#Legion baby clothing.

[eternal-dragon-of-time]

Finally finished the lord of order grind. Now I get to be the most important person in the squad.

[carl-tabora]

The Necron and the Baby

Original post: https://www.reddit.com/r/ImaginaryWarhammer/comments/1exlig3/commission_babys_first_necron_drawn_by_carl_tabora/

"An-nakhrimun awkwardly stares at the tiny human in her hand, confused and unsure. The human stares back, extending tiny hands towards her while making incoherent noises, clearly unafraid of the soulless Necron.

What is she supposed to do, is she supposed to eat her? She quickly glances up, seeking instruction from the mature human couple, yet to her dismay only receiving their smiles.

Ever since awoke from the Great Sleep and subsequent exile by Illuminor Szeras, she has been drowning in despair and sadness, wallowing at the memory of her failing her entire species and the terrible fate upon herself and her mother. Landing her ship on this nameless planet, she sat upon the top of her ship's exterior and fell into unmoving catatonia, with only the maintenance of her mother, now a mindless warrior, drove her to act slightly.

Not even herself realized how long it had been, but before she realized, an alien race that called themselves “human” appeared. Time has been hard to grasp for An-nakhrimun, as the humans have been in a completely different state each time she paid attention to them. From colonizing the planet, building gleaming cities, fighting among themselves against their robotic servants, collapsing into primitivism, and rebuilding their society with even more inferior technology. She is the only unchanged constant on this planet.

Humans have long used to her presence, sometimes even scaling her ship to try to communicate with her. Now, with her ship buried under dirt, humans have built a park around her seat, these interactions only became more frequent. Sometimes when she pays attention, she could even see humans sketching her figure with primitive pen and papers.

Most of the interaction has been quiet and distanced, but only once, she was forced into physical confrontation.

On a heavy snowy night, two tiny humans, male and female, wearing tattered clothes, stumbled to her seat, cold and shaking. They have no home to return to, and in the winter’s chill, they will not see tomorrow’s sunrise. They embraced the metal alien lady, waiting to die, instead, they found a warm energy dome around her. An-nakhrimun, frozen in confusion and flustered at the tiny humans grabbing onto her, channeled a deflection shield to repel the coldness, in order to try scaring them away.

She sighed a silent relief when they finally left when the sun rise, and didn’t even realize just for that night, she paid so much attention to those two humans, she even forgot to wallow in her own sadness.

Since then, An-nakhrimun sometimes would find small trinkets and items on herself and her mother, scarf, small flower, sachet. She does not understand the purpose, yet keeps them as it might be of some significance she doesn’t get.

Now the two humans have matured, and they came to her with their own offspring, like a female feline eager to show its master what she produced, and asked her to join them on a “family dinner”.

The word sounds so foreign, yet so familiar. Though she lacks the flesh to consume food anymore, she remembers how her mother used to be smiling at the dinner table even with barely any food. She glances at her mindless mother, and allows both of them to be dragged out of the park.

The interaction with humans has distracted her from her own sadness, and she doesn’t hate it.

Yet, such a time would be short lived, as the current Terra time is 850.M30, and the 16th legion of power armoured genetic soldiers, serving the self-proclaimed Emperor of Mankind, will be arriving into the system in less than a year…

Scene art for my tabletop campaign, depicting the pre-campaign story of Lone Cryptek An-Nakhrimun, who sat on a planet being depressed for 10k+ years until Great Crusade came knocking. And the baby that would become the origin of her fake human face."

