’t a fan of overindulgence.”

“Prideful, then?” 

“Unfortunately… I don’t think too highly of myself. Living or dead.” Your hand came to your down turned rabbit ears, sad and limp. Even in death you weren’t the right kind of anything.

“Uhh,” Charlie clicked her pen furiously again and again, “Lustful?”

“Just the one partner. My highschool sweetheart.”

A sweat was forming on Charlie’s brow, “Sloth?”

“I did fall asleep behind the wheel… but it was from working 25 hours of overtime this week.”

Charlie put the pen down, “I don’t think you belong in hell. You made an accident. That’s not how sins should work…”

Your eyes bore holes into the desk, avoiding eye contact, “I don’t think heaven cares much about that.”

“Poor thing. Let’s circle back, Charlie.” Alastor’s large hand rested on your head, patting twice. 

She nodded, “Good call. I’ll just,” her tongue stuck out as she began to write, “make a new category just for you! Other.”

Yeah that made sense, you thought. That was fitting. This truly was hell. Finally you stood out, as the one who didn’t fit in. You supposed that’s what a wallflower deserved for murder. 

“Follow me little one.”  The tall Alastor instructed you as he snatched a key from the hook and walked past you.

Happily. Small tail uncontrollably swishing as you followed a foot behind him.

A hum of approval, Alastor noticing the distance you kept.

“You obey instructions well.”

You always did. “Thank you.” Tiny and soft, your response made his shadow shift and smile.

It wasn’t a compliment, but the fact you took it as one interested him. Subservient. 

Fun. 

“I take it that you really were a good girl in life, weren’t you?” He swiveled on his heels to face you, the sudden change causing your face to run into his lower chest.

A song of apologies fell from your mouth as you backed up, tripping over your own pathetic attempts at platitude and falling back onto your ass.

He was tall before but now he towered over your, hand outstretched to help you up. You offered a thank you before taking it.

Clawed fingers tightened around your palm. Not letting you pull away. “You’re new to hell, right?”

A glance around, no one else in the hallway, “Is it obvious?”

“Yes. But also, you mentioned work this week.”

A nod, “It’s been maybe a day.”

Delicious.

“Could I offer you some advice?” He leaned down, hand tightening further. Wide eyed and a little frightened with the change in atmosphere, you just nodded again. “It’s very dangerous out there for little prey animals like yourself.”

“Aren’t you also a prey animal?”

His hand uncurled.

A moment of tension, Alastor leaning down further.

A strange sound was coming from his microphone, the best approximation you had was a car radio going haywire skipping through the channels.

“Room 243!” His body popped up and he held the key out for you. The hallway lights seemed to be glowing brighter now.

You grabbed the key, “Thank you!”

Two fourty three was just past him. A small tremble kept you from getting the key in on your first and even second try. 

You didn’t even stop to turn on the light, just pushing the door closed behind you as soon as your body was through the threshold.

The relief barely left with a sigh when you heard it, “You know…”

Frozen, your eyes adjusted to the darkness enough to see the shining of his red and pink eyes in front of you.

“I’m somewhat of a deal maker. For a small price, I could help you. Perhaps, you’d like a change of appearance?” His voice seemed to be coming from the walls, above and beside you all at once.

Something lifted a floppy ear. But his eyes were too far from you for it to have been his own hands. A small scream as you smacked at the appendage.

“What do you say? I can use a little magic to make you happier with your new form.” A dark whisper into your right ear. 

Your hands flew to your head before you dropped to your knees to escape the hidden things touching you. 

“What do you want?” To your left now. “Let’s make a trade. A deal.” Above your head. 

His eyes were gone. Just darkness and a soft laugh echoing around you.

Your mind was reeling through possible answers, what did you want? At that moment? In general? 

An answer tumbled out, too quietly.

“Hmm?” His eyes reappeared closer to you and glowing a bloody red. “Speak up, my ears are quite a bit higher than your mouth.”

A second attempt, “Safety. I wanna be safe.” The laughter got louder, mocking you without words.

“A little tougher of an ask.” The sound of something slithering near your feet made you pull your knees tighter to your chest. “But! I’m here to please. In exchange for protection from the more nefarious of hell’s citizens I’ll need something worth my while.”

Of course, that is how deals work, right? A promise with compensation. 

“I don’t have any money, or possessions yet. Maybe I should try again later?” You were lost in the light of his stare and found the darkness deepening around him.

A considered hum, “Well, you’re already dead. You’ve no need for your soul. Damned as it is, give it to me instead. To keep safe. And I’ll always answer your calls for rescue when in harm's way.”

Why would…what use was a soul, you wondered. Was he right? But if he wanted it, surely it had value. You were too new to this world, scared to say yes and part with what little you had. 

At the risk of angering the demon in the darkness of your room, you whispered to yourself and hoped he would hear it, “I think I shouldn’t.”

Hissing in your ear, “Disappointing.”

The lights flickered on, an empty room. A bed. A nightstand. A closet. A bathroom. No tall smiling dealmaker.

A tremor stayed in your hands through the night. 

To your surprise, when you ran into Alastor the next day he was more than kind. He was eavesdropping when you asked Charlie if the hotel needed any staff. Not only did you want to be of use, you were hoping to earn some money. He quickly slid beside Charlie suggesting things you could do. 

Wow, you thought. He didn’t hold a grudge at all. Maybe he had been trying to help before? 

It took a few weeks, but you found a groove. You were a floater between the staff, helping Husk with the restocking of his bar, following behind Niffty with supplies her tiny arms couldn’t carry, and keeping notes for the activities Charlie held. It was vital for you to feel needed and everyone seemed happy to have you around. Hell wasn’t so bad.

“Dear,” Alastor found you holding a basket of towels in the hallway on a rather standard weekday, “I need an errand runner. Do you mind?”

You had been finding Alastor’s presence enjoyable, a little secret you held. He was always smiling, which made you smile in turn. And his manners, well, perfect. You couldn’t understand why such a sweet man was in hell, but then you considered you were also in hell. Mistakes happen, perhaps he was also damned by technicalities. 

Not that you would ask him, you barely spoke a word to the deer demon. Every time he was around you your throat would close up. Oftentimes you would pull your hands behind your back to shield the wiggle of your too-honest tail. 

When he would speak to you, you would get so focused on the sound of his voice and watching his mouth move you’d actually not hear a damn thing he said. You must have looked like an absolute airhead, always replying, “What?” every time he finished a statement. 

“Hellooo, anyone home in there?” He knocked gently on your skull. Ah, those big hands again. He watched the pink bloom across your cheeks, your hands coming to your ears to pull them down as your mind wandered off.  A snap of his fingers finally brought you back.

“Sorry, what?” Your eyes were bright as you finally made the journey all the way up to his face.

“Welcome back. I need some stuff picked up from a shop downtown. I can’t leave right now, mind hopping over for me?” The grin he offered you made you melt.

“Of course!” That damn tail shaking behind you, “What am I picking up?”

He waved his hand, “Not important, it’ll be all wrapped up and waiting.” The radio effect of his voice grew, “I’ll write down the address.”

Terrible handwriting. You could barely read it, but didn’t want to insult him so you just nodded as he followed you to the doors. Pausing, you realized it was your first time leaving the hotel alone. 

“What’s wrong? Not up to it?”

You shook your head, “No! I can do it. Thank you.”

A pounding in your chest made you question if you were actually dead. But despite your concerns, no one bothered you beyond some catcalling and intense glares. Staring at the paper, you struggled to decipher the address. Was that a 7 or a 1? A 4 or a 9…? You were in the general area, the street name lined up and the first couple numbers of the address too.

You brought the paper closer to your face, maybe if you really inspected it you could figure it out. 

A shriek, dropping the paper to felt a small goblin-like creature pushing at your knees. Another, then another, began to appear from the shadows of the street. Black and white little creatures pushing and pulling at your legs until you tumbled over.

“Help!” You thought it was a shout, but it came out as a soft spoken request, the tone itself adding a ‘please’ to the end. 

They weren’t hurting you, just knocking you over every time you tried to stand up like grade school bullies. You managed, the creatures relenting momentarily before a stockier one materialized. A step back, what did they want? Money? You pulled out your wallet and opened it but the large one smacked it to the ground. 

That quick heart skipped a beat when your back hit against something solid. As your head bent backwards, you could see those red and pink eyes looming over you. 

“Oh dear. Trouble already?” 

You could cry. You did cry, a little, at the sight of a familiar face. With a flourish of his hands, those previously unseen tendrils whipped from his back and flung the aimless attackers away. 

Rescue! You hugged his waist, a chorus of ‘thank yous’ and ‘Oh, Alastor!’ into his chest. 

“Now now, can’t even be a proper task rabbit. You really do need some safeguarding.” He peeled you off him, brushing his coat off. Your mind thought back to the offer. “And I don’t see my purchase… didn’t complete the task either?”

You shrunk, you’d entirely failed him. His smirk was one sided, eyes half lidded and expression dramatically disappointed. Alastor sighed and turned to walk away from you. You’d let him down. He’d been nothing but accommodating and gentle.

“I’m sorry! Alastor!” You grabbed his wrist, eyes shut so you didn’t see the green glow of arcane symbols floating up around him. “Can I please have that deal? Please. I’m sorry, you have my soul as payment.”

Painless, selling your soul. With a handshake, a little light show, and a whirling of magic, you had done it.

“Excellent choice!” Alastor patted your head, “I’ll come to your aid when you’re scared for your life! Aaaand in return, your soul is mine. Easy peasy, yes?”

Fine, not an issue in the slightest. “Do I need to do anything?”

“About what?” His eyes wandered to inspect his fingernails.

“My soul.”

A barking laugh, “No. You’re tied to me now, dear. As for my end, just call my name when you’re in danger and I’ll,” a flourish of his talons, “rescue you.” His smile strained as he peered down at your little face, “Why are you crying?”

“I’m so happy to have the help, thank you Alastor! You really are just, amazing. Your mother raised you right.” Your hands were holding your cheeks, grateful and feeling a little less alone.

The mention of his mother made his back straighten, a bloom in his chest he knew all too well to be pride. Finally, someone was vocalizing his better qualities. Well, other than Charlie. But impressing Charlie was like making a dog think you’d thrown a ball. Just a little quick whirl of your hands and a couple sweet words with a smile and she’d be all wagging tail as she ran to retrieve nothing. 

But he supposed you were very much like Charlie, easily tricked and distracted. Had you really not noticed those goons were his? Or that the address wasn’t real? Were you stupid or naive? His head fell to the side unnaturally as he watched you talk. He wasn’t listening, though. He took in your features, slight but average. His hand came out absentmindedly and felt at one of your long and limp ears. He didn’t see you blush or caught how you stiffened. 

Naive. Terribly naive.

Perfectly usable. 

He dropped your ear and turned to leave. “I won’t rescue you twice in one day. Best to follow me home if you value your life.”

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

You hadn’t told anyone about the deal, a secret for yourself to keep. Partly because you were embarrassed you needed the help, and partly because you had been warned extensively to not make a deal with the deer demon. Everyone had such a peculiar idea of Alastor, it seemed to you. Even after making a deal, he was still…Alastor. Always offering a joke, or playing something jaunty in the shared spaces. You could vent and whine and Alastor would hum as he read. Always offering a gentle pat to the head when you were sad or did something he liked. 

So when Alastor suddenly left the group in a sweat, hands shaking and body rocking slightly side to side, you were quick to follow behind him. He bumped off the walls a couple of times before making it to his room and falling forward past the threshold. 

You waited for the door to close before running down the hall and knocking. 

“Are you alright?” You pressed your cheek against the wood and listened for any reply. 

Alastor was still on the floor when you knocked, which worked out well. He leaned against the door, ears flat with his condition. He took a deep breath, voice dropping an octave and carrying easily to you, “Just— an out of season rut. Unexpected and unwelcome. Without any does nearby it’s quite odd.”

“Oh, are deer not like rabbits? Rabbit does are always in estrus! Mating actually triggers their ovulation. Neat, huh?” Silence, Alastor’s ears turned forward focusing on every other word.

Does, always, oestrus

Mating, triggers, ovulation 

“I had pet rabbits when I was little. Isn’t that funny though? That they’re also called does.” You worried he thought you were weirdly interested in rabbit sex. “We had them as pets. So….,” a silence you misinterpreted as awkward.

Alastor tapped a long claw on the door before dragging it down the wood. A line was etched behind, “Is that so?”

You knelt down to get comfortable, “How long will it last?”

“Ah, hard to say. I've only suffered through a few. Alone, perhaps a week.”

“That sounds terrible.”

“With an appropriate partner, a deer demon would rut for two days. One for mating with his doe, one for guarding his doe from rivals who could still interfere with conception.”

His doe. You both found your throat running dry at the words. 

You nodded, “Oh wow, I guess that’s why you always see bucks locked together in fights.”

“Precisely.”

“But...can sinners actually conceive?” You gulped, the idea was a little naughty to you. The entire conversation was actually making you uncomfortable. The kind of discomfort that made your breath pick up. The kind of discomfort that shifted to hunger with just a few words or a well placed look.

“No, but that doesn’t matter. Once fully in the hold of a rut or heat, demons aren’t motivated by logic.”

You nodded again, forgetting he couldn’t see you. “Oh okay…” the idea of Alastor rutting into his own hand desperate to fill a womb made your knees come together. “Must be hard for you. As an asexual.”

A hum, confusion breaking his creeping fog for a second, “A sexual what?”

“Nevermind.” You shook your head, shaking off the topic with the motion.

Alastor could smell your arousal wafting under the door. A feverish chill ran through him, drawing the fog back into the recesses of his mind.

“Well… I’ll let you rest. I know you can’t call me, so I’ll stop by to see if you need anything.”

His mouth opened to correct you— he could call you in a sense, and he didn’t need help as he had minions he could summon with a snap. 

“That sounds lovely, what a helpful thing you are.” The words came out strained, his jaw tensing. How much longer could he hold out? The thinnest lie held in place that he’d suffer alone through the week. Already compromised by his errant shadow, flat against the carpet beneath your thighs. 

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Within hours Alastor was lying on the floor with his limbs splayed out. The sweating was the worst, not the heat. He could feel ticklish drops dripping down his stomach. His hair was sticking to his face, adding to the mounting overstimulation. Wet, hot, clothes clinging to his body like a second skin. A clawed hand pulled off his bow tie. His fingers shook too much to handle the tiny buttons of his shirt so he gave up and ripped it open. 

It fell into a pile with the bow tie and soon his pants and socks joined. Sitting up on his elbows he looked down at his underwear, he wasn’t hard yet but he knew the smallest touch could trigger what could be days of painfully swollen erections.

He fell back to the floor with a huff, hands raking through his hair and gripping his ears a little rougher than he’d meant to. A gasp, red tipped talons feeling down his ears and slipping around his already growing antlers.

Alastor’s eyes rolled back, strong hands squeezing his prongs, tugging them forward as he imagined anyone riding him. Using his appendages as a handle while he bucked up into them. His hips were already moving, lower back rising off the carpet as he rolled his body up into the imaginary mate he despised his desperation for. His mind flicked through faces. Husk’s pained but satisfied expression, Vox’s tears as he whined, Carmilla’s lusty eyes paired with surrendered sighs. He lingered briefly on Angel’s smirk as his hands roamed down his chest and his thighs in tandem. 

But through the darkness of his imagination he saw two watery and timid orbs, tears welling as eyebrows rose in confusion. Pleasure making the features soften. Soft. Soft velvet ears he could tug on in turn, a little bushy tail he could grip. 

A doe. 

The only doe he knew of in the hotel. 

The radio on the writing desk flipped through channels, piecing together the sounds to form the words he was trying to forget, a magazine ransom note cut from sound bites.

....out the windows

 ....always and forever, 

....in yesterday. 

....rusty cage 

May you never....

Hating how I....

....pull the trigger

....say you love me?

....congratulations 

The relevant sounds spiked in volume, mocking him. 

He walked to the radio and hurled it across the room. Aggression. Already he was losing himself to hellish biology. 

A minor part of him didn’t want to use you. You always looked at him with such adoration, which he’d come to look forward to when others weren’t giving him adequate attention. You also seemed to genuinely see him as a friend, as much as he didn’t directly feed that idea.

But using people was how the world worked. Everyone was using someone. You had said how much you wanted to help… Alastor leaned on the desk with both hands and watched the sweat fall onto the wood and leather writing surface.

How was his body leaking from every pore but his mouth was so dry?

His shadow reached for the thrown radio, the light flickering on. That dark doppelgänger using a song to offer another piece of torment for him, ‘you ain't never caught a rabbit and you ain't no friend of mine.’

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

You had been speaking to Husk about what you could do to help prepare the bar for the weekend when a green light began to form around your neck. 

“Did you— Did you make a deal with him?!” Husk dropped the dish rag, hands shooting to your shoulders, “Hold on! I’ll— fucking hell. Fuck!”

“Wait what’s wro-,” you were standing inside an unfamiliar room, just at the door, before you could figure out why Husk was panicking. Looking up, you locked eyes with Alastor. The room was dark, curtains drawn shut and ceiling lights off. A slight glow from a roaring blue fire to your left. His eyes were those familiar glowing red orbs in the darkness of his large canopy bed. “Oh, Alastor.” You finally noticed the third light source. A neon green large linked chain was wrapped around his fist. Following the squared interlocking pieces down the length of the bed, across the carpet and up as you looked down to find it ending on you.

Your hands touched your neck, feeling the cold metal of your collar. 

Alastor took a deep breath in, a shaky exhale following.

Oh. You’d heard from Angel how his deal with his boss often materialized as a series of smoke rings linked and attached to him. 