[milky-aeons]

— PRETTY, PRETTY BOY

౨ৎ . . . there was a saying in the port mafia; that amongst their ranks hid an angel in disguise, who, through simple words alone, could make any man bend to her mercy. nobody could really resist her blinding charm. her mafioso boyfriend, of course, was no exemption.

alternatively, you convince CHUUYA NAKAHARA to try on a maid's uniform. You like it a lot more than you thought.

warnings: criminal themes, swearing, female reader, slight manipulation, pet-names, suggestive content, w.c 1.9k

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐌𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐈𝐓 𝐀𝐒 𝐀 𝐉𝐎𝐊𝐄, at first. For your stout, temperamental mafioso lover was always such a pleasure to tease. He took everything so seriously, in that adorable, flustered way of his. Not many would think that the Chuuya Nakahara was so easy to work up. He commanded soldiers, legions; men were terrified of the underground General who was also a mortal master of gravity. Maybe it was a side to him he kept reserved just for you. That soft, cheeky side. The blush that always heated his ears to the colour of his hair whenever you decided to play with him.

"No fuckin' way."

You stood there in the bedroom you both shared — lavish and expensive, sitting on one of the highest floors of the Port Mafia's headquarters. He had already discarded his coat and hat, was busy scratching the crown of his head when you had put the question to him. Interrupting his yawn mid-way. Chuuya's eyebrows had scrunched, he'd shot you a disbelieving retort — the hell did you just say? Then, he caught sight of what was draped across your bent forearm.

His eyes had flickered from yours, to the dress, to yours, once more. When he asked you to say that again, that he didn't think he had heard you right, he had shut you down with that very blunt denial.

"Please?" You pouted, batting your eyelashes. "It's just a bit of fun. You'd look so adorable, Chuuya!"

"Hah?! No!" Chuuya snapped. He was like an angry kitten, his canines sharp and baring. "The fuck did you even get that thing, anyway?"

"I think Mori ordered the wrong size for Elise-chan," You held up the dress so it draped down, almost the length of your body, but not quite. It just barely sat a size too small. With its narrow set waist and countless little frills, you were, at first, a little disappointed — that such a pretty thing was going to go to waste. And then, the gears in your mind began their mischievous little tune. You looked at Chuuya with wide, imploring eyes. "Are you scared to put on a dress, my love?"

Chuuya scoffed, rolling his eyes. "I'm not scared of anything, baby doll."

"Then put it on."

"Go fuck yourself."

"You're so mean!"

At your wounded tone, the General's shoulders tightened a little. When he stole a glance in your direction, he saw the way your eyebrows drooped over your sad doe eyes, how your full lips formed that pretty little pout. Damn him, he was not considering this shit, there was absolutely no way Chuuya Nakahara was going to fit himself into that ugly piece of cloth just to make you happy. Murder, espionage — sure. For you, he wouldn't even give it a second thought. It would come as natural to him as breathing air.

But this?

He poked his cheek with his tongue. He began angrily tapping his foot against the carpeted floor. Stealing a second glance at the woman he loved, he caught the shadow of disappointment hanging over your head like an ominous raincloud, and felt the last shred of his resistance dissipate into sorry little afterthoughts.

Chuuya let out an extremely exaggerated sigh. Blinking, you glanced at him. He had his head bowed a little and was holding out one open, gloved palm.

"Hand it over."

A little startled all of a sudden, you gawped, making a strange sound. "Huh?"

An impatient growl echoed in the air. Chuuya looked up to glare at you from underneath his fair lashes, his eyes the colour of diamonds, of hard impenetrable sapphires. They narrowed dangerously when you were staring too long at the rose that blushed against his alabaster skin.

"So? Are ya gonna give me the shitty little thing, or not?"

Quickly understanding that he was actually taking you seriously, that he was considering your little charade, you had become too stupefied to do anything else. With hesitant fingers did you hold the maid's dress out to him, which he snatched from your grip in one forceful, swiping movement. You thought you caught the ends of the fuckin' shit I do for this woman, at the tail of it, but you couldn't be totally sure.

Seething, Chuuya balled the garment in his fist and marched off to your on-suite bathroom. He took a little longer than you expected him to — of course, he had never tried on a dress before. Maybe he was having trouble getting past all the ribbons and buttons, ties and zippers.