Before you could question it any further you were sliding across the floor, hands and feet struggling to find purchase as he reeled you toward the bed. Alastor lifted you by the glowing chain around your neck, evidence of the deal you so easily accepted.

“Can a deer breed a rabbit?” He mused, breath ragged as he struggled to remain in control of his impulses, “Doubtful. But I’ll give it my sincerest efforts, regardless.”

“Alastor-! You don’t want to do this, it’s just your rut.” You pulled back, legs kicking and piling up the blankets. It was fruitless. 

He laughed, incorporeal radio studio audience joining along. You couldn’t stop from glancing at the straining fabric of his black boxers. Setting a small hand on his chest to better attempt to push away you gasped, “You’re burning up!” The fear of the moment left you entirely, replaced with deep concern. 

He gripped your wrist with his free hand, not letting go of the chain in his right, “The fever is unbearable. My mind is slipping away.”

“Is this normal?!” Your hands came to his cheeks, his forehead, his neck. You remembered how your grandmother always checked your temperature, and pressed your lips to his sweat slicked brow. “You poor thing…”

When you pulled back you were met with the bright and blown out pupils of Alastor’s gaze. He was staring at your mouth, the green of his magical connection to you reflecting off his glossy eyes.

“Poor me.” He’d been sitting with loosely crossed legs but got on his knees. His face rose until he was looking down at you, hand now holding your chin, “You promised to help me.”

Your eyes were looking everywhere but his face. 

His hand on you tightened, cheeks squished together as he pulled your head up, “Are you a liar?” Of course not. His hand made your head shake left to right.

The trembling of your hands was obvious to you both. A cruel laugh, “Do I scare you, little bunny rabbit?”

In life you weren’t popular. No one hated you, but, well, you never had much luck attracting the men all the women seemed to want. No one of power or consequence ever paid you any mind.

Alastor was scary. But were you scared? Someone strong wanted you. Someone people feared was saying you were good enough for them.

Tears welled in your eyes as you felt your tail wiggling side to side. Your body always betrayed you. Your own death had been the doing of your body’s inability to listen to you. 

He couldn’t see the tail but the way your face screwed up in shame tipped him off. Letting go of your face, super heated finger pads slipped down your back. He slotted your tail between two fingers. There was no reason for it to be such an intimate action, but your entire body trembled.

Another deep sigh from Alastor, closing his fingers around the base and pulling gently. A test. Your head dropped to hide your reaction.

“Ah ah, eyes on me.”

He hummed happily as you did as you were told.

But the moment was cut short, you jumping when a rough knock came to the door.

“Alastor!” Vaggie was turning the knob despite knowing it was locked, “Is she in there? Open the fucking door.” A kick, a threat, “Now.”

“I’ll need your answer.” He leaned back onto the pillows piled behind him. Making a point, he lifted your chain and dropped it. It dissolved into nothingness before it could hit the bed.

“I’m here!” You said barely loud enough to be heard through the wooden door. Your eyes were drawn to Alastor’s lap as he pushed down his underwear to free his deep red cock.

His hand tenderly touched his base, hissing with the contact.

“For fuck’s sake Alastor!” Vaggie yelled, “You have three seconds to open this fucking door before I rip it off the hinges.”

Alastor’s head fell back with a moan, stifled as he bit down on his lip. 

“One!”

As his fingers slid up his length and touched his leaking slit his entire body violently shook.

“Two!”

He opened his eyes just barely. You hadn’t noticed the antlers on his head were quite a few times larger than normal. 

“I’m okay!” You shouted, the loudest noise you’d made since your death, but not the loudest you’d make by the end of the day.

Silence.

Mumbling.

 Vaggie spoke up again, “Are you sure? Come out and talk to us first.”

His hand began stroking himself, precum spilling down. Something soft and fuzzy was settling over the front of your brain.

You scooted backwards off the bed, eyes staying on his lap. The light color of his inner thighs. The little bit of red and black tail you could see squished down under his ass.

“Hello!” You opened the door just enough to shove your head through. “Hi there gang.”

Husk’s arms were crossed and his foot tapping, “Are you really okay? No matter the deal he can’t fucking make you stay in there with him.”

While you weren’t sure that was actually true, it wasn’t an issue, “I wanna stay! He needs someone to watch his fever and-,”

A brief rush of cool air up your shirt before a hot mouth was pressing into the small of your back.

Vaggie’s eyes narrows, “and?”

“And! And. Yes.” Your eyes shut, “and take care of cleaning up after him.”

They shared a glance, “He can just make his little creatures do it.”

A surprisingly long tongue ran up your spine.

“Oh my god.”

“What?”

“Oh my god! No! I couldn’t let my friend,” you sucked your bottom lip in as his hands wrapped around your waist and undid the button of your pants, “rely on strangers.”

Husk sighed, “Alright, just… like, call us or something? If you need anything.”

You began to nod but the door was shut and locked by Alastor before you could reply.

₊✧˚﹕︶︶︶﹕૮₍ ⸝⸝´ ꒳ `⸝⸝ ₎ა﹕︶︶︶﹕ ˚✧₊

Your face hit the wall as you lost balance when he pulled down your pants and panties with one yank and buried his face into your crotch. His tongue licked at the wetness pooled at your entrance.

Any moans would probably still have been heard by the other two so you tried to keep quiet. Alastor didn’t seem to care though, growling into your skin.

The fever seemed it would spread skin to skin, but when he pulled away you found your body quickly cooling. Taking a moment to breath before turning back, you wondered if you’d made a great decision or a terrible one. When you turned, Alastor was settling back into his previous spot. “I could rip the rest off of you or you could undress yourself.” He wasn’t looking at you as he said it. You made quick work of removing your shirt and returning to the bed as you had before.

"Turn around."

You turned to face the door.

"On your hands and knees."

You paused briefly, but did so.

As you bent over, little tail high and trembling, Alastor’s clawed thumbs spread open your bottom lips. Perhaps it was embarrassment or just the nerves but you were twitching open and close.

You heard a low “Fuck” before the feeling of heat dripping onto you made you jerk forward. One of his hands came to your shoulder to hold you in place, the other kept your hole open as his seed continued to dribble down onto it.

He hadn’t been trying to cum, but his body was already responding to the opportunity before it; a breedable and submissive doe.  His cock trigger-happy at the sight of your pussy, inside pink and clenching.

A tiny yelp as he fell over you, joining you in an all fours position but larger body caging yours between his limbs. He laughed again when the back of your head hit him square in the chest. 

“You are uselessly small.” His body rumbled over you. “Clever girl to make a deal for protection.” 

A burning stiffness slid down your folds. You could feel from even how little contact he made he was too big. Was it a bad time to tell him you’d only had the one partner on earth? A rather boring but sufficient sex life. If Alastor was hoping for a sex kitten he’d be deeply disappointed in you.

He hummed imagining dropping his weight and feeling you fruitlessly squirm under him. 

“Mating triggers ovulation, I recall you said. I just need to fuck you into it, right sweetheart? Maybe if I do a good enough job,” his hands gripped the flesh of your ass, “your body will actually respond. Your belly will swell with the evidence of my virility.” Both hands slipped down your hips and came to nestle above your womb, tenderly caressing the protective layer of fat there, “could your little form handle it?” Little form? Not quite. But to him everyone was little. Claws leaving faint red marks as he dragged them up your ribs, around your sides and pressed your back down to get your chest into the bed and ass in the air.

A squeak, your legs flailing with what little motion they had as you turned your head, “Well that’s for actual rabbits not--.”

His hand came over your mouth, “Shhh, there's safety in the quiet. Don’t you know? We’re most vulnerable when we mate.” On the utterance of the word you’d been avoiding to even think about Alastor’s still hard cock squeezed its way into you. Your body was willing, but your pussy wasn’t ready to accommodate him. Not that your living partner had been small, but he wasn’t a seven foot tall rutting deer demon. And with height came a girth and length you’d not anticipated. You had seen it, yes, but that didn’t translate to much once Alastor was entering you.

His hips were snapping back as soon as he sank in. It frustrated him endlessly that he wasn’t trying to fuck you with such a lack of control. He couldn’t have been sure he’d have done it any differently had the circumstances been changed, but he liked to think he’d  retained some skills over the long years alone.

The way he whined made him sound like a weak man, which he was in that moment. You wanted to call out his name, do the things you were used to doing during sex, but his hand was still over your mouth.

As if he heard your thoughts, his fingers spread open over your lips. Pinky under your chin to keep his hold on you. 

“Alastor,” the tenor of your voice surprised you.

“Stick out your tongue.” He sounded far away, despite being right behind you. When you did as he instructed his hand shifted. Two long fingers went into your mouth and pressed down on your tongue. Immediately his fingers and your chin was dripping with drool. He whined again, louder, the noise growing into a growl as his speed began to pick up. 

You could feel the thin flesh at the bottom of your entrance stinging as it was failing to stretch enough for him. It would have bothered you more but the way his burningly hot cock's head was pressing into your cervix was making your eyes lose focus. 

Without ceremony, you felt a rush of heat deep in you. Your shins lifted from the bed as you squirmed, weak attempts to escape the deep press.

His hand left your mouth and you felt it working on the base of his cock that was not yet in you. He mumbled something, it sounded like an apology, before you felt him pop the rest of himself in. You choked on your scream, not knowing what he had put in you. 

It throbbed, new and stronger spurts of his seed felt against an indescribable place. 

A brave hand reached between your thighs and felt at the space between your bodies—- well, would have felt at that space. But there was none. You were flush against his lap. Your fingers slid down to feel taut balls pulled up into his body. 

He shivered as you traced between them, checking neither were …  inside you. 

“I should have warned you, but my ability to speak wasn’t—,” he waved his hand around, “available.” You tried to pull away but found you both were locked together. “A knot. Not an accurate representation of a deer… and technically useless.”

That word meant nothing to you. “Is it normal?”

His thumb pressed at the virgin tight ring of muscle just above your pussy, you instinctively jerked away but just made yourself gasp as that large knot in you threatened to further tear you if you kept it up. “I don’t normally do it so early in a mated rut.”

You surrendered, trying to relax your upper body into the bed. “How do we get it out?”

A mocking chuckle, “It’ll deflate, so to speak, in a couple minutes. It’s just keeping my little doe in place while I finish filling her up.” He patted your ass. 

It was mortifying to be suck in that position.

“Have you ever used this hole?” He rubbed some of your wetness up to your asshole. 

 Your tail lifted, “My boyfriend didn’t like anal.”

Alastor massaged around the puckered ring, “I didn’t ask if he used his.” Your head turned to look at him, shaking it ‘no’. You noticed his face looked less strained now, and that his finger didn’t feel like a fire was just under his skin. “Ah, well. I won’t need it today anyway.”

He didn’t see the bright blush that came over your face. He spoke so easily about the topic, a topic you’d never heard him speak on before. One you’d been told he had no interest in.

An error you made, assuming a lack of interest meant a lack of knowledge or experience. 

When he finally could pull himself out of you, you felt a rush of warmth down your inner thighs. Looking under you, past your chest and between your legs, you saw the thick white semen escaping from your stretched entrance. 

You’d never seen such an opaque release before. You wondered if it was a hint at his…potency. You wondered more what was happening in your body at that moment. 

“Will it come out on its own or do I need to clean it?” Finally sitting up, your fingers felt the mess still dripping out of you. 

Alastor leaned back onto his legs, ears turning in your direction as you asked, “Is this your first time? Your little boyfriend never finished in you?”

Crossing your arms, you turned to him, “Don’t be patronizing to him. And no, okay?”

He felt the heat rising from his gut again, cock twitching at every bit of the scene before him. Insolent body language, an attempt to scold him, and an admission. You watched him sit back up, a sudden reminder how much taller he was as darkened eyes looked down on you. The blue of the fire cast half of his face in shadows. “What’s this? My obedient doe wants to defend another man in my bed?” 

Your hands nervously came to the ends of your ears, “I didn’t mean it like that.” A finger twirled, telling you to turn around. You hesitated. Did he want you to leave? He didn’t want to look at you? You hadn’t—, “I’m sorry.” 

With a blink, his eyes were black.  His fingers longer as parts of him seems to stretch between the joints. He twirled them again as his smile grew wicked.

Desperate to show him you hadn’t wanted to upset him, that you wanted to stay, you turned around. The fear of not knowing what he would do next was sending waves of electricity to your lap. You realized you hadn’t touched yourself yet, not that this was the time to start. 

One by one, those freakishly long fingers curled around the small of your waist and lifted you off the bed. The tops of your feet were sliding across the dark maroon blankets beneath you both.

Your heart was pounding in your ears as he pulled you against him. He positioned you above his renewed erection, your legs opening a little in instinct. 

Grateful now to be turned around, you let your face run the full range of feelings as they washed over you. Fear, arousal, anticipation.

“What a wasteful man.” He brought you down with a painfully slow speed, head just now meeting your sticky wet hole. “He never flooded your soft cunt?” He pressed in a little easier this time, but as you sank to take him all in you felt a sting where you’d slightly torn earlier. “When he dies, I’ll be sure to find him.” Cruel. “And make him watch me breed you.” You clenched, yet another betrayal by your body. 

You were reduced to gasps as he stayed stock still and moved you on and off his cock. “Am I bigger than he is?” You could feel his breath against your back as you were lifted and brought back down again slowly. 

You nodded. A terrible liar, you didn’t even try to fib.

He stopped with his head barely in you.

A squirm.

“I’m sure I just didn’t hear you. Try again.”

“Yes.” You were full again as he got his answer. A creaking sound you didn’t recognize startled you.

“Do I fuck you better than him?”

Ah you understood. Your hands held at his fingers digging into your body. “Yes.” Another creaking sound as he quickened your rise and fall.

Alastor’s antlers were wide and multi-pronged as your affirmations jostled around behind his eyes. Your ‘yes’ somehow made you tighter, wetter, hotter around him. His hips started moving again to meet yours. Perhaps he his dick grown a little during his shift to a more demonic form, or maybe you enjoyed the line of questions. All he knew was you were squeezing him like your body didn’t want him to ever pull out again.

Blood dripped from his lips as he cut his own skin, through gritted teeth a final question, “Do you want my fawns?”

Your legs pressed together, you knew there was only one answer and yet you asked yourself. Did you want that? To carry his children? A moan cut through your thinking, “Yes!”

The fire roared, a response to his own reaction.

Alastor felt his mind slip under again, noticing the wild way his shadow was dancing around the walls before his senses all dulled except touch.

The bed drifted away from under his knees and the walls melted like spent candles. Just sounds echoing off space as your moans deepened. As if learning, you began to whisper ‘yes’ to yourself as you felt a building pressure in your stomach. 

Every thrust into you further separated your brain from your body. Your eyes lost focus as you watched the door bounce. No, wait, you were bouncing, right? Bouncing up and down the stiff rail of Alastor’s arousal. Your head fell forward, gasping as you felt him harden further while buried deep in you. He was going to cum again, you could feel it, you would feel it. The thought made your body shake as a pressure grew steadily in you. 

Not a new sensation, but a different one. 

“Louder,” another thinly veiled demand from Alastor that seemed to come from somewhere else entirely. Your eyes noticed a small light on the floor near the wall. A radio, buzzing with the same crackle as his voice.

“Yes,” you ground out, his hands were slippery with sweat as his nails dug in to ensure he didn’t lose his grip on you. “Yes, yes, yes.” He brought you down entirely and only let you off a little, an unspoken fear he would release too close to your entrance and he’d lose precious seed he needed your body to receive. “Yes! Alastor!” You weren’t sure who was talking now, as it surely couldn’t be you. You’d never —

“You’re better than him. You’re bigger and stronger and and he never —- he could never…”

He was suddenly regretting the position, unable to watch you fall apart as he so lovingly spread you open. 

With a shriek, your back crashed into his chest as Alastor fell backward into his pillows. He didn’t miss a beat. He continued fucking up into you but let one hand reach your clit. When you whined, he breathed into your hair, “I need you to orgasm.” Other hand pressing down on your womb, “Many cultures believed a woman couldn’t get pregnant without finding her release first. Surely it’ll take. Cum for me my doe.”

You shook your head, “Alastor that isn’t possible.” Not that you were arguing against the way his finger was rubbing up and down on your swollen clit, you just felt the need to remind him of the obvious. Your eyes wandered up and back to see the hauntingly wide antlers now. His transformed face barely visible in the shadows.

“I thought you were a good girl.” His mouth kissed at the base of your ears, hand over your womb pressing in and exaggerating the feeling of his cock bulging from under your skin. “Darling,” he groaned, “Are you ready for my knot?”

You moaned at the words. No, of course not. 

“Yes,” you got quiet, embarrassed again. Your hand snaked up and behind to hold his shoulder for stability. 

“Relax,” he hissed, feeling your body tensing in anticipation.

You tried your best, but between his strumming finger and the sting still at your entrance you struggled to let things go limp.

This time you felt it growing beneath you. Alastor was ready as well, pushing it in before it was swollen so large he’d have to force it or just suffer with it outside.

Lubricated with the multiple loads already fucked into and then out of you, the knot pushed past your entrance with ease. But then you felt it expanding in you. Eyes crossing as they rolled back with the foreign sensation. It didn’t hurt, but a little alarm was going off in the back of your brain. How could something natural feel so unnatural? And how—

Your body locked up, muscles from thighs to neck tight. Alastor’s finger hadn’t stopped, and as the second knotted release flooded you with his feverish need, as his knot trapped every drop and forced it up past your cervix you tripped into your first orgasm. Different from your own hand and toys, the build up hadn’t been a slow ratcheting climb. No, you were rolling through waves of nearly pained pleasure. The spasming forced your body to feel him even more, pulling him deeper, triggering another wave to crash into you.