"Fuck me!" You heard him swear through the door after a few more moments of silence. Tender chuckles rose like bubbles in your chest — he was trying so hard to please you, exposing that soft side you kept under lock and key, only for yourself to indulge.

You lifted your hand to knock softly on the door. "Do you need some help in there?"

A growling blue-streak of profanities. Somehow, becoming more colourful and creative than the last. "How the hell do you women wake up in the morning and do this shit, every day? There's like, a million buttons on this ugly piece of crap!"

Crashing and banging mixed into the collection of sounds that was coming from the small bathroom. Amused, but also a little worried that he'd pull a little too hard on one of the ribbons and fall backwards against the toilet seat, you placed your hand on the golden doorhandle.

"Because us women are just that amazing," You mused, not resisting the urge to goad him. Your voice then dropped into a serious lilt. "Really, it's okay, Chuuya — you don't have to—"

That was when you felt it — the cool, insistent press of gravity, the humming in the air that told you your lover had activated his fearful technique. Your eyes shot down to where it was coming from, and to your immediate surprise, you saw the soft glow of crimson enveloped around the handle you were trying to unlatch — holding it securely in place.

"No. I said I'd fuckin' do it, didn't I?" Chuuya remarked through the wood. "So I will. Go wait over at the bed."

Prideful, stubborn man, you thought, rolling your eyes at his defensive tone, oh, how you loved him. "Okay." You sang sweetly, then stepped away from the bathroom door so as to sashay over to your expansive king size. You barely had a chance to set yourself down on the satin sheets when — bang!

The on-suite door had been thrown off of its hinges and cracked against the neighbouring wall with the force he put behind it. And standing there in the doorway in all his blood-boiling, skin-heating, frill-covered glory, was that very General who instilled terror to even the most seasoned of underground criminals. The long black dress that stopped just at his ankles and puffed at the shoulders threw his wild fiery hair into focus. The frilly white apron hanging loosely at his narrow waist contested with the bright red flush creeping up his neck.

You must have been staring at him for a little too long, because Chuuya snarled. "You happy now? I look damn ridiculous."

You didn't laugh. Nor did you tease him, as always, but you rose slowly up off of the bed and began to walk over to him. Stalk him, quietly, your expression a smooth, unreadable slate. The extreme lack of a reaction from you was making Chuuya's eyebrows knit, his lips softening from snarl to frown.

"O-Oi?"

When you reached him, you shot out to grab the little lapels of the dress that collared his long neck and tugged him down. So that he came just eye level with your own darker, smouldering ones. Oh, you were going to pounce on him. Packaged up in that pretty little parcel for you, you were going to devour him where he stood.

You smiled, leaning in, and whispered, "Told you you'd look absolutely adorable, my pretty, pretty boy."

requested by the lovely [ @ringsofsaturnnnn! ]

[moodymisty]

What each Primach would do after marrying their beloved

Lion El'Jonson: Hi, wife. I'll be your knight in shining armour but I'll forget about you 3 min into the marriage

Fulgrim: Helllooo!! Welcome to the party 🥳🥳 Make sure to bicker with my other wives for me so I can't feel insecure anymore and I'll get my daily validation

Perturabo: Get wife (impossible). Wife pretty. Iron Within, Iron Without. Wife feels good. Iron Within, Iron Without again. Become emotionally and physically dependent to wife. Life good.

Jaghatai Khan: zzzzzzzzzz-PANG ⚡⚡⚡🏍️🏍️ HI DARLING. FEEL FREE TO BECOME FRIENDS WITH ALL MY OTHER 358.947.283 WIVES (also tomorrow will be Missionary Monday, get ready 😈)

Leman Russ: WIFEEEE 🥹🥹🥹 love you soooooooooo much. You smelllllll so gooooood. Why don't you spread those le-

Rogal Dorn: Wife, let me tell you about Multi-Scale Computational Modeling of Anisotropic Thermo-Mechanical Behavior in Functionally Graded Materials for Advanced Aerospace Structural Applications.