Alastor wanted to praise you, a rush of hormones and ego expanding his chest but the sensations had him so overwhelmed he was manually breathing. His hand didn’t want to stop, because then the way your pussy was positively sucking him in would also end. But your little cries and moans got increasingly choked and strained.

The calm briefly offered by knotting a mate during his rut came to your rescue, Alastor dragging a still barely moving finger up your body and going slack into the pillows.

Deep breaths, both of you fighting to slow them down. Alastor was experiencing another moment of clarity, only slightly upset he had doled out so much tenderness.

But for you, there was no deep fog of a heat to numb the sensations and let the more bothersome bits of consciousness turn off. Your mind was just as clear as normal. A little lusty, but nowhere near Alastor’s altered state. As you laid against his chest, waiting for him to be able to pull out, you could feel the pains and aches setting in.

Alastor summoned a minion, food set down on his desk under a silver cloche. Your eyes caught the black and white creature before it was whisked away.

Sitting up, you flinched but fought against the pain, “Alastor. What was that?”

His hands pulled you back down by the shoulders, skin on skin, “My minion. One of many.” 

 Exhausted, you could only sigh, “So, the errand.”

His hands went up defensively, “Oh come now, did you really think I was the good guy?” You didn’t reply. The silence began to bother him. Odd, given he usually didn’t give a fuck.

But he’d asked a lot of you, and you agreed willingly. You did as you were told. A little twinge of concern he had actually upset you wiggled between his ribs.

His hands slipped down your waist and settled over your stomach, “…Are you hungry? If you stay like this, I can help you eat.” You took a deep breath in, but didn’t even move to look at him. He squirmed ever so slightly, “I can only assume you’re… quite sore. Perhaps a bath? But I can’t guarantee we’ll make it out much cleaner than we are now.” His smile was smaller, just lips; no teeth. As his antlers withdrew and his limbs all returned to their proper places he could turn his head enough to look at your face.

Alastor felt relief wash over him to see you deeply asleep in his arms. It wasn’t a bad idea, to sleep before the next spell hit him and he was too far gone to think about baths or meals.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Alastor awoke in the dark. He found his hands and ankles tied behind his back, his body naked and sweating. He was on fire, pieces of himself lifting in the hot breeze and blowing away. He could feel his body fragmenting. You were just a little ways away and he tried desperately to reach out to you but as his eyes adjusted you were suddenly too far. If he could just get you to take a single piece of him, a shard of himself, he would live still. Even when the rest of him was dead and gone, he’d be alive in your hands. A raging stress, the fire now reaching his bones. It wasn’t too late. He still had time. Just a sliver of his existence was all he needed to get to you.

When you woke up, your body was at the foot of the bed. Looking over you saw Alastor lazily stroking his painfully hard erection. His gaze downcast, vision cloudy with unmet needs.

“Alastor?” With shaky arms you lifted yourself. You were hot. Was it the fire? No, before it had no heat. A little damp outline into the comforter formed where your body had been. 

“You’re awake.” He reached over and grabbed your ankle, pulling you towards him and rolling you onto your back. Hand still around your ankle, he pulled your leg against his chest.

“Alastor.”

He sunk into you without hesitation, hips rolling into you roughly. Your body was rocking against the bed, wood creaking against wood with the steady force of his thrusts.

It felt good. Better than before, your walls felt soft and puffy around him. Alastor’s head was low, groaning every time he bottomed out. You could see just enough past him to watch the bed canopy swaying above you both before he folded you in half and leaned fully over you.

His eyes were unfocused like his mind, staring into the bed. A large palm at either side of your head, his back curved as he angled his hips to reach deeper yet.

“I’m so hot.” You were struggling to get the words out. It felt so good, the deeper in you he reached the more you seemed to be melting away.

Your hips were lifted off the mattress, held up entirely by his cock as he continued to rut into you. He could feel the fever in you rising. 

Bent and tangled together, his head was nearly above yours. He was sweating, hair stuck down and ears folded back. A bead fell from his cheek and hit your forehead. He was working so hard. Such a strong man. A strong buck. 

Something in you snapped. Something twisted and burned in your belly. You brought the other leg up to let yourself be folded in half completely, and his eyes wandered to your face. Your frontal cortex was just static as the lights were shutting off in most parts of your more human faculties. 

Everything got quiet in you, a deep seated feeling of security creeping up your legs and sinking into your bones. With Alastor in you, nothing bad could happen to you. If you were carrying his offspring you’d be guaranteed a new level of protection. You needed it. You wouldn’t survive if you weren’t fucked and bred by the overlord. 

How could your body be wrong when the feeling was so natural? So intensely confident?

“Alastor!” Your nails dug into biceps, hands clamoring up his arms to cling onto him, “breed me, please.” 

He was caught alight, mind on ablaze with his raging fever. Your plea was a magnifying glass concentrating the sun into him and sparking a wildlife. Alastor was defenseless against the way your words affected him. 

He could feel it, he could smell it, your heat triggered finally. His lips caught yours as his hands slipped up the blanket with how he had to contort to reach your mouth. You moaned into him, teeth on teeth as neither of you had any ability to finesse things.

“On your knees,” he instructed. You scrambled to turn around as he briefly left your body. A desperate whine in the seconds that stretched on, the emptiness unbearable. It hurt to have him anywhere but balls deep in you.

His hands slipped around your tail that still tried to swish side to side. When he tugged you gasped, the closest sensation you had was having your hair pulled. Chills ran up your spine. You nearly fell forward, but a strong hand wrapped around your neck and pulled your head back. He lined up, adjusting his legs wider to get down to your level.

“Are you feeling it?” He nipped at your shoulder, “Your heat?”

You pushed your ass back and pressed his tip into you. The sound that tore through your chest was answer enough for him as you tried your best to move along his length all on your own.

“You’re okay,” he squeezed lightly around your neck, pussy twitching around him as lightning snapped through you. “I’ll take care of you.”

Words that made your head spin. His body on yours felt like security. Everywhere his skin touched yours was a gulp of cold water in a drought.

A cliche, as he began to move again and his cock hit your g-spot every couple thrusts, you couldn’t tell where you ended and he began. His fever was matched to yours, no heat exchanged as warm and wet flesh moved around warm and wet flesh. Was that your hand or his on your stomach? Both were searing, both soft and slick. One of your hands was reaching down to hold his arm for support.

Eyes slipping shut, you imagined this was what being high felt like. You were out of your body entirely, feeling his dick slipping in and out of you from a different plane of existence. There was a sense your mouth was moving but no awareness of what you were saying. Truly just babbling as Alastor’s speed hitched. A clawed hand on your hip cut into you as he pressed deeper with every thrust.

He guided you down onto your stomach, hand now resting on your right shoulder to keep you in place. You were entirely flat, his knees parting your legs so he could get flush against your core. 

His knot was in place as he began to swell. You felt it again, him flooding your womb as he released directly into your twitching cervix. A euphoria filled you so totally you were sure you could feel the cells of your body humming.

Like a cool breeze had blown down, your fevers broke nearly immediately.

“Oh,” you squeaked, Alastor’s hand releasing you as he lied on top of you. The weight of him was oddly arousing as it gave a clear comparison of your smaller size. “I think you’re right. Estrus.”

He nodded, rolling you both onto your sides, “Would you like the good news or bad news first?”

Resting your head on his extended arm, you tried getting comfortable despite the sticky feeling of your skin and the burning in your thighs, “bad news.”

“You won’t be walking straight for days.” He said it with a heavy tone of pride.

“Oh geez…,” you could feel his knot still throbbing between your hips, “The good news?”

“Your heat is going to make me even more desperate to fill you,” his free hand ran down your sides and slipped between your legs to feel where you two were connected. 

You turned your head the best you could, “That’s not good news, Alastor!”

He laughed, “I lied. Oh well!”

While the good news had been a lie, the way your body’s shift into meeting Alastor’s instincts upped his feral responses was not.  You nibbled on fruit and bread and cured meats in the small windows the clouds around your humanity parted.

But when they’d roll back in, a tempest of feral wants crashing into you both, you’d find yourself clinging to the deer demon.

You could have had an apple in one hand and be mid bite when his musk would reach you and your grip would loosen. With just a moan and a lifting of your hips Alastor would be dragging you closer, crawling over your body, mounting you wherever you two happened to be.

It wasn’t that you’d become confident by the end of the day, but that you’d lost all semblance of shame and embarrassment.

When Alastor pulled you onto his lap and placed your hands on his peach fuzz covered antlers, you didn’t need verbal instructions. It took all of your arm span to reach them, so you held tightly as he thrust up into you. None of his noises had been as intoxicating as the ones he made when you were leaning over him and squeezing his prongs with every jostle of your womb. Perhaps he’d lost his shame too, loud and long moans the other residents had to have heard spilling from his open mouth. 

The wet slap of your ass coming back down onto his thighs as he bounced you was barely registered. Head hung low to meet his black engulfed eyes, you didn’t notice his smile was gone for the first time since you’d met him. Pinhole red pupils were locked on your face and imperceptibly roamed around your lust filled expression. 

One hand reached up and rubbed the soft skin of your downturn rabbit’s ears between his thumb and index finger. Soft. Velvet. 

A sensation that was wholly pleasant, not sexual in any nature but feeding the comfort provided by Alastor’s cock buried to the hilt. He wanted to enjoy the smile it gave you but he could feel his orgasm climbing exponentially.

There it was again, the darkness of your combined heat and rut slinking in. Body to body, your own sounds harmonizing with his and losing distinction. “Alastor–,” eyes drifting shut, “Please. I feel empty.” His previous loads dripping down your thighs, then down his own, and soaking into the carpet. “Fill me up. Please, can you breed me?”

His hand pulled down on your ear, “That was never in question.”

You let go of his extended prongs, arching your back to take a kiss. More. His tongue in your mouth, another hole full of Alastor. His hands both reunited on your ass and used the flesh there like handles. He fucked up into you, withholding the growing at his base, until he felt you cumming around him again. As your body sucked him in with rolling spasms, he pressed you down on his upthrust. A pained moan as it was pushed in a little late. 

Lightning behind your eyelids, your mouths hanging open and pressed together. 

Both of you a pile on the floor, a cold blue flame and soft music playing from the still broken radio. Uncharacteristically, Alastor’s arms wrapped around your smaller form and clung to you. The sensations were popping up one by one. Sticky skin, sweat rolling down your face, hair sticking to your neck and forehead. You’d have to peel each other apart. Which you did, eventually. When Alastor could pull out, he followed through on the bath he’d been thinking about. 

You protested, reminding him you’d be soaking the floor with displaced bath water as soon as the next urge to mate came around. But he laughed, smile back in place as if it had never left, “Sweetheart if I do my job right you won’t even realize you’re not in bed until you’re knotted and knocked up.”

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

He hadn’t been lying about the protective second day. But what he hadn’t anticipated was just how long that aggressive desire to keep others at a distance from you would last. While your deal had been in place for a little while before his rut, it wasn’t until after your time together in his room that it seemed to ever be used. 

But you didn’t need to call out for him, like he had said. No, anytime someone even looked at you with a nasty thought, you were graced with his presence. Most people figured it out quickly enough, but occasionally new and brave idiots would approach you with trouble. 

So when a tall and imposing creature cornered you in a shop, hand holding something sharp and shiny and asked, “Scared, little hare?", you could only smile as your face was lit up by a green glow and offer a little advice, “No, but you should be.”

deleted scene ˗ˏˋ Masterlist ˎˊ˗

˖  ݁𖥔.Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult.𖥔 ݁ ˖

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[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

for whom good omens is being written

Hey maggots and the rest of the fandom, it's the Good Omens Mascot here. Today I read a post about this tweet:

The accompanying video genuinely made me cry. And I've been thinking about this for a long while, as far back as February, when I saw a lot of conflicting opinions on what people wanted from the third season. It really is true that no matter what you do, some people will be dissatisfied. But what matters is that Neil is writing this for Terry.

And I was reminded of some paragraphs from the Good Omens TV Companion, which I'd read in Amazon's sample excerpt of the book. I know this is a long post, but I really truly do think you all need to read these, I've done my best to select only the most important parts. Here you go:

'His Alzheimer's started progressing harder and faster than either of us had expected,' says Neil, referring to a period in which Terry recognized that despite everything he could no longer write. 'We had been friends for over thirty years, and during that time he had never asked me for anything. Then, out of the blue, I received an email from him with a special request. It read: “Listen, I know how busy you are. I know you don't have time to do this, but I want you to write the script for Good Omens. You are the only human being on this planet who has the passion, love and understanding for the old girl that I do. You have to do this for me so that I can see it." And I thought, “OK, if you put it like that then I'll do it."

'I had adapted my own work in the past, writing scripts for Death: The High Cost of Living and Sandman, but not a lot else was seen. I'd also written two episodes of Doctor Who, and so I felt like I knew what I was doing. Usually, having written something once I'd rather start something new, but having a very sick co-author saying I had to do this?' Neil spreads his hands as if the answer is clear to see. 'I had to step up to the plate.' A pause, then: 'All this took place in autumn 2014, around the time that the BBC radio adaptation of Good Omens was happening,' he continues, referring to the production scripted and co-directed by Dirk Maggs and starring Peter Serafinowicz and Mark Heap. ‘Terry had talked me into writing the TV adaptation, and I thought OK, I have a few years. Only I didn't have a few years,' he says. 'Terry was unconscious by December and dead by March.'

He pauses again. 'His passing took all of us by surprise,' Neil remembers. 'About a week later, I started writing, and it was very sad. The moments Terry felt closest to me were the moments I would get stuck during the writing process. In the old days, when we wrote the novel, I would send him what I'd done or phone him up. And he would say, "Aahh, the problem, Grasshopper, is in the way you phrase the question," and I would reply, "Just tell me what to do!" which somehow always started a conversation. 'In writing the script, there were times I'd really want to talk to Terry, and also places where I'd figure something out and do something really clever, and I would want to share it with him. So, instead, I would text Terry's former personal assistant, Rob Wilkins, now his representative on Earth. It was the nearest thing I had.'

(...) As Neil himself recognizes, this is an adaptation built upon the confidence that comes from three decades of writing for page and screen. But for all the wisdom of experience, he found that above all one factor guided him throughout the process. 'Terry isn't here, which leaves me as the guardian of the soul of the story,' he explains. 'It's funny because sometimes I found myself defending Terry's bits harder or more passionately than I would defend my own bits. Take Agnes Nutter,' he says, referring to what has become a key scene in the adaptation in which the seventeenth-century author of the book of prophecies foretelling the coming of the Antichrist is burned at the stake. ‘It was a huge, complicated and incredibly expensive shoot, with bonfires built and primed to explode as well as huge crowds in costume. It had to feel just like an English village in the 1640s, and of course everyone asked if there was a cheap way of doing it. 'One suggestion was that we could tell the story using old-fashioned woodcuts and have the narrator take us through what happened, but I just thought, “No”. Because I had brought aspects of the story like Crowley and the baby swap along to the mix, and Terry created Agnes Nutter. So, if I had cut out Agnes then I wouldn't be doing right by the person who gave me this job. Terry would've rolled over in his grave.'

And, finally, this paragraph:

"Once again, Neil cites the absence of his co-writer as his drive to ensure that Good Omens translated to the screen and remained true to the original vision. 'Terry's last request to me was to make this something he would be proud of. And so that has been my job.'"

I think that's so heartwrenchingly beautiful, and so I wanted you all to read this, too, just in case you (like me) don't have the Good Omens TV Companion. It adds another layer of depth and emotion to this already complex and amazing story that we all know and love.

Share this post, if you can, please, so that more people can read these excerpts :")

Tagging @neil-gaiman, @fuckyeahgoodomens and @orpiknight, even if you've definitely read these before :)

[gravehags]

falling so badly (i'm coming apart)

Pairing: Cardinal Copia x f!Reader (Curator!Reader)

Rating: EXPLICIT, MDNI

Tags: making out, love confessions, reader is a virgin, idiots in love, masturbation, copia being a possessive little sex freak, gay trauma, vague mention of suicidal ideation, paintless copia, vulnerability, donuts

Words: 6,189

Summary: Oh, to be wooed by a Satanic cardinal.

a/n: well this was supposed to be one fic and now it's looking like it's getting split up into multiple because these hoes (me) don't know how to shut the fuck up. takes place immediately after the events of satan baby! made myself sad writing about their respective trauma so y'all better fucking like this lmao and you can expect a couple more installments :) i promise they'll eventually fuck nasty (tender)

~~~

It takes an absurdly long time for the two of you to finally reach your rooms between Copia routinely pausing to push you against the nearest wall with his fingers buried in your hair, lips slotted against yours and you doing the same to him.

His paints are a mess and you know half of them are now on your face but it matters little to either of you. Your right hand carries the bag full of gifts you received that evening while the left is entwined with Copia’s large, leather clad one and the sight makes you grin with pure delight. Finally, you took the step you’ve been dying to for months and your risk has more than paid off. Now here you are, standing outside your door hand in hand with your beloved giving each other a sideways glance. You set down your bag and turn to face him.

“Would you…would you like to come in?”

Your voice is a little shaky and you know exactly why as you watch the Cardinal gnaw on his lower lip and fidget. This has the potential to be a huge night for you, in more ways than one, and the anxiety in your stomach bubbles. He looks as if he is struggling as he lets out a deep sigh and your heart plummets.

“Dolcezza, I…” he squeezes his eyes shut, “I would love nothing more. Truly, you have no…no idea how much I desire…” 

When he reopens his eyes his gaze is hungry and you nearly gasp at the way his eyes slowly drag over the shape of you. “How I…cazzo, bellezza you have no idea how mad you make me.”

“The feeling’s mutual, believe me,” you murmur, tilting your head and watching him curiously. You’re not sure if your ears are playing tricks on you but you swear you hear him groan.

“Eh, y-yes. Well. That being said as much as I would love to…to…stay,” he says the word carefully, deliberately, “first I would like to have the chance to eh…to woo you.”

You almost laugh but suppress it when you see how earnestly he looks at you. Your beloved Cardinal. The man who took care of you when you were drunk, the man you called upon to be by your side as you cried. The man who sat in your office multiple days a week, making stupid jokes and flirting with you. Who haunted your dreams. Who listened to you vent and excitedly explain. You would do anything for him. Anything he wanted, and you suspect he would do the same for you. So you smile.

“I think it’s safe to say you’ve sufficiently wooed me for the past nine months but I’ll never say no to romance. That’s very thoughtful of you, Copia.”

You watch him blush and you know you have a gooey expression on your face.

“Bene. Bene! I just…want to give you everything you deserve. T-to take you out. Spend time…more time with you.”

Everything you deserve. You don’t know if you deserve it but you know what you want. And while it’s clear he’s not going to indulge that particular desire tonight that doesn’t mean you can’t give him a little tease, right? Slowly you lean forward to wrap your arms around him, breathing in the smoky smell of his cologne on his pellegrina. You can hear him inhale deep as his nose trails along your neck and one of his hands tentatively slides along the small of your back. You just hold him for a moment and allow him to relax into your embrace before putting your lips to his ear and murmuring your killing blow.

“I’ve waited this long, I suppose I can stay a virgin a while longer.”

His breath comes so sharp he nearly hiccups as you place a kiss to the tip of his carefully crafted sideburn and pull away. His pupils are blown, mouth hanging open and practically panting. He looks like he wants to say something but all that comes out is a slight whine. 

“Goodnight, Copia,” you murmur, picking your bag up and opening your door. You step through the threshold and turn back to face him.

“Good–” his voice comes out high and pained, “goodnight, cara mia.”

Your eyes flick over him, echoing the way he looked at you earlier, and there is an ache at the juncture of your thighs when you see the not insignificant bulge tenting his cassock. He starts when he realizes what you’ve seen, hands dropping to mask himself but the damage has been done. You shut the door with a quiet snap and you hear a rough “cazzo” being snarled through the wood. Between his kisses and that…you certainly have enough material to take care of yourself tonight. 

And you do just that.

–

He’s practically running to get to the safety of his quarters, praying to Sathanas that no one stumbles upon him in this state. His mind has to stay blank, to steer clear of the bombshell you just casually dropped on him with a kiss and a smile. If he dwells on it too long he’s going to make a mess in his trousers and he does not want to have to explain that to the abbey launderers. 

Again. 

His prayers are answered as he pants in front of his door, having steered clear of anyone who could be wandering the halls. He fumbles with his keys, hands shaking as he manages to open the door and bolt inside. It’s cold in his rooms but all of a sudden he’s too hot, the wool of his cassock restricting as he shucks off his gloves and fumbles for the buttons. He only gets halfway through with them before losing patience and tearing the garment up and over his head and throwing it to the ground. His suspenders are slid off his shoulders with such force one of them comes detached from its button on his waistband and he viciously untucks his shirt. His cock throbs as he growls and undoes the buttons, toeing off his shoes at the same time. 

“Merda,” he hisses, aware of the mess he’s making for himself but he doesn’t care. All he can think about is unzipping his pants and sliding his underwear down before collapsing to his knees. A virgin. She’s a fucking virgin. He knows he won’t last long but he spits into his palm and takes himself in hand all the same, whimpering when his thumb brushes against the swollen head. Your name spills from his lips as he wetly slides his fist up and down, thinking of the way your tongue felt gliding against his when he had you pushed up against the wall. The soft little whimpers you made into his mouth, the way your fingernails scratched at the base of his scalp. Was he the first to ignite such passions in your heart? He groans at the thought, the sound of skin on skin deafening in the dimly lit room.

“W-what a g-gift you’re giving your C-Cardinal,” he grunts, “bellezza mia–ah–my p-perfect girl. So good for me. I will make you–augh–sing.”

His knees protest the position but his hips flex upwards, rutting into his fist. When he cums it’s with a growl, imagining you blushing beneath him with your pretty mouth hanging open in a moan. Each spurt paints his chest, clinging to the abundance of fine brown hairs and dripping down his stomach. His head falls back as he pants in the dark of his sitting room, still gripping his cock. It’s usually at this point the shame begins to wash over him for imagining you so lewdly but…you were all but his now, were you not? His lips curl into a devious smile and he chuckles thinking about how sweetly you kissed him tonight - and let him kiss you. How you tease him so, the little game the two of you have played over the past months. His dolcezza. And no one else’s. He would make sure of that. When his head falls forward again to look down he sucks in a breath at the sight of his cock swelling in his grip. Hard again, and so soon? The power you hold over him is unthinkable and he aches to tell you so. And speaking of ache…his back and knees both throb but all he can think about is the smell of your perfume and the taste of mulled wine on your mouth. His beloved…oh how he longs to worship you, to spread your legs and nestle himself between them to lap at your cunt. The thought drives his fist to move once more, mouth hanging open. He should haul himself up, drag himself to his bedroom and into the shower but all he can think of is you. You come as easily to him as breathing, you always have. He’s panting as he thinks about all the sweet sounds he will eke out of you, of you giving him the honor of having you. And he would not make you regret it - content to ravish you with fingers and tongue and cock until you beg him to stop. As he continues to furiously stroke himself his mind wanders to your first confession when you had told him about your lustful actions. I want them so fucking badly and it’s so easy to think about them and what they could do to me. What I would let them do to me. A whine is wrenched from his throat and his vision starts to go blurry with the knowledge that you were talking about him. That his sick little fantasies and indulgences were all correct. And as he cums for a second time that night, his seed dripping over his fingers and onto the unforgiving hardwood floor, he’s filled with the most satisfying sense of victory.

—

When you wake up the next morning and stretch in bed until your joints pop, it takes a moment to remember the events of the previous night. You think of your lovely time spent with the Papas, the beautiful gifts you received and…oh. A shit-eating grin stretches your mouth and you bury your face into your pillow to let out a scream. Merry fucking Christmas to you. You finally, finally made the step and told Copia how you feel and it’s like the weight of the world has been lifted from your shoulders. And not only did you tell him, he reciprocated the feelings. He likes you. With a sigh you stare up at the dark wooden beams and rub your eyes til you see spots.

And then you remember.

“What the fuck is wrong with me?!” you half-shout into your bedroom, hand flying to your mouth in horror. He told you he wanted to woo you, to be sweet and treat you like you deserve and you…you idiot. Why did you feel the need to divulge one of your deepest secrets to a man you literally just told you cared for? God, that mulled wine did a number on you. What he must think of you…you look to your left and unplug your phone from the charger with every intent of texting him and apologizing for your behavior but before you can your screen lights back up with a notification.

Buongiorno, amore! I hope you slept well! Last night feels like a dream…one I wish to never awaken from.

Your phone vibrates again.

That is, I would like to awaken so that I might see you again.

And again.

It does not make last night any less dreamy, though.

You snort as your gaze goes to the ceiling. Idiot. Your idiot. Clearly you hadn’t been too off-putting, then. Sitting up you scoot backwards and type.

Morning, Copia. Thanks again for being so lovely last night <3

You type out your next thought, then hesitate.

I slept with your necklace on last night to keep you close to me. Is that weird?

Ehh…now that is off-putting. You move your thumb to delete the text and end up hitting the send button instead.

“Shitting fuck!” You fling yourself back down onto the mattress and groan with your eyes scrunched shut. Great. Now not only are you a virgin, you’re a cringe little simp too. Your phone vibrates but it takes another couple of minutes before you get the courage to look at what you’ve wrought. Finally you crack one eye open and glance at your screen.

Dolcezza. My dolcezza…you are too kind to this old man, I don’t deserve you but I adore you.

The candidness of his words makes you melt, curling into the covers to hunch over your phone. I don’t deserve you, what bullshit.

Copia, I am the very least you deserve. And I adore you back. Are you busy today?

The thought of seeing him always brought butterflies to your stomach but now they feel a little more exciting.

Nope! Yesterday was the start of the holiday, remember?

Shit, that’s right. You have the next two weeks off (with pay, Sister Imperator graciously informed you, much to your shock) and this was after you already had some time off to celebrate the holidays with your family. Truly you couldn’t imagine a better gig.

Duh, sorry! If you have a chance today, I’d love to see you. No pressure though!

Were you being too needy? You did just confess your feelings for one another last night. The quickness with which your phone vibrates again makes you jolt.

Amore mio, I am already on my way to your quarters xxx

The goofy, dreamy smile that blooms on your face disappears with alarming speed. Shit! He’s on his way!

You practically fall out of bed after flinging the covers back and immediately shuddering at how fucking cold your room is. Quickly, you strip and fumble through your drawers for some fresh clothes. Something casual but not too casual…wait. Hold the fucking bus. You look down at your phone again to check the time.

8:54 AM

Growling, you slam your dresser drawer. If you were meeting Copia at this time pre-events of last night you’d throw on a pair of leggings and a big cropped shirt and call it good. So that’s exactly what you’re going to do right now. He didn’t fall for you perfectly coiffed and styled, he fell for you being a hot mess. You never had to wear a mask in front of him before and you’re not about to start. Not after some of the shit he’s heard come out of your mouth up to and including last night. 

Anyway.

The shirt you pick is soft and well-loved, the gold grucifix he gifted you last night catching the light on your clavicle. Before leaving your room you give yourself a couple of spritzes of perfume and grab your phone. You barely have a minute to yawn in your living room when there’s a soft knock at your door. You count for five giddy seconds before walking over and opening it and you give the man before you a sleepy smile. He’s wearing what you have come to know as his “leisure clothes”, still sporting his paints despite the fact that it’s early and he’s off duty. 

“Buongiorno,” he says softly, hands fidgeting.

“Hey,” you murmur, your smile widening. The two of you stand on the threshold in silence for almost a minute when he lunges at you. The action makes you gasp but any sound from your mouth is muffled when he slots his own over it. You’re content to let him lick into your mouth for a moment, his gloved hands gripping at your waist when you come to a realization and shove him off you.

“Oh gross,” you back away and he looks horrified as if he’s done something terribly wrong, “It’s not you! I forgot to brush my teeth, shit. Sorry, sorry - give me a minute!”

He says something but you don’t hear it as you dash back into your room and take care of business, snorting at the way you’re once again smeared with his lip paint as you scrub. After you finish you take a moment to clean the black marks off your lips before returning to your living room. He still dutifully stands there, hands behind his back.

“Eh–mmph!”

You don’t give him the opportunity to say whatever he wants to say because in two strides you’ve launched yourself into his arms and latched your lips onto his. Gripping the sides of his red velour jacket you pull him towards your couch until his legs bump up against it and with an inelegant shove you push him down onto the cushions. The way he looks up at you, hair tousled and mismatched eyes filled with adoration, makes your heart feel like it’s about to burst. You cup his face in your hands, running your thumbs over his freckled cheekbones.

“Copia…Copia I think I lo–”

A sharp - infuriatingly sharp - knock rings out in the room. You growl, your hands dropping from Copia’s face and your heart sinks at the way his shoulders sag. Another knock rings out and you exhale through your nose.

“Sorry,” you murmur to Copia before making your way to the door and opening it. It’s all you can do to not spit out a terse “what?” at the person standing there. The word is halfway out your mouth when Terzo gives you a goofy grin.

“Buongiorno, bella! You slipped away from us last night and oh, how we missed you. I…”

Terzo trails off and you realize that in that short amount of time Copia has sidled up next to you, a frosty expression on his face as he wraps an arm around your waist. You give him a curious look before looking back to Terzo, whose idiotic grin has somehow gotten even wider.

“Well, well, well now this is a surprise, eh? Congratulazioni to you both…”

Copia’s arm tenses around you as Terzo’s attention returns to you.

“So…how can I help you, Terzo?”

“Ah…right. The book you told me about last night…?”

You remember recommending something to him and hum aloud before breaking free of Copia’s grip and walking over to your bookcase. The tension between the Papa and his Cardinal is palpable and you grab the title and hustle back over to the door.

“Here you go. Uh…thanks for welcoming me to your celebration last night. It was lovely.”

He makes an amused noise.

“And productive too, I see. Well we’ll speak again soon, I’ll leave you lovebirds to it. Be safe and ah, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. Ciao bella. Ciao Cardinal.”

You give him a tight smile before shutting the door and turning to your companion.

“Bit possessive for less than twenty-four hours in, no?” you say with a sly smile. Copia turns an impressive shade of red and takes a step back from you.

“I-I…I didn’t mean…I’m sorry.”

You had only meant to tease him but it’s clear you’ve struck a nerve.

“Don’t be,” you say gently, moving towards him to place your hands on his chest, “You know how I like to fuck with you. And honestly…it was hot.”

The journey his face goes on makes you laugh out loud before leaning forward and placing a kiss on his cheek.

“That being said, what was that about?”

He lets out a noise in between a groan and a sigh.

“Eh…it’s a long story.”

“Hmm, well last I checked we’ve got the next two weeks off so by all means,” you gesture to the couch, “enlighten me.”

The two of you nestle into the plump cushions, Copia looking apprehensive. You scoot closer to him and sling your leg into his lap, grabbing his hands and holding them in yours. He looks down at your entwined fingers and he smiles softly before letting out a sigh.

“Terzo and I have always had a…well, I don’t think it’s necessarily accurate to call it a rivalry. He’s always found charming people easy whereas I…have always struggled. It started when I was in my late teens at the abbey in Roma - Terzo was a little older and had already taken his vows. There was this boy. Paolo. He was new at the abbey and I was smitten as soon as I saw him. Blonde hair in ringlets that would catch the light…ah dolcezza. And what a voice he had, always standing out in the choir. I was desperate to spend time around him, would accept any scrap of attention he gave me. This went on for months and months, me trailing behind him like a puppy. One day I worked up the courage to make a move and told myself I would approach him at a party that evening. I put on my nicest outfit, oh you should have seen me, cara. My mustache barely there. I thought I looked so dapper. I walked into the party and spotted his blonde curls over by the couch as he was draped on someone else. My heart…stopped. And when I saw who it was he was kissing…well. I’m sure you can guess, eh?”

“Jesus, Copia,” you breathe, squeezing his hand. “That is…incredibly fucked up.”

He nods. “But the worst part was Terzo knew how I felt about him. He knew and he still did it anyway. I cried myself to sleep every night for a week after that. Terzo had the nerve to approach me and tell me that I was ‘too good for him anyway’. Figlio di puttana…I swung on him. Right there in the cloister for everyone to see. The little bastard rat hitting an Emeritus brother. Secondo eventually pulled me off him but I did my damage. In more ways than one - Paolo had seen the whole thing. Wouldn’t look me in the eye anymore and eventually asked for a transfer to Puglia. I never saw him again.”

He gives you a sad smile.

“Needless to say it wasn’t the first time that would happen. And Terzo would always say ‘you were too good for them, topolino, they don’t deserve you’. Well it would have been fucking nice to learn for myself, huh? When I left the Roma abbey at twenty-one and was sent abroad I was finally able to come into my own. So eh. Now you understand why I acted…the way I acted. Mi dispiace.”

“Don’t apologize,” you say softly, reaching a hand up to stroke his cheek. “I…I get it. We all have our trauma about relationships. I’ll tell you about mine in a minute but I do have to tell you this now…Terzo knew how I felt about you. Saw it almost immediately. Always encouraged me to approach you or spend time with you even when I felt self conscious about it. I can’t speak to his motivations when you were younger but I think he wanted us to get here. I mean, is it selfish and fucked up of me to want to thank him for getting you here?”

Copia nuzzles into your palm before turning his head and placing a kiss there.

“No, tesoro. I don’t think so. And…” he pauses, thoughtful, “perhaps Terzo knew none of those people were meant for me. Ah, that’s silly.” He shakes off the thought and leans over to kiss you on the forehead before looking at you with a cocked head.