Konrad Curze: Woman. Make bebe with woman. LITTLE ABOMINATIONS??? Woman is set for life after popping out some Night Lords :D

Sanguinius: Hello wife 🥰🥰 How is my pookie dookie wookie lookie iookie uookie oookie qookie sookie dookie bookie pookie nookie mookie hookie gookie zookie xookie lookie jookie aookie fookie wookie cutie pie honey baby apple pie with whipper cream on top my sweetie honey money baby cutie pookie so cute so perfect my love my husband my wife my beloved my only love my baby my babe my bby my boyfriend my girlfriend my everything my sweetest pie my cutest smartest pie ever most amazing and prettiest and handsomest ever so cute so handsome and beautiful my pookie bear my little baby petite tiny baby bear pookie sookie wookie muffin with chocolate on top and cherries so cute pookie bear love you mwah bark so cute love you forever my first love my true love my soulmate my only reason to live you cutie little pie hehe im little shy petite girlie pop cutest person i know so cute so beautiful my only mine only no one elses my darling mi amor dear love pookie bear love you honey boney love you to the moon and back mwah uwu (he says this after leaving her anemic)

Ferrus Manus: I live harmoniously with my love. I love her and I respect her. I am completely devoted and loyal to her, as she is with me. I am hers and she is mine. (wife in the background struggles to walk, her clothes being disheveled and she is out of breath)

Angron: SHE IS MY WIFE! YOU GOT THAT? MY WIFE! She's damn cute, okay? CUDDLY, EVEN! AND SHE... she leaves me the milk bottle in the fridge, alright?! SHE DOES THAT FOR ME! I LOVE HER SO DAMN MUCH, AND DON'T YOU FORGET IT! 🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬😡😡😡🤬😡😡🤬😡

Roboute Guilliman: I so very regrettably regret that I haven't ran away earlier into my life. As I am married now with a child coming on the way, my biggest and grandest wish was to own myself a farm. I want to teach my children the simpler ways. I want them to play with wooden toys, ride horses out of the womb and to, all around, run around my farms. I want to take care of many crops, especially the mighty cabbage (pun, pun). As for my darling wife, I shall love very much and plow her back every two to four years. *Looks towards his wife, who's a little bit afraid*. We must at least have 6 children, mustn't we?

Mortarion: Today I saw my wife's ankle. She was wearing sandals with a very long skirt and it slipped out while she walked. Nevertheless, I came on a Nurgling.

Magnus: My wife? *Psychically enters her mind, while she is in the another room, and sexually overstimulate her, making her scream in ecstasy* She's doing great!

Horus Lupercal: My wife's a housewife. Because she's housing my kids! *Horus slaps his knee, laughing at his joke. The Mournival is disappointed in their Father, the Legion Mother is waddling around pregnant with their 12th kid.*

Lorgar Aurelian: (what did I cook)

Lorgar, wild-eyed and disheveled, paces back and forth, his voice rising and falling in feverish tones. His eyes are fixated on an unseen figure, trembling with a mix of adoration and desperation.

"She is divine! Do you hear me? DIVINE! Her light, it burns away the lies of this wretched universe! A goddess, yes, a goddess! How can they not see? HOW?!

Her eyes, like the twin suns of a lost paradise, see through the veils of reality! Her voice—her voice!—it is the hymn of creation itself! I am but a worm, a pitiful creature crawling in the dirt, but SHE, she has lifted me up! Blessed me with her radiance! Blessed me with HER TOUCH!

I kneel before her, broken, unworthy! The very stars tremble in her presence! They whisper her name, but Iam the chosen! I see her! I worship her! I... I... I LOVE HER! No! Not love—reverence, adoration, worship! I will burn worlds for her! Tear apart the heavens!

I am HERS. BODY, MIND, AND SOUL. HER PRIEST, HER PROPHET, HER LOVER. My faith in her is unbreakable, my devotion absolute. She is a GODDESS, My goddess, and I am lost in her divinity. FOREVER."