“I..I suppose you want to hear my tale then?”

Your hand falls from his face and he nods.

“Only if you wish to share it.”

A deep gut-wreching sigh comes out of you and your hands fall to your lap.

“So, um. Middle school right? I was twelve. Odd…odd kid. Didn’t really have any friends, just a lot of people I hung around. Anyway, this new girl starts at my school in my grade. Hayley. She was the most beautiful thing I’d seen - long blonde hair, tall, big blue eyes. And here’s the thing - she was nice to me. Liked me even! I couldn’t believe my luck and I was infatuated. I didn’t even know I liked girls until that point but she was special. So we became friends - best friends, even - and would constantly spend time at each other’s houses. Her parents had a pool so the summer before 8th grade I was always over at her place. One day we’re alone in the water and…Christ, I don’t know what I was thinking…I lean in and peck her on the lips. She freaks out. Starts calling me the nastiest names. Some words I didn’t even know until I heard them coming from her. We get out of the pool and she tells me I have to go home but wouldn’t let me use their phone to call my mom to come pick me up. So I walked home. In my sopping wet bathing suit and flip flops and no towel I walked almost two miles to my house. Jesus, I could’ve been…ugh. Anyway I finally get home to my parents who were flipping out thinking something had happened to me and I just collapsed in the driveway, crying. Sat there on the hot pavement and sobbed and sobbed and told them everything. So you know how it goes, my mom is fucking furious and calls her mom to scream at her for what she did to me, Hayley’s mom screams back calling me some choice fucking slurs. Distinctly remember hearing ‘fat little dyke’ shouted from the receiver. Meanwhile I’m just in my room petrified because I know she’s going to tell everyone when school starts again. Devastated because my only friend whom I adored now was disgusted with me and wanted nothing to do with me. It’s…” for the first time, your voice breaks, “it’s not fucking right for a little girl to go through that, you know? My parents saw the writing on the wall and immediately sent me to therapy but nothing could have prepared me for the first day of school. Kids ignoring me I could handle but their cruelty? Their mockery? I hid in the bathroom every day just fucking suffering. Whenever I saw Hayley it was like a knife in my gut. Finally it…got to a bad point. Like, a really bad point. I almost…anyway. I finally told my parents what was going on and they transferred me to a new school. But, you know, the damage was done.”

You reach up to wipe your tears with a derisive little laugh. Copia makes soft fretting noises at you and raises your hand to his lips to pepper it with kisses.

“Amore…I have no words. No words to describe how…crudele. Children can be so vicious. And for her parents to say such awful things about anyone let alone a child…” he lets out a low growl, “I am so sorry. My bellissima dolcezza…”

“Wow this is not how I pictured this morning going,” you say with a harsh bark of laughter, sniffling, “thought we’d have a little makeout session on the couch then go get some breakfast but you know, here we are. Trauma time.”

He chuckles and the sound warms your heart.

“Thank you for listening,” you whisper before leaning forward to nestle yourself in his lap. “Thank you for always listening, my love.”

Your ear is pressed to his chest and you hear the rumble of one of his little noises.

“And you, amore. We make quite a pair, no?”

You snort inelegantly.

“What, two traumatized, autistic, bisexual bitches?”

Copia lets out a strangled noise and his chest shakes as he dissolves into laughter with his eyes closed. You lean up and peck a kiss onto his jaw.

“So…breakfast?”

“Excellent idea,” Copia says, groaning as you shift off of him and into a standing position. You take his hands and haul him off the couch, still holding on even after he’s up.

“Promise me you’ll tell me about these someday?” you say, gesturing to his gloves. He shifts to his other foot and gnaws on his lower lip.

“Eh…yes. Another long story for another time.”

You sense his discomfort and you have no desire to press the issue. Instead you press your hand to the small of his back and steer him towards the door.

“Trying to get rid of me, tesoro?”

“Hardly,” you say, opening the door and urging him out, “I wanna get down to the dining hall while there’s still donuts.”

—

The rest of the morning is deliciously lazy, with the two of you lingering over your meal long past anyone else. You’ve gotten more than one curious look from a passing sibling, whose eyes flick from your clasped hands to the way you gaze at him, resting your face on your propped up hand. You continue to pick at your scrambled eggs long after they’ve gone cold, content to listen to him ramble (the current topic is medieval Satanic mystics.) He’s filled with such a wealth of knowledge it honestly leaves you in awe, as well as makes you a little giddy to know you have access to him and his beautiful, silly brain whenever you like. Yours. He’s yours. Your eyes trace the hollows of his eyes, masked by black paint, down the length of his long nose, across the spattering of freckles on his cheeks and down to his lips. His plump, soft lips and the way they felt molded to yours. The way he had you pressed against the stone wall of that empty corridor, groaning into your mouth and fisting your hair, his thigh slotted between your legs to press right up against your–

“Cara? Did you hear what I said?”

“Mmm…h-huh what? Sorry?”

The last word comes out of your mouth a little loud and very panicked and Copia cocks his head at you, looking alarmed. You clear your throat and smile sheepishly at him, hoping to God and Satan he didn’t notice you looking at him like that.

“I asked what you would like to do for the rest of the day?”

“I–oh! Uh…what time is it?”

He looks down at his watch.

“Almost 11.”

You rub your eyes. While you might have slept well last night, all of a sudden you’re bone tired. Rehashing horrible life events will do that, you suppose.

“How do you feel about going back to bed?”

Now it’s Copia’s turn to look panicked.

“What bed? Your bed?”

“Yeah, we can nap for a few hours then…I don’t know. Watch TV. Take a walk. Whatever.”

“A nap, right,” he laughs, eyes darting, “ah…I don’t know if that’s a good idea, dolcezza.”

A sinister little grin unfurls on your lips.

“Oh yeah? Don’t trust me? Think I’m going to take advantage of you?”

His face flushes so fast you’re honestly impressed.

“N-not quite eh…cazzo. Diavoletta mia, you are making this very difficult.”

“Oh that’s a new one,” you murmur, running a fingernail over his knuckles. “Diavoletta mia, I like that.”

He gives you a pained look, one that tells you how desperately he’s holding back right now and it makes you ache. All he needs to do is say the word and you’d let him have you. He’s held your mind and soul in the palm of his hand for months now, to give him your body would be your honor. And pleasure. But instead you smile gently at him, knowing how badly he wants to treat you right. You love him for it but goddamn your vibrator is going to be exhausted in the meantime.

“You know I’m just giving you a hard time, right?” You wince at your choice of word and judging from the way his eye twitches, so does he so you redirect. “C’mon, let’s grab a couple more donuts for later then go get some rest, huh?”

The trip back to your quarters is uneventful, both hands occupied with clutching your prized donuts wrapped in napkins, which you deposit on the counter of your kitchenette. Copia hasn’t said a peep since you left the dining hall and it’s got you anxious, worried that your suggestive behavior earlier was off-putting. 

“Hey,” you murmur, raising your hand to lightly grasp at his bicep and run your thumb over the muscle lovingly, “what’s on your mind?”

“Eh, n-nothing, nothing. I’m fine, dolcezza.”

He’s not, and you know he’s not, but you don’t interrogate him further. Instead you take him by the hand and drag him to the doorway of your bedroom.

“I think some well-deserved rest will do us both good, my love.” His mustache twitches in a smile at the endearment which makes you feel relieved.

“Do you want to…um…” you gesture at his eye paint and he looks like a startled deer once again.

“I–yes. Yes, of course. My paints.”

Disengaging from him you walk to your linen closet and procure a washcloth which he takes and shuffles into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. You sigh and rub your eyes before throwing your mussed covers back and climbing into bed. Your phone gets plugged in before you settle on your side with your back facing the bathroom. Minutes go by - you’re not sure how many - and you open your mouth to holler your concern at him but ultimately stop yourself. The door opens quietly almost a minute later but you don’t turn to look at him, instead waiting for him to round the other side of the bed. When he does, you muffle a gasp at his wonderfully bare face. He nudges his shoes off and removes his sweatshirt, leaving him in a short-sleeved black t-shirt and his gloves. You’re overwhelmed - he might as well be stark naked before you for all the pale, freckled flesh you see - holding your breath as he silently peels the covers back and climbs into bed next to you. He settles on his back, staring at the beams on the ceiling and clenching his jaw. You scoot your body nearer to him, and place your fingers on his chin to tilt his face in your direction. He obligingly shifts onto his side, eyes darting everywhere but your gaze.

“Copia,” you whisper, taking in his deep-set eyes, the dark circles normally masked by black paint, and the long brown eyelashes, “you’re beautiful.”

He sucks in a breath and blinks at you, lips parted and pink from where he scrubbed the lipstick off.

“Amore…you…” he sighs heavily, “why do you care for this old man?”

You want to make a joke about hierophilia but can tell from his face this is not the time. So you settle for raw honesty.

“Copia…how could I not? After all the ways you’ve shown you care for me, how could I feel any other way about you? I—“

You can feel a lump forming in your throat so you distract yourself by raising your hand and tracing his crows feet and lines in his forehead.

“Copia, I don’t know of a better way to say this because I’ve never said it before but…I love you. I love everything about you - your mind, your wrinkles, your mustache. The grey in your hair and the way your ass looks in your cassocks,” he chokes out a laugh and leans into your touch, “Your kindness. Your infinite patience with me. The way you’re looking at me right now. I know we just…I don’t know became an item last night but…Copia you have to know I’ve loved you all along.”

Your tears are flowing freely at this point, sliding down your cheeks to soak your pillow and he brings a hand to the back of your head to draw you further towards him. Gently he kisses the salty trails on your cheeks, lips reverently brushing over your features. He addresses you by your name - not an endearment - and presses his forehead to yours.

“Ti amo, ti amo, ti amo,” he murmurs hoarsely, “you are my everything. Tu sei la mia anima. My world. Thank you.”

You’re not sure how long he cradles your face - long after your tears have dried - and when he finally pulls away you feel both incredibly full and incredibly empty. He rolls onto his back and gently pulls you against him, your chin tucked into his shoulder and hand on his chest.

“Today was a lot,” you murmur, tracing designs into his pectoral.

“Bellezza mia,” he says and you can hear his smile, “the day is not over yet. It’s not even noon.”

You groan and smack him playfully, feeling him shake with laughter beneath you.

“Stop laughing at me and go to sleep, Cardinal Copia.”

He sighs, leather-clad fingers running through your hair.

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead, amore. Your company is far too enjoyable to be unconscious in it.”

It takes all of five more minutes before he starts snoring and you grin, your face pressed against him.

Oh, to be wooed by a Satanic cardinal.

[stormandforge]

And just like that, Forge has a name.

I almost choked when I heard it. I use captions, so I could see I hadn't imagined it, and I was in absolute shock. I repeated "DANIEL?" in disbelief about 10 times, my hand on my mouth and my eyes wide. I looked at my husband to confirm I wasn't going insane. Then I stared into space for the rest of the episode.

X-Men '97 using Forge's real name was the last thing I expected. And the way they did it, too, so casually, in conversation. I'D BEEN WAITING FOR THIS FOR 30 YEARS.

You might think it's a small thing, but before X-Men '97 episode 10, so before yesterday, Forge didn't have a real name. He was introduced in 1984. Let that sink in: that's 40 years without a single Marvel writer bothering to give him a name.

The fans, myself included, came up with headcanon to justify the decision and sometimes made up names for him in fanfic (Jonathan Silvercloud being the most famous one - no it's not an alt reality name, it comes from fic), but no Marvel writer took the time to explain or rectify.

This was frankly insulting of them, especially when you consider Forge's constant presence in the comics, and the ridiculous number of names some other characters have. Also, and perhaps most importantly, Chris Claremont had already planned a name for him:

All Marvel needed to do was use this name to make it canon. Or perhaps ask Claremont if they could use it. (And if they didn't want to speak to Claremont, they could still just...make up another name. You know, that thing writers do all the time.) But no, even after the name was announced on Twitter, it still was never used, on panel or elsewhere.

Enter a simple piece of dialogue in X-Men '97, and boom, Forge has a name. It wasn't that difficult, was it? Such a small move, but it shook me like a bomb. It's a historic moment for the character, and for the people who love him as much as I do. It's like he was finally given an identity, and with it the basic dignity he deserves.

I had imagined all sorts of scenarios in which his name would be revealed - all quite dramatic or emotional. But I guess the best way to retcon something that doesn't make sense is to pretend it never happened. So revealing his long-withheld name in conversation, natural like, is absolutely perfect. I love that Forge doesn't even react, because, you know, it's just his name, no big deal.

(I'm a bit sad that Ororo wasn't the first one to call him by his first name, but hey, you can't have it all.)

As far as I'm concerned, the name is canon now. '97 isn't the comics, but it's still Marvel, and that's good enough for me. I've waited long enough. And if the first name Claremont wrote is canon, then so is the last.

Which means: Forge has a full name. *SQUEEEEEEE*

I don't know who made the decision to use Forge's name or why, but I want to thank them. They righted a major wrong.

Now catch up, Marvel Comics. Everyone deserves a name. Even the monkey wrench repairman with non-flashy powers.

Everyone, meet Daniel Lone Eagle.

[queenshelby]

Our Little Secret (Part 42)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Infidelity, Age-Gap,

The following morning, at around 8 o'clock, when Cillian was still fast asleep and somewhat hung over, he heard the doorbell  ring. With a pounding headache and heavy eyelids, he dragged himself out of bed and made his way down the stairs.

As he opened the door, he was surprised to find you, standing at the doorstep with the pram and two coffees. 

"Hey," Cillian said  , rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Hey yourself," you replied, a small smile playing on your lips as you handed him one of the coffees. "I thought you could use a little pick-me-up this morning," you told him before pressing a kiss on to his lips.

Cillian smiled nervously, trying to put on a happy face despite the emotions that were swirling within him. He couldn't shake off the guilt of what had happened the previous night with Amanda.

"Thanks," he mumbled, taking a sip of coffee.

You looked at him, your eyes studying his face. "Is everything okay?" you asked, a hint of concern in your voice.

Cillian hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to say. He couldn't tell you the truth, but he also couldn't keep lying.

"Listen, if it is about last night," you then began to say before he could even say anything. "I came here to apologize. I didn't mean to hurt you when I said that I wasn't for marriage just yet," you told him  , your voice soft and sincere.

Cillian looked away, avoiding your gaze as he took another sip of his coffee.

"It's not about that," he mumbled, still unable to look at you.

"Well, I think it is. Clearly, you are upset and I get that," you told him before tending to Mara who had just started crying in her pram. "Can I come inside so we can talk?" you asked, juggling  the baby in your arms and trying to balance the coffee in one hand.

Cillian hesitated for a moment before nodding and stepping back to let you in. He led you and Mara into the living room and gestured for you to take a seat on the couch. He sat down next to you, feeling his heart still racing as the guilt of what he had done the night before weighed heavily on him.

"Listen," he began, his voice low and hesitant as he took Mara from you, cuddling her tightly, which is when you interrupted him again.

"No, you listen Cillian," you told him. "I love you with all my heart and the fact that I am not ready to marry you has absolutely nothing to do with my feelings for you,"  you said, turning to him as you tried to steady your trembling voice.

"I just need some time to figure things out, to enjoy this moment with Mara and to begin feeling comfortable again within my own skin," you explained, and Cillian looked at you, his heart swelling with love and guilt at the same time. He knew that he should tell you the truth, but the thought of losing you was too much to bear.

"I understand," he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"No, I don't think you do and how could you?" you said, tears now filling your eyes. "Ever since this traumatic birth experience, I have been struggling with self-esteem. I hate myself. I hate the way I look and, god, that's the reason I don't even want to be seen with you because everyone will think that you can do so much better than me," you  said, sniffing back the tears that threatened to spill over.

Cillian's heart ached as he heard the sadness in your voice, and he wished that he could make you see that you were beautiful, both inside and out, and that he wouldn't trade you for the world.

But he couldn't say any of that because the guilt of what he had done the previous night was still weighing heavily on him.

"Don't say that," Cillian said, reaching out to take your hand in his. "You are the most beautiful woman I have ever met, and I mean that sincerely."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at him, feeling a mix of emotions coursing through you. "And I appreciate that Cills, but it's just something I have to work through myself you know?" you explained reluctantly. "I have been seeing a therapist for few weeks now and the therapist seems to think that I am suffering from some post-partum depression in a way,"   you said, wiping away a tear that had managed to slip out.

Cillian listened intently, his heart breaking as he heard the sadness in your voice. He couldn't believe that you had been feeling this way and he hadn't even noticed it.

"And I can see that now," you continued. "Seeing a therapist is the right step for me. And I don't want anything to come between us Cills, not even this," you said, finally looking up and meeting his gaze. "But I do need you to be patient with me. I am sorry. It's just need to take baby steps right now,"  you finished, your voice barely above a whisper.

Cillian looked at you, feeling a mix of emotions coursing through him. He wanted to tell you the truth about what happened last night, but he knew that he couldn't. Now was not the right time. It would destroy you  , the woman he loved, and he couldn't bring himself to do that. Not after everything you had been through.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" Cillian asked, his voice filled with concern. He couldn't believe that he had been so blind to what you had been going through.

"It's not something I wanted to admit to myself, let alone to anyone else," you told him, your voice wavering slightly as you tried to hold back your tears.

Cillian nodded, understanding what you meant. "Fuck Y/N, I am sorry, I should have noticed,"  Cillian admitted as he looked down at Mara, rocking her gently, as she started to fall back to sleep.

"No, you shouldn't have. I did well to suppress my feelings," you admitted before leaning against his  shoulder, taking in a deep breath.

Cillian wrapped his arm around you, holding you close until Mara was finally fast asleep again and he placed her in the bassinet in his Livingroom.

"I love you Y/N," he then said, turning towards you and gently caressing your face. "I want to be there for you, no matter what you are going through and for me you are the most perfect woman in this world."

You smiled softly, feeling the weight of his words sinking in. "I love you too, Cillian," you whispered, feeling the warmth of his touch making your heart flutter.

Cillian leaned in, pressing his lips against yours in a soft, gentle kiss. He wanted to deepen it, lose himself in the heat of your mouth and forget about the guilt that was washing over him, but it was too hard.  Cillian couldn't shake off the guilt and shame that had taken over him after his one-night stand with Amanda. He pulled away from the kiss, turning his head to the side as he took a deep breath.

"What's wrong?" you asked, looking up at him with confusion in your eyes. 

"Nothing," he responded following a long exhale, putting on act and you believed him. 

"Good, then why don't you take me upstairs while Mara is sound asleep? That sure will make me feel better," you suggested with a wink, your voice low and seductive as you looked up at Cillian with a mischievous glint in your eyes.

Cillian's heart skipped a beat as he heard your suggestion, a mix of emotions coursing through him. He knew that he shouldn't, not after what had happened with Amanda the previous night, but he couldn't resist the temptation that you presented either.

"Come on," you prompted  , taking his hand and leading him upstairs to the bedroom.

Once you were both in the bedroom, you closed the door behind you and turned to face Cillian, a seductive smile playing on your lips.

"I've been thinking about this all morning," you whispered, stepping closer to him and wrapping your arms around his neck.

"Have you just?" he  asked, his eyes wide with surprise. "All morning?"

You nodded, your eyes shining with desire as you looked up at him.

"Mmmhmm, yes, you, with your cock inside me," you murmured, biting down on your lower lip while Cillian swallowed hard, his body responding to your words without hesitation. His cock was already hardening in his pants, aching to be inside of you.

Cillian's hands wandered down to your hips, pulling you closer to him as he kissed you deeply, his tongue tracing the outline of your lips before delving inside your mouth. His fingers gripped the hem of your t-shirt, slowly pulling it up over your head and discarding it on the floor.

You moaned softly, your fingers working to unfasten the buttons of his PJ-shirt. Once his shirt had joined your t-shirt on the floor, Cillian's hands roamed over your bare skin, feeling the warmth and softness of your body under his fingertips.

Your nipples hardened under his touch, and your body arched towards him, wanting to feel more of him.

"Oh fuck, that feels good," you moaned, your breath hitching as Cillian's hand cupped your breast, his thumb brushing over your nipple, causing a small drop of milk to escape.

Cillian couldn't help but groan at your words, his cock twitching in his pants.

"You have no idea how much I want you right now," he whispered, his voice husky with desire.

You smiled, your fingers working to unfasten the button of his pants. "Then why are you still wearing these?" you teased, your voice low and sultry as you pushed his pants down his hips, freeing his cock from its confines.

Cillian's cock sprang free, hard and thick and pointing straight up at you. You wrapped your hand around it, feeling its warmth and weight as you began to stroke him slowly.

Cillian groaned, his head falling back as he closed his eyes and savored the feel of your hand on his cock.

"Fuck, Y/N," he growled, reaching down to cup your breast again, rolling your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. "I want to taste you," he groaned before, with one quick movement, he gently pushed you back on the bed. You looked up at him, your eyes sparkling with desire as he crawled between your legs, spreading them wide open.

He leaned down, his breath warm against your inner thighs as he placed a soft, lingering kiss on the delicate skin of your thigh.

"Fuck, you smell so goddamn good," Cillian growled, nuzzling against your thigh and breathing in your scent. You gasped, your back arching off the bed as his tongue darted out to trace a path along your slit.

You were already wet and ready for him, the thought of his tongue on your pussy making you quiver with desire.

Cillian groaned, his tongue gently flicking against your clit before he started to lick you in earnest. His hands gripped your hips, holding you in place as he devoured you, his tongue and lips working together to bring you close to the edge.

"Fuck, Cillian," you moaned, your fingers knotting in the sheets as you felt yourself building towards release.

Cillian seemed to sense how close you were to coming.

His tongue circled your clit with more intention, his fingers delving into your wet pussy and finding the perfect spot to stroke.

"Oh god," you cried out, your body shaking as you came hard. Your orgasm slammed into you like a freight train, sending waves of pleasure crashing over you. Cillian kept licking, swallowing every last drop of you as you rode out your climax.

Finally, you fell back on the bed, panting and spent. Cillian crawled up your body, his eyes dark with desire as he looked at you.

"You taste so fucking good," he groaned, pressing his lips against yours in a deep, passionate kiss.

You could taste yourself on his lips and it only made you want him more. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss.

Cillian groaned and reached down between your legs, his fingers finding your wetness and sliding easily into your pussy. You moaned into the kiss, your hips bucking against his hand as you rode his fingers.

Cillian groaned, his cock twitching at the feeling of your wet pussy clenching around his fingers.

"Fuck, Y/N," he growled, breaking the kiss and trailing his lips down your neck. "I need to be inside you."

"Then what are you waiting for?" you gasped, gripping his shoulders as you lifted your hips, aligning yourself with his cock.

Cillian didn't waste a moment. He thrust into you, filling you completely, causing you to cry out with pleasure.

Cillian's thrusts were desperate and urgent, as if he couldn't get deep enough inside you.

"I love you so fucking much," you moaned  , your legs wrapping around his waist as you pulled him closer, wanting to feel him deeper and closer.

"I love you too," Cillian gasped, his breath coming in short pants as he felt his orgasm building. Your nails dug into his shoulders as you went over the edge again, screaming his name and losing control.

"Cillian!"

Cillian's hips stuttered for a moment before he too fell over the edge, groaning as he filled you with his seed. He collapsed on top of you, both of you panting and sweating.

They lay there for a moment, wrapped in each other's arms, before Cillian pulled out of you with a groan.

He rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling as his breath slowly returned to normal.

"Fuck," he muttered, running a hand through his hair. "That was... intense."

You nodded, still trying to catch your breath. "Yeah," you agreed, rolling onto your side and propping your head up on your hand. "It was."

Cillian turned his head to look at you, a small smile playing on his lips before guilt came  crashing down on him again, and he looked away.

You frowned, your eyes studying his face as you tried to figure out what was going on in his mind.

"Is everything alright?" you asked, your voice filled with concern as you reached out to touch his arm.

"Yeah, everything's fine," Cillian replied, forcing a smile as he turned to look at you.

Though the sex had felt intense, and intense rightfully so, it still felt a little off and wrong. He could tell something was bothering you and that something didn't sit right with him.

"Are you sure?" you asked again, your voice soft and gentle. You could sense the tension in him and your intuition was telling you that you needed to keep probing.

Cillian looked at you, his smile wavering for a moment before he nodded. "Yeah, I'm sure," he assured you, even though he didn't quite mean it.

You sighed, your eyes searching his face for any trace of doubt or uncertainty. Seeing none, you decided to let it go, at least for now.

Tags:

@sunbeamseas @saint-ackerman @oatmealisweird @naxxsstuff @amanda08319 @r-m-cidnah @elysiannook @cillshot @infireddabdab @tastycakee @harrysbestiee @lilybabe22 @adalynlowell @henrywintersdearestgirl @ietss @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @ryiamarie @axionn

@heidimoreton @nela-cutie @futurecorps3 @delishen @nosebleeds-247 @thirteenis-myluckynumber @gills-lounge @hjmalmed @lost-fantasy @tiredkitten @sidechrisporn @smallsoulunknown @charqing-qing @hopefulinlove @aporiasposts @shycrybaby @me-and-your-husband @hjmalmed @lacontroller1991 @galxydefender @aporiasposts

@galxydefender @hunnibearrr @saint-ackerman @lunyyx @gentlemonsterjennie1 @ihavealotoffandomssorry @nadloves @lost-fantasy @nolucesn@mcavoy-girl @hjmalmed @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @blushykiss @tatumrileyslover @teawithsatanx @orijanko @rhaenyra4ever @xcinnamonmalfoyx @budugu @nadloves @kmc1989 @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @forgottenpeakywriter @smailaway @sophiaaguirred @blondie-22

[jazziejax]

Queen Treatment for

The King

Pairings- Art Donaldson x black!OC, Tashi Duncan x black!OC, Patrick Zweig x black!OC

Summary- moments between Dion King and her best friends that adore her

Warnings- slight smut, implied sexual content, sexual tension...

Jazzie Notes!- It’s me writing at 1am again knowing I have somewhere to be tomorrow:)….. sorry for any typos or mistakes, I don't enjoy reading back my own work and I type like a mad man with dyslexia. Also, sorry if this is bad, I’ve beer written smut or sexual content of any kind. Might but ever do it again honestly.

Word Count- 2,724

Part I , Part III

Dion heard the soft click of her door closing from her bed. She sat on her bed in her dorm, reading away at some old and torn biology book that was needed for a class. She was barely paying attention to the words on the thin paper, chipped corners obscuring some words as she sipped away at the honey tea Art brought her before he left.

She never raised her eyes away from the page before her as a weight was placed near her feet at the end of her bed. She knew who it was by the sound of his feet. There was silence within the room as she continued to sip from her mug and fake-read the large book in her lap, feeling his stare. It wasn’t long before she made it to the bottom of her mug, the sound echoing as she slurped up the thick honey that settled at the bottom. When finished, she sat the empty cup on the nightstand beside her and then finally looked up at the boy in front of her who had his eyes on her the entire time.

“Are you just going to fucking sit there or are you gonna say something?” She asked, not sugarcoating anything. Patrick’s face looked the same way it did yesterday, sadness etched in every crevice that only deepened with her words.

“I just wanted to explain myself.” He said somberly. Dion sighed, slamming the book on her lap closed. She then filed her arms and sat up more against the headboard, crossing her legs. “Go on then.” She said disinterestedly.

And she honestly was. Art had filled her in about the situation that caused the oddness between them all last night after her fashion show ended in him giving her the best head. He was so fucked out afterward that he just started spilling everything without Dion even having to ask. Not that she had to, Art thought she needed to know.

So, she sat there waiting. Either to hear the same information or something new.

“The whole reason Tashi and I have been acting so strange is because we argued.” He said, eyes never moving from her trying to gauge a reaction. “About you.”

“I mean, I figured that much Pat.” Dion rolled her eyes.

“But it wasn’t what you would think it would be about.” He started, angling his body in the girl's bed to face her. He left his shoes in Tashi’s room so she was just in a shirt, shorts, and gray socks. “She was angry because she felt like we were getting too close.” Dion’s brows furrowed deeply, eyes briefly igniting with rage. Seeing this, Patrick was quick to interject. “But not like that. Not like we were falling for one another or that you had a thing for me.” Then Dion went from angry to confused. “She was angry at me because she felt like I was taking you from her.” He stated, seeing the question circulating in her eyes. At that, Dion kind of just stared at him, lost in thought over the whole situation.

Dion’s never had a serious boyfriend since she and Tashi have been friends. She barely even talks to guys anymore, let alone think about that much. She had all she could ask for within Tashi. So much so, that she was a little heartbroken when the girl said she wasn’t looking for anything too serious with her. But she kept on a brave face as stuck it out. And it’s not like Tashi was doing anything with anyone else, so that kept her at ease about the whole situation.

So when they met Art and Patrick, they never would have thought things would end up the way they did. Tashi and Patrick were together but she allowed him and Dion to do things if they wanted, which was rare if she wasn’t involved. She honestly only agreed because she knew she wouldn’t be dropping Dion any time soon. The girl was like a drug to her.

Art and Dion were pretty official, at least to the people around campus, so they did things all the time. They were the same. They had the same favorite color, the same habits, same taste in music and books. They even served sort of similar. Being around him brought a light into her heart that she didn’t know she needed. And Art depended on her presence more than he’d like to admit. Sometimes just spends time in her dorm to live like a married couple. Being around Dion made him almost forget about his jealousy of Tashi and Patrick.

Almost.

But Dion and Patrick, their relationship was more than just physical. He was like a male Tashi. He was confident and sure of himself. She was lewd and loud, Dion found it endearing. He made her laugh. He taught her things no other guy has, he’s shown her this whole other world of being a person and living. He had so much to offer and this was only the beginning.

Maybe that was it.

Tashi felt as if Dion was slipping away from her. If only she knew how unlikely something like that would be.

“This whole situation is so fucking stupid.” Dion huffed, putting her head in her hands. “I mean?” She exasperated, looking back up at him. Patrick just softly nodded his head, still downtrodden from the whole blow-up of events. “Yeah. And the argument only got worse when I said she was being that way because she can’t admit her feelings for you.” He sighed.

“Oh,” Dion said, crossing her arms. “Well, it’s over now. I’ll talk to Tash and things will go back to normal.” She said, with a shrug. She was trying to quickly change the subject to something else so she wouldn’t have to focus on the fact that Tashi was avoiding her feelings in some way. Patrick could tell what she was doing, he just stared at her, admiring her as she thought.

“Do you have feelings for me?” She asked, looking up at the boy. Their eyes instantly met since he was already observing her as she played with the loose thread on her bed sheet. He jerked his head back at her question, caught off guard by her sudden movements and question.

“Jeez, Dion.” The boy groaned, throwing his head back. While she thought he was doing it out of annoyance, Patrick was honestly trying to hold back the boner he was getting just watching her. The sun shone through the blue curtains giving the girl this ethereal glow. The way her lounge-wear shirt fell off her shoulders because of its size. And those shorts she always wore that showed the bottom of her ass cheek just right. She had hundreds of those shirts and they all loved when she wore them.

“What?” Dion asked, shrugging her shoulders. “You’re the one that told me I need to be more forward.”

“That’s not what I mean, King.”

“Just answer the question.” Dion pouted, watching as he tilted his head back down to look at her. Dion always loved his eyes, probably not as much as Art’s since he had heterochromia, but Patrick’s were a close second. The honey brown starts at the rim of his pupil and expands into this beautiful blue. His eyes were always dilated, at least when she looked into them, and she loved seeing that look.

“Of course, Dion.” That was all he said. His eye herb wavering from hers. Dion smiled at his words before standing on her knees and growing closer to the male. She planted herself right next to him, still on her knees with her hands holding her weight as she sat back in her legs.

“That’s good to know.” She smiled at him. Patrick smirked, seeing the mischief swimming in her eyes. His eyes traced her features, her oiled skin, her curly roots peeking from under the towel on her head, the way one of her eyebrows was a little fuller than the other. Her lips looked sticky from the honey she sucked earlier. Everything about her was a sight to see. “Now do you think you deserve your gift?” She asked, using the sickly sweet voice she always did to get her way. The same way she sounded when they first met. Patrick nodded his head, not even giving the question a second thought as she stared the girl in the eyes.

Dion pursed her lips in a tiny pout. “I should make you work for it after being so absent these past few days.” She said, giving the boy a once over. She could see the huge bulge he had in his shorts that he was trying to hide by stuffing his hands into his shirt. Her eyes trailed back up to see his muscles poking through the shirt, the girl getting wet from his figure. “Do you think you should work for it or do you want the gift?” She asked, finally looking him back in the eye. Patrick licked his lips, eyes darting everywhere on his face before answering. “I think I should work for it.” He whispered.

Dion smirked, rising to her knees again. She never took her eyes off of him and Patrick followed hers. She looked down at him as she took the towel off her hair. Some of the parts were a little wet but that didn’t bother either of them, especially at this moment.

Dion then straddled Patrick’s lap, her knees on either side of his. He immediately untucked his hands from his shirt and latched onto her waist. He leaned in, thinking her lips were gonna meet his but she backed away at the last moment. His lips met her jawline with a wet kiss. Dion looked back and leaned in again but pulled the same move, dodging his lips to his net her cheek this time. Patrick whined at the lack of contact after a few more tries while Dion smirked. She did it one last time.

Only this time, Patrick didn’t stop. He trailed wet kisses anywhere he could as his hands squeezed at her torso. Dion sighed out a few airy moans as his kiss ended up behind her ear. Hearing just those sounds made Patrick target that spot, sucking and licking at the spot until he could feel the skin become tender under his tongue.

Unknowingly, his hands traveled down her back and under her big shirt to grab her bottom. His large hands cupping her ass instantly evoked a reaction out of the girl, letting out a loud moan. At that, Patrick groaned into her neck. He backed away from her neck to see her face morph into one of pleasure as he groped her ass. At the loss of contact, Dion looked down at him. “I didn’t say stop, did I?” She asked.

Patrick immediately got back to what he was doing, licking and kissing anywhere he could on her neck, even going down to her chest at one point. Dion was a moaning mess as he continued to okay with her ass cheeks, just the feeling of him so close to her heat made her feral. And one thing about Dion, she was a talker. She also loved herself a talker.

“You’re just so good to me baby.” She sighed into Patrick’s ear as he went to town at the top of her breast, oh so close to popping them out. “You treat me so well.” She moaned. Patrick's hips jolted at her words, loving when she just talked to him. He could cum just listening to her talk. He has once when he heard her talking Art through a climax. At that, Dion moans again, his bulge hitting her covered heat.

She then pulled away and stood up on her knees. Patrick, too engrossed in the feeling of her soft breasts on his tongue, kept licking away as he washed closer and closer to popping them out of her bra. Seeing this, Dion grabbed the back of the brunette’s head and pulled him back. His face was pink, eyes blown and lips plump. Their eyes met.

“You’ll take care of me, right?” She asked, using that sweet voice on him.

Patrick nodded, his hands still on her ass and his hips lightly rutting up against the air. Dion's eyes turned stern and she grabbed the boy by the jaw, making his lips pucker. “Speak.” She demanded.

“Yes.” At that, Dion leaned forward and gave him a wet and sort of sloppy kiss on his pursed lips.

“And you won’t hide things from me anymore?” She asked, tightening her grip on his face just a tad.

“No, never.” The boy panted with a quick shake of his head. Dion gave him another kiss, this one a little longer than the last. She broke away, a thin trail of spit connecting them. “And you know that I’ll always care for you?” She asked. Patrick nodded before he could form a verbal answer. Her words were working him up and he was close to cumming in his shorts. He’s never been this way with any girl but Dion just bought something out of him. She had a way of getting people to do what she wanted.

“Mmh hmm.” Patrick finally said, trying his best to hold back his climax as his hands continued to grip her ass and she continued to moan and speak to him. Dion brought her lips back down to his, barely moving as the boy stretched his neck to meet her in a head kiss. She was practically shoving her tongue down his throat as they kissed, and Patrick loved it. He loved that his rather docile and sweet girl was corrupting him in ways he didn’t know he liked. He didn’t know he needed it. Dion broke away, feeling the boy’s rock-hard bulge on her pussy when he lifted her ass cheeks and slapped them. She let out a loud moan into her mouth, which made him snack it again. Knowing they were close, she broke the kiss. Much to Patrick’s dismay the boy groaned.

“I know you’re close, baby. I know.” The girl cooed in between kisses on his cheek. But I have to give you your gift before we continue. She then got off his lap and turned to the nightstand next to her bed. She pulled open the first drawer and brought out a dark blue velvet box. She sat back down next to him, both of them igniting the huge bulge in his shorts.

Patrick opened the box to see a golden ring in the center of it.

He didn’t say anything as he started at the price of jewelry.

Scared of his reaction, Dion started to ramble. “It’s, uh, a jasper stone or something like that, I don’t know. I just got it because it matched the one Art has and it’s kind of like the whole fire & ice thing. It’s also a pinky ring because I felt like that fit more of your vibe—” The girl's monologue was cut off by Patrick's lips in hers. The male kissed her vigorously, trying to show all his passion and affection through one kiss. He used so much force that Dion fell back into the bed, Patrick not detaching from her as she followed her down.

Breaking away for air, Dion looked up at the boy in front of her.

“So, you like it?” The girl asked out of breath.

“I love it.” Patrick’s said, sincerity laced in his tone. “But I’d love something else a whole lot more right now.” He said, giving the girl a knowing look, his pupils bigger than before. Dion laughed as she rolled her eyes.

“Okay.” Was all she needed to say for Patrick to trail fine her body and place his face between her legs. He said in his stomach and could practically smell her arousal. It was as if they were both animals in heat at this moment. Before he could dive in, even with her shirts still in, Dion spoke.

“Did you cum in your shorts?”

“Yeah, it happened in our last kiss”. Was all the answer he gave before his lips were latching onto her bottom ones poking through her shorts.

Let me know if you guys would like to be in the taglist :)

[theysaidhush]

Dear Christopher,

-> Pairing: Ex!Bang Chan x Reader

-> You write a letter to Chan one year after he breaks up with you, asking questions you wish you had answers to before he left.

-> heavy angst, bit of smut

I thought love was everything I needed. You said it was everything we needed. I believed it. Truly did. Because even if everyone likes you, even if I am everyone, everyone is not me. They don't get to see you when waking up, they don't get to touch your face like I wish I did, don't get to hold your hand or look into your eyes when we were dinning - that, I wish I did too. I'm just realizing that I might as well be just everyone, don't you think so too?

"I will love you, to the moon and back."

Was your trip to the moon too short that it did not last long? Was trying to reach out for the stars too tiring? It wasn't even what I asked for...

I met you on a sunny day, remember? I bet you do, because as much as I want you not to, so I can blame you, I know you do. You're just like that, so perfect that it's actually hard for me to write this letter. I want to point at your flaws and scream and screech at that blank, virgin piece of paper. But I can't. It holds too much meaning to me. I still have it. Why do I still have it? Ah, seriously...

So yeah, we met on a sunny day. I think it was holidays? At least for you. Those are rare aren't they? You were nobody, walking down the street. No holy glow, no charming or alluring walk. Just you, your cap and your way too baggy black clothes. I wasn't sucked it, did not look twice at that strange man covered like a person would if walking in Netherlands. And you came to me and told me a weird pick up line with that accent of yours that made me think about what you said twice just because I couldn't comprehend it. I wouldn't have answered if it wasn't for your giggle. You were giggling. Giggling for God's sake. What man giggles in 2022? But you sucked me in, just like that. With those charming dimples. Suddenly, the ocean wasn't enough to quench my thirst, no weight was heavy enough to hold me down and no colors was enough to paint you and picture you just like you were that day. It was so overwhelming I wish I hadn't met you, that day. I was a blushing mess (I still am when recalling that scene), my hands were sweaty and I was feeling dizzy. How dare you sounding so pretty? Because yeah, you made me realize that a sound could be pretty too. I fell in love for the first time in my life. I fell when I met you.

We met later. You were late. I did not think much about it. I am not one to care for those kind of things. Still am. How could I known it was a telltale sign? How would I known? You asked me questions about myself. You were the first to actually make me feel like an interesting person. Is it fool? I don't know. But I loved telling you about my life. You always hear, you always listen. I love that about you. I could have told you about how I saw an ant carrying another ant, how funny I thought it was, and you could have laughed like you were here to witness it, like it was actually funny. I could have told you about this really sad movie that I watched a few days prior and you could have scrunched your face and furrow your eyebrows as if you were trying not to cry. I could have told you about that stain on my table that I just can't clean and your fingers would have itched to do it for me. I fell in love a second time. I fell when I got to know you.

And then you left. I appreciated spending time with you. I appreciated the way you asked me if you could hold my hand. Just by that I could tell that your mother was a lovely and respectable person. I appreciated the way you were always trying to find something to do. I did not care about that suffocating thing covering half your face.

"I wanna see you do plenty of things so that I can know what you like and what you doesn't. I wanna get to know you when you are surprised, sad, happy, delighted. I wanna fell in love with every facet of your personality." you said. Was what you found not attractive enough? Was it not enough to keep you entertained, Chan?

Then you told me you had to leave. I hoped it wasn't just a summer fling. But you asked for my number, and we talked even after you left. Even in my sleep I was thrilled about waking up and reading your text in the morning, can you believe that? Who gave you the right to take my heart hostage and to care for it? Your texts were sweet, your voice in our weekly phone calls sweeter. And those pictures of landscapes even more. Got me thinking about how I wanted to be by your side. How I wanted to watch this sunset with you, how I wanted to hold your hand and kiss you until I can't breathe.

We never kissed. I regret that. I despise that. But maybe it is because we weren't meant to. And yet, in the darkest of night I was thinking about how I wanted to be next to you. How I wanted some warmth, some love. How I wanted to trace your body with my tongue. How I wanted to hold your hands while I'm making love to you. For the first time in my life I was horny. I wanted you to fill me up, to caress and to touch. I wanted to feel your fingertips on my body, to feel you fingers in my private part, to hear your whispers in my ears as you are delicately rocking my body. For the first time in my life I was a stranger in my own body. Touching and trying to please myself just like you would do if you were there. How funny, I'm sounding like a perv.

But you slowly started to disappear. Photos getting blurry. Texts getting shorter. Phone calls getting rare. Affection being yearned for.

And then you told me that you could no longer be with me. And that's when I fell in love for the third time. I fell because I realized how our one year relationship meant to me. You took everything with you. After that, the sun rays were burning flames, the smell of coffee was suffocating, the laughs of people was defeating, my thoughts were deadly.

You got me thinking about me. About I could would have be if I never met you. A happier version of myself. Confident and proud. But instead, you got me thinking about what was wrong about me. Was I not enough? Were my quirks and habits too weird? Was my voice and my laugh repulsing? Was my body disgusting? You got me dreading looking at my reflection, you got me dreading meeting new people. What if they didn't like me? What if I was not interesting enough? What if I was too loud? too obnoxious? too silent? too shy? too quiet? to weird? too ugly? too clingy? too distant? too mean? too nice? What if I was me? What if they didn't like me?

And I hate myself for saying this, because this is not all your fault. I was insecure before meeting you. But you gave me a taste of self-confidence, and it was like drug, addicting. But it was a you thing. The way you made me feel like we were on top of the world. You took it with you. I don't know how to go back to my old self.

I hope that one day I will heal feel again. But for the moment I will try.

It's been a year now. I still love you. I'll never love someone like I loved you. But you'll never love me like you love music. And I respect that. I only found out a few months after our break up that you were a world wide star. Mask and cap be damned, your voice is one that I can't forget. I think I understand now. Why you left. And again, I respect that.

I love you. We could have talked about it

I love you. If only you had told me

I love you. I'm sorry you didn't feel loved enough to tell me about your job

I love you, I wish you just told me why you left

I'm sorry. I should have try harder.

But maybe I was just that. Maybe I was just everybody. I'll try to forget because I genuinely wants to see you happy. Maybe one day I'll thank you for helping me growing up as a person. Maybe one day I'll tell about my first love to my friends. Maybe one day I'll write you another letter and write:

"And one day, your name didn't make me smile anymore."

To Bang Christopher Chan

From A Baby-Stray Stay

[uriekukistan]

Hope your day or night is going well!! ✨

Okay, top five Megumi lines/scenes?

ahhh thank you i hope yours is as well!! and thank you for the ask!!

im in the car rn so some of these i couldn’t track down the specific chapter/page bc i dont wanna use all my data :’)

1 - “i’m not like itadori, i have no problem earning 100 points for myself.” or something along that line

one of the things that fascinates me the most about megumi is the way he places value on lives, and this line is just so cool to me. he’d said before this that he saves people unequally, but this shows just how far that goes. he’ll kill anywhere from 20-100 random people so tsumiki and itadori, the two people he cares about and thinks are worth saving more than anyone else, don’t have to get their hands dirty, and their lives hold more value to him than others. it’s also so interesting to me because of the way megumi doesn’t consider himself a good person like tsumiki or itadori, and therefore doesn’t really see himself as worth saving, so it’s just a necessary burden he has to carry as the “bad” person for those two. also add that in w this line, and im on the floor

2 - his battle vs sukuna at the detention facility/“i’m not a hero, i’m a jujutsu sorcerer”

another moment where we get an insight into his ideas on good/bad people and who deserves saving, can you tell i love this aspect of his character? i mean, he’s about to sacrifice himself for itadori to live (hopefully), even though he literally met the guy two weeks ago, because he thinks he’s a good person who deserves saving. it’s the first insight we get into megumi’s thought process, and this was really the moment that made me start paying attention to him more. i also love how he kept a softer expression on his face and didn’t cry until after itadori died, like he didnt want itadori to feel sad or guilty in his final moments im SICK also the fact that he took the name-tag to that guys mom even though he didnt have an interest in saving him, like he was paying a respect to itadori….ugh…anyway yeah i love dissecting the way he values life.

3 - “so start by saving me, itadori”

see as an itafushist of course this had to make the list like this whole chapter has me on the floor but anyway aside from that, i love thinking about this scene because the words he’s saying seem so contrary to how he thinks? like he’s asking to be saved but he doesn’t think he’s worth saving? so it needs an extra layer of consideration. i feel like he really said this more to motivate yuuji (and save tsumiki) than actually wanting to be saved himself. plus the “it’s our fault, don’t be selfish and give up all alone” aaahhahahsj i just love this moment i feel like it shows his character very well….when the idgafer actually very much gaf….

4 - his first domain expansion

hellooo this was so sick and cool and badass of him like i dont think there’s anything i need to say for this. huge character development moment for him too. add this with the simple domain he had in dagon’s domain + the part in the culling games arc where he literally hides himself in the shadows……he’s crazy powerful and i dont wanna hear anything abt it! if u were traumatized like that you’d be curled up on the floor too

5 - “if you die, i’ll kill you” both times

again as an itafushist i couldnt not include this….of course there’s implications for megumi’s character as well but i feel like there’s only so much i can talk about his moral code in one post yk? but yeah i think it just shows how much the people he cares about matter to him

also bonus i love just any culling games megumi, his determination to save tsumiki and make it so itadori doesnt have to kill anyone makes him grow so much as a character and as a sorcerer, i love it sm

thank u for the ask! any excuse to yap about megumi 🤞

[petew21-blog]

Could you do a story with a janitor swapping bodies with his hunky boss, please?

Happy retirement

This is my boss, Mr. Lark. He created his company when he was just a teenager. A company that become now one of the most profitable in town. Which made him a high class person over the years. Unfortunately the more money he had the worse his personality was. He bullied some coworkers, was mysoginistic a mainly spent all of his money on holidays, luxury cars and woman.

When he made a suprise retirement party for me, as a janitor, who worked in this company for over 25 years. Almost since the start.

The party wasn't bad, but as you can see from the photo it was just a PR stunt for my boss. After that he even made me start cleaning after the party "since it's your last day" he said and laughed. What a prick

I went to clean the last room left and that was his office. He always had ton pf garbage. But this time I only saw a few tissues there. The hand cream sat on the table. He was jerking off

Now, I don't do this a lot, but I do have some fettish. I never truly explored what it means because of my age and introverted personailty. But right now, all I kept thinking about was to inhale the tissues.

And so I did. I took them to my nose. I inhaled the strong scent of sperm. The idea that thus was just a few hours ago in my boss dick was extremely erotic to me. Suddenly I found myself eating the tissues like it was candy. And I didn't really mind.

But something else started to happen too. I must have done something forbbiden or I don't know, but my world started spinning and then I fell.

After I opened my eyes I found myself on a boat. Floating in the sea. And definitely not as myself. I was younger. Fitter. Tight and tan skin. Strong muscles.

I already had my suspicion but I needed to make sure. I got up to find out what happened. I look in the mirror and see my own boss.

As I look at my face I was mesmerized by my new incredibly healthy set of teeth and a beautiful face. Suddenly a young naked woman appeared from behind the corner.

"Hey, ready for round two? We can't wait for you any longer. We need you."

Another handsome man got close to her. And looked at me and her seductively:"We want you boss. We need you to fill us!"

Well. This is gonna be interesting.

After some time of nonstop sex, alcohol and partying we had time to relax. I slowly got adapted to my new life as the new 'boss daddy' as the young couple called me.

What happened to my body are you asking?

Well... that is rather a sad story. It seems that Mr. Lark's neurotic personality and my body didn't quite get along. Right now he is in a hospital with a heard failure. Maybe I should rush to the hospital to... you know... say goodbye.

Like I'd ever give up this body. No, I earned it and it's mine and I'm gonna enjoy it as I want. So enjoy the retirement Mr. Lark. Atleast you don't have to finish cleaning after the party

[yuuji2032003]

My thoughts on the possible gojo's return as yuji and sukuna stan.

Tbh I had no intention of writing this because the chp itself doesn't have much to discuss except that last panel.. It was another todo and yuji masterclass which I think everybody expected. Todo proved why he is such a good brother and him tricking sukuna effectively made me wonder about the accuracy of his theory on resonance. Although I did feel sad that todo didn't ask sukuna about his type lol..

About that last panel before I comment on it I want to share my honest thoughts that I had when gojo died. I expected it and his afterlife scene was perfect for me except for two things.

Him not remembering his students especially yuji when he literally wanted to damage sukuna for yuji's sake during the fight..

Him not having a single flashback not during his fight with sukuna and not with his students after his death..

These two things were really odd but at the same time i also don't believe that to solve them it's necessary for him to be alive. But there is one thing I was sure of and that is his job as the strongest was done.. And now it's up to Yuji and his students to carry it further.

So, in all honesty I am neutral towards this reveal.. Because after seeing yuji's progress and the revelations atp I don't think gege is going to shift focus on gojo.. Like we all know it's yuji who possess the ability to separate megumi from sukuna and is weakening sukuna's rct and ce output. It's not something gojo can do. Moreover there is no way gojo is coming back without being nerfed... That is if he actually comes back....

Of course there are talks about it being other possibilities and some of them are really convincing but I am not talking about them as we will know about it eventually in next chap.

What actually irritated me and prompted me to write this was the discourse happening around it, from yuji fans worrying about gojo stealing yuji's shine ,fans already declaring sukuna on the verge of death and the worst of all is that sukuna remembering gojo as he taught him love which is the most ridiculous claim I have heard from not just shippers but general fans too..

It's actually so ridiculous because readers know it's yuji who has caused any change in sukuna not gojo.. Sukuna literally chided gojo and kashimo for wanting love and made fun of them and then immediately declared that love is worthless is enough to tell that he recognizes the effort but doesn't intend to indulge in that at all... Gojo tried to reach him out through strength which sukuna rejected. It's the truth that people need to know.

I don't know why people want to think sukuna is on the verge of death lol.. We had not had his ct reveal at all and hiten. And I think people either forget or don't want to recognize that sukuna is not just a villain. he is equally important to the plot too just like yuji. He isn't dying at least in this way.

Although the reveal that todo being there to help yuta kill kenjaku kinda was funny because yuta fans wanted to convince everyone that he speed blitzed kenjaku and killed him only for them to be wrong.

I definitely believe that gege is really doing something that we will love. he hasn't disappointed before and he won't now... If anything now I am actually excited about what possibly could it be and what it means for our cast. As I am not going to let myself sway by the opinions of others.

[biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer]

I believe brittney doesn't deserve the unrecognization but i want to see relationship hcs about her. Mc/Reader is stoic and stern but can be sweet to her, A type of relationship where brittney is somehow different around Mc (Stealing glances, daily ranting to mc, i just like to think sweet things being happen)

A Gyaru's Rhapsody (Brittney x Stoic and Stern! MC/Reader - Relationship HCs)

Anon, I hope you enjoy, had fun writing for Brit, and I hope you lot enjoy reading it! (“⌒∇⌒”)

Also I do agree she is underrated AF. >:(

Also dw y'all Jess loved Brit as a bsf for life in this. <3

- Signed by biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer

Rhapsody: an effusively enthusiastic or ecstatic expression of feeling.

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You were notorious for being cold and distant.

Hell, even Geo had deemed you icy.

Across the school people had learnt to simply not interact with you, because dear gods above did you master your intimidating death-stares.

Alas, the sole person whom you genuinely got along with, to everyone's surprise?

Brittney-fucking-Claire.

People were astonished, hell, she was astonished when you and her became friends (by your wish).

Usually she's the one who made the rules, who led the charges.

But she doesn't mind.

She personally thought you were intriguing, your personality was that of Geo's and Jess's smushed together, so Brit was shook when you went out of your way to talk to her.

After a while you join the group, becoming somewhat good friends with Crowe, Jess and Deryl while getting a lot closer to Brittney.

She didn't know why, but she felt a strange sense of security around you, she felt safe.

Unjudged.

Free to say how she felt.

You warming up to her - for reasons she still couldn't figure out - along with you being so oddly nice to her made her feel strange.

Eventually she decides it's not a facade and fully accepts your friendship.

Will start splurging all her gossip to you, you want dirt? Tea? Juicy deets? She's got it all.

Starts sharing her skincare routine with you (only shared this info with Jess so you better keep it secret pookie).

Soon enough you and her start going to facials and hair salons together, then do manicures and pedicures, then each other's homes.

Essentially you worm your way into her heart, and she's worried.

She'd not felt this strongly for someone in a long fucking time.

But...you'd proven to her repeatedly by this stage you were trustworthy...that you genuinely cared about her.

It slowly creeps up on her, the realisation that she's fallen for you, hell she didn't even crush on you, she fucking fell so hard she doesn't wanna get up.

She'll ask Crowe for information about you, and then advice.

He becomes a wingman frfr

Crowe will have to drop hints for you to confess, so when you finally do (btw congrats Anons, doing that shit sounds hard), Brittney just nods briskly. "Brit...I. Like. You." "Yeah, I like myself too." (liar) "Romantically. I...wanna be with you. Genuin-" "Yes."

When you both start dating, Brittney would have already been comfortable with you to the stage of being able to talk about literally anything (y'all love shittalking the nastier girls at Olympieus)

Also defends you from bullies, and will protect you if she deems it necessary (she always will, any excuse to hit those girls is a good one)

However, she becomes much more possessive.

Not to an extent where she'll restrain you.

She will simply fight anyone who dares try and steal you from her (spoiler alert, she wins)

When one of you is sad, you have an unspoken ritual to grab vodka, go to the others' house and rant, ramble and rave on about your problems.

Banger form of therapy.

Brit will also help you study if you need it, she's willing to take notes for you, hell, even tutor you if absolutely needed.

Will also give you #girlboss treatment

You both go out looking badass.

And you have the most fun ever. In short, you're both devoted to each other. And you're both more than happy to keep it that way.

[artforinfinity]

I color coded them and you can't do anything about it :]

Reblogs appreciated <3

Elaborations for my color choices under the cut!

Siffrin, grey: ok this is probably the color choice with the least amount of meaning. One pattern in particular that I have noticed within the fandom is that with headcanon colored designs for the cast Sif always manages to still be in black and white. I, like a normal person, find this to be hilarious. You give these characters wonderful new pallets except poor Siffrin who remains in the emo dimension, brilliant. Keep doing this.

Mirabelle, pink: I love Mirabelle so so much of my gyoddd. I chose pink (plus my heart motif) for two reasons.

1. I like pink and I like lovecore

2. I like characters whose designs contradict their personalities in small ways

As a feminine aroace person myself I really really resonate and see myself in Mirabelle, like to a sort of crazy degree. So why not take her feminine traits and amp them up a bit? Why not allow myself to relate to her more? I can have fun around here! Also she is incredibly magical girl coded to me and she is technically the leader of the group so pink was just the only possible choice I could make.

Isabeau, mint/teal: so Isabeau is such a ginger to me. There is no other possibility in my mind this man is GINGER. And I associate orange with teal colors because that color combo goes crazy hard, so bam! Teal Isa was born! Also I think the color fits well as he is the most masculine character in the party.

Bonnie, orange/tan: this one is simply due to the fact that I associate both childhood and cooking with sepia tones. Do not ask me why, I couldn't explain if I tried. Also I gave them some freckles bc they deserve them.

Odile, purple: MY BELOVED ODILE!! Ok this one has a few reasons. Besides Sif her pallete is the most muted of the bunch signifying both her age and the fact that she is not from Vaugarde. I associate purple with magic, maturity, regalness, and gemstones which are all things that fit Odile well. I've shown off this coloring choice in the drawing I made for her birthday, actually, which is the piece that inspired this whole color coding ordeal anyway.

Btw Loop is red (🙂), Euphrasie is yellow (gold, high ranking in the House), and The King is blue (sadness, memory)

Anyways thanks for sitting through all that have your bonus

It's midnight I'm tired

[0mysticmidnight0]

~Mystically Broken Au - Chapter 6~

This chapter is very short, sorry-!

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Warning: Heavy ANGST, thoughts about suicide, parent deaths, etc.

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Leo's POV:

What is wrong with me? Why is this happening in the first place? We separate for YEARS and the only time I get back, Donnie gets taken away? I didn't even know that was possible. It was because of them, THEM.

But, doesn't this always make it my fault? I was the one who let him get taken away. Even argued with him.. let his lab get robbed! How could I? I should've died the day I ran out of food. I looked for help. But no one cared to even glance at me.

When I saw some filthy guy scam that old lady. I was about to get all the food I could ever need.. poor guy. He died a jerk. Oh well.

I can't help but think of Dad. Everytime I decide to take a life, I see my dad in the corner of my eye, looking at me with disgust and sadness. As well as guilt.

~Flashback~

That scammer got what was coming to him. I wipe the blood off my odachi as I take a bite out of a piece of fruit.

I see my dad in the corner of my eye. But his gaze wasn't filled with love.

"Is this what you wanted? Don't look at me like that. I had to do it. I hate you. You're just a shell of a man. A HUSK! You have no right to judge me, splinter."

"You're not my son. My son would never hurt another person wheth it be for his survival or not. From this point forward, I have no son with the name 'leonardo'. "

He looked so ashamed. Like I was disgrace. He slowly walked back into the shadows.

"Pops.. I didn't mean it. I didn't mean it. I'm sorry! Dad! ..."

I felt so small, I found myself in an empty room.. looking for him, just like I did when I was little, when I was scared.

"Dad..? Please come back..!".

~Present~

I didn't realize the tears that stained my cheeks. "pathetic" I murmur to myself. I'm sure my father- No. Splinter, would agree.

I turn my head to see them, looking at me.

"What?"

I didn't mean to say it so coldly.

~Your POV~

When I went to apologize to Leo, I heard him screaming and apologizing, who was he apologize to? I try to get closer to hear. But he saw me, he wiped his tears and looked at me.

It's like he wanted help. Should I help him? What if he pushed me away further? No, I can't let that happen.

"Any progress on finding Donnie?"

He growled.

"You Don't get to call him that."

"Donatello, did you find his whereabouts?"

"No. Not yet. You should leave, we don't need you getting into other people's business. So go home."

"No. I promised I'd help you and I will."

"If you really wanted to help, you'd know what's good for you and leave."

You were about to fight back when you looked at his face, was he pleading..?

"okay."

You replied as you shut the door behind you.

He knew he made a mistake, but what's one more mistake to his already mistaken life? He was a mistake. He knew that. But you.. you still persisted. He admired it.

I got some of the ideas from my friend:

@pvddinpawzzz

[twistedastrology]

- Cancers at their worst -

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i just saw an ig post (no shade to the original poster) that said a cancer's dark side was everything they are stereotyped to be (extremely emotional/sensitive, are way too kind and always think people are judging them) and as a cancer that may be about to go neurotic again rn im gonna tell you from my personal experience what a cancer's dark side is actually like.

like i said though im going off of mostly just my experience so if this doesn't resonate, my bad- i did my best 🙏😔

to understand the nature of a cancer at their worst, you have to actually understand water and its potential volatility.

remember when i talked abt cancers and rage and how i said cancers are fire-coded (cardinal) water? keep that in mind for just abt this entire post.

fire is pure energy, and so is water, water just has more space to hold said energy- where fire burns out quickly, water doesn't dry out that fast at all especially if you have an ocean specifically.

people who say cancers (or really any water sign honestly-) are crybabies and switch moods every 5 seconds do not understand what water really is and this topic makes me a little livid sometimes because those are the same people that made me not like my rising sign for a long time.

to understand a cancers rock bottom, think about what water can do.

tsunamis can kill hundreds of thousands of people if they're big enough.

hurricanes, and sometimes tornadoes, form over water when the temperature is right.

the pressure at the bottom of the ocean can crush almost anything in an instant except for what has specifically evolved to live down there.

rain can lead to insane flooding (fellow floridians remember hurricane ian 2yrs ago 😕)

we have explored less of our ocean than the space around us, can you imagine what oceans on other planets would be like? especially the planets or moons that are almost Entirely water?

water represents emotion, yes, but when we boil that down to water signs being overly emotional, it doesn't make any sense and it makes some people, at least the ones that are like me, ashamed of their water placements because our society loves to say "emotion = bad." when obviously that is not true.

But if we wanna talk about the actual dark shit, aka my jupiter in scorpio's favorite shit, u gotta strap in.

Cancers feel more rage than anything.

i talked abt this specifically in my cancers and rage post, but it's true for this as well.

to use myself as the example, whenever i feel depressed or upset for some reason (like today), it's never just that sad feeling, it is always accompanied by a distinct anger because i get pissed that i feel like shit.

but if that rage doesn't get its way, or worse, gets too much of its way, i can succumb to a state of misery or, at my worst, neurosis, where multiple god awful things happen.

im not one to stay down for long, the last and first time i went neurotic, it only lasted for a week until i snapped out of it, but it was still very damaging.

cancers at their worst will feel an urge to self-destruct that may or may not be uncontrollable depending on other placements in the chart and of course how shitty they feel.

they will find something detrimental to do and if they genuinely can't, they will instead just mentally rip themselves open and daydream about what it would be like to just completely lose control and fall into a self-destructive spiral.

that's what happened to me when i went neurotic. one wrong decision and, having no access to anything that would take a toll on my physical body, i ripped myself to pieces in my head and almost fell in love with the act.

like gerard way said, there's something very romantic about it.

cancers can get moody, yes, but at this point they'll go mostly numb and tearing at their soul is the only thing they enjoy.

and then the pain will catch up to them.

once that pain catches up to them, two things will happen.

they will begin to realize what they've been doing and how pointless it is, and they will activate a duality within themselves of the desire to hurt and the need for pain relief.

they will tear at themselves even more, knowing they shouldn't be doing what they are, but it's a vicious cycle.

this will happen, and then the potential for redemption begins to boil over.

after being in the dark, blissfully hidden depths of their own mental ocean, they will realize they can't breathe anymore, and they will either suffocate themselves or snap their eyes open and swim up until they see the light they deprived themselves of for however long.

once they've made it to the surface, they gasp to catch their breath, their tears being of the need for pain relief winning against their desire to hurt.

now the water is not a personal vice, but a cleansing presence that makes them feel understood. the water gets it. the water would never judge them for what they did.

after being in the dark embrace of the depths of the ocean for so long, the light finally hitting your eyes makes color seem so much more vibrant.

- 🌙 -

all this to say that, at their worst, cancers can succumb to self destruction like no other, but they have the drive to keep them going to even them out.

they don't just cry all day or switch moods 24/7, they fall into a vat of water that, the deeper they go, reveals more and more of their very soul.

it's the deepest level of shadow work, it's the pain no one wants to go through because it's the pain of losing your personal momentum and then having to find it again in an instant before it's gone forever.

OR i could be totally wrong idk But this is my experience!!!! ✨💞💞✨💞✨💞✨💞✨ God belsls!!!!!!!!

my bad that was real dark and poetic writing now i gotta balance it out Uhhhmmmmm Legalize nuclear bombs. 💥

[thatfanfictionchick]

This is intended to be...archival, for myself, mostly. But if you find it interesting you should definitely check out Ikemen Villains!

Ikevil Event - Wrapped in Wicked Romance pt.2

Ellis's Route Premium End

·✦...·✧

The moment he said that, I heard multiple sets of footsteps coming from behind us. 

(What's going on?!)

I immediately heard a gunshot. 

And in that moment, Ellis disappeared. 

Kate: “E-Ellis?!”

I turned around and saw Ellis jumping into a group of men who were holding guns. 

(What…?)

I was shocked at his speed and athleticism, as he had the men on the ground in an instant. 

(What in the world just happened?)

Ellis: “Are you all right? Are you hurt, Kate?”

Kate: “No, I'm fine. What about you?!”

Ellis: “Huh? Me? I'm fine.”

(He's acting like he just got rained on a little bit… how can he be so casual?!)

I was surprised and confused and I couldn't think straight. 

Kate: “Who were those people?”

Ellis: “The ones targeting you, I think.”

Kate: “They were after me?”

He searched around in a man’s pocket and pulled out a photo.

Ellis: “Look.”

It was definitely me in the photo.

The postmaster was very into keeping on top of trends, so he made all of us take a group photo.

(It’s supposed to be displayed at the post office. Did someone steal it? Just to show people what I looked like?)

The fact that I was definitely being targeted hit me, washing a wave of fear through me.

Ellis: “When I heard that you were almost hit by a carriage on the way back to the castle last night…”

Ellis: “I thought they might be the people Will mentioned earlier.”

Ellis: “There’s a rumor going around about a Fairytale Keeper who’s in charge of Crown. Someone’s after you.”

(Except the general public must never find out about Crown. It’s top secret, and anyone who finds out will be killed.)

Kate: “So there are people who know about Crown, and they’re out to get you?”

Ellis: “Yes. Only a small amount of people from the palace know about us, and there are some who don’t think very highly of us.”

Ellis: “There are spies from other countries who are vying to get England caught up in a scandal, probably trying to figure out if the rumors are true.”

Ellis: “Will's been looking into it, and I think he's found out who's behind it.”

Kate: “What do those people want to do with me?”

Ellis: “I don't know. Probably torture you to get you to tell them information about Crown.”

A shiver ran down my spine. 

(I never thought about being targeted due to my connection with Crown…)

Ellis: “Hey, Kate. What do you want me to do with these people?”

Kate: “What?”

Ellis: “Will said if they attacked, he'd leave it up to me to deal with them.”

Ellis: “Lackeys like this don't know anything about Crown. We can let them go as long as they don't see our abilities.”

Ellis: “Do you want me to kill them or let them go? Either way is fine.”

Kate: “What do you mean, either way is fine? Should you really let me decide someone's fate so easily?”

Ellis: “Hm? Yes, it's my job. Plus, I'd rather you be happy.”

His calm demeanor reminded me of when he said “Shall we kill her?” that night. 

He'd spoiled me with his kindness so much today that I almost forgot about it. 

There was a sense of unease around him, like darkness threatening to swallow a pool of sunlight. 

Kate: “What do you want to do, Ellis?”

Ellis: “They tried to hurt you. They're our enemies. I think it would be better to kill them.”

Ellis: “But I don't want to make you sad, either.”

He talked about people's lives and deaths as if he were choosing which jam to put on his bread. 

(Although he could be a bit pushy at times, he's also kind, considerate, and puts people's happiness first.)

(No… He's asking me because he put my happiness first.)

I just didn't know that having someone killed could be a way to make someone happy. 

Kate: “I-I want you to let them go.”

Kate: “There's no reason for you to kill them, so it wouldn't be right to do so.”

(But most of all…)

Kate: “I don't want you to get your hands dirty.”

I didn't want him to have his hands stained with blood for the sake of my happiness. 

Even if he thought he was okay with it, it was a distorted expression of love. It didn't sit right with me. 

Ellis: “You don't have to worry about me, Kate. You're too kind.”

Ellis: “All right. I'll let them go, then.”

Ellis: “And I'll burn this photo.”

He left the men on the ground and started pushing my wheelchair again. 

Once we got back home, he carried me to my room and filled the washtub with hot water for me to change my bandages. 

Ellis: “Stay still. I'll be done soon.”

Kate: “Okay…”

He touched my foot, which was submerged in the hot water, and my body tensed as his fingers skimmed across my sensitive skin. 

Ellis: “Do you not like being touched? Or are you worried about what happened today?”

The depressed tone in his usually sweet voice startled me. 

(He protected me, but I haven't even thanked him yet.)

(Even though we live in two different worlds and have different values…)

(And even if people's lives are something to be taken lightly in his opinion…)

(He really devoted his whole heart to me today.)

That was for certain. 

Kate: “No, I'm fine. Thank you for protecting me earlier.”

Ellis: “I'm glad to hear it.”

He looked relieved as he carefully wiped my wet foot and then wrapped it with clean bandages. 

(It doesn't hurt that much anymore.)

But for some reason, my heart ached as he carefully tended to me as if I were something fragile. 

I couldn't shake the shock I felt earlier…but it was like my heart had been drawn to him today. 

Kate: “I really was happy today. The end was a bit surprising, though.”

Kate: “But I'm glad you were the one I pretended to be a couple with today.”

I gave him my best smile to express my gratitude. 

Ellis: “......”

He knelt at my feet, staring at me, and then spoke in a serious voice. 

Ellis: “How happy were you today?”

Kate: “I…”

(He asked me the same thing earlier.)

Ellis: “Can't we keep pretending to be a couple tomorrow too?”

Ellis: “And that way, I can make you happy tomorrow and the next day and the day after that.”

Kate: “Please don’t joke around like that…”

Ellis: “I’m not joking.”

His eyes were filled with that same strange heat I saw during our picnic.

And I was struck again with that disturbing sense that something felt off.

(If I say yes, I get the sense that I’ll be trapped here, unable to move.)

Ellis: “I’ll make sure you’re the happiest you’ve ever been.”

He stood up then sat down next to me, his gaze trained steadily on me the entire time.

The bed creaked under his weight, making my heart pound even more.

Ellis: “What do you say, Kate?”

The gaping abyss was trying to swallow me.

And somehow, I was too deeply melted into his kindness to struggle and run away.

Fin.

·✦...·✧

[main page]

[xenomorphicdna]

On the string propaganda

Heeellll yeah

Bestie is an entire PLACE

I look at those guys and let me tell you the soul of that thing ain't just in the puppet, it's in all the neurons carrying the thoughts and emotions, it's in the power rails that serve as the heart. All the memories in the memory conflux and all the numbers we see flicker across displays, the flux condensers, the puppet; a little avatar.

No way these massive machines see life the same way we do. They have their own experiences and senses and things they hold dear. A world we can't imagine, a way of living we couldn't even comprehend.

I could never tear an iterator apart to be just a puppet. Who am I to decide how's life supposed to be enjoyed or perceived?

You treat your creechurs however you want- I ain't gonna dictate that. But damn, hearing the thrums and buzzes of the linear systems rail? They are alive with so much power, these mechanical beasts are exactly what they should be.