Lorgar collapses to his knees, clutching at his head, a broken laugh escaping his lips.

"Goddess... my goddess... please... take me... consume me... make me yours..."

Vulkan: I like my wife :3. She's very pretty. My sons like her too.

Corvus Corax: I am glad my wife's this kind. Nobody would understand me but her. Because I am in Spain without the S 😔😔

Alpharius and Omegon: My wife? Nah. Our wife. *USSR anthem begins*

LSJDKFLJSDFKJSDF-

I have no words, so many of these made me wheeze uncontrollably. Sanguinius, Horus, Mortarion and Alpharius were a highlight.

[lymmielove]

fairy tail headcanons bc why not

Natsu has the neatest handwriting out of the kids the grew up in Fairy Tail (Gray, Erza, Cana, Levy, etc..), Erza has the worst one.

Romeo's last name is actually Rose. His Dad and His Mom divorced, and he chose to have his Mom's last name since she raised him better anyways. So, his full name's Romeo Rose. Wendy told him his name was pretty. He blushed with pink fire coming out of his nose

Speaking of Romeo and Wendy, they're besties. They be gossiping about guild drama behind all they backs. Wendy knows about shit she shouldn't because Romeo was both literally and figuratively born in the guild

Lucy has Aquarius. Yukino has Scorpio. The two wizards are straight pen pals bc of it

Loke and Aries are dating. Ophiuchus was the only Zodiac to know.

Rogue cannot handle alcohol. He drinks mocktails

When the Barbie Movie came out, The kids who grew up in Fairy Tail dressed up in extravagant pink. Gajeel, Lucy, and Juvia went to go see Oppenheimer.

Romeo, Wendy, and Sherria are the friends you wouldnt expect to be friends

During when the gang was gone for seven years, Romeo got all of their clothes from when they were kids. He keeps them in his room. The gang knows, but doesn't comment on it seeing as they practically raised the kid.

Romeo's mom is a member of Quatro Cerberus. She was banished from Magnolia on something she didn't commit. After The GMG, she was allowed back. The Fairy Kid gang calls her "Auntie Enno"

Levy is the most "like that" out of the Fairy Kids. She has a glock and everything. When she was younger she always wanted the smoke.

Freed is the most "like that" out of the Thunder Legion. The Wizard Saints fear him. The Council fears him. Laxus loves him.

Bickslow's babies have deemed Lisanna as they mama. Bickslow doesn't mind.

Lisanna came back to the guild and immediately turned bi. Too many hot ladies and pretty men.

Yukino's first kiss was Minerva when they were like 12. Yukino didn't know it was Minerva until she met her in Sabertooth.

Minerva, Sting, Rogue, Orga, Rufus, and Yukino all had a plan to try and off Jiemma. Sting just snapped enough to get him early.

Yukino actually constantly compares herself to Lucy a lot. Yukino's dream was to get all 13 zodiac keys, but Lucy has them, so she backed off. She came very close to breaking all her contracts even after when she had her convo with Lucy. Her and Ophiuchus had a very heartfelt convo afterwards.

All dragons have a "dragon thing." Wendy can stop storms in their tracks several countries away. Gajeel's a human metal detector and magnet. Sting's a human glowstick. Rogue can bend rooms to his will if they're pitch black. Natsu has the highest spice tolerance in all of Earthland, AND he sheds scales regularly that can be mini-bombs if used correctly.

All dragon slayers (THAT HAD DRAGON PARENTS) are 85% dragon and 15% human. I didn't make the rules. They all have tails and horns and visible scales.

Dragon Slayers have a hoard network where they share treasures (i'll elaborate on this later)

[ja3yun]

OMG tell us about your dream 👀👀👀👀 your loyal subjects await

okaay its not my proudest dream bc it was filthy and i think i had just wrote too much about him 😮��💨 but basically (nsfw mdni)

heelzebub and yn (me+you oops) are in his room blah blah blah and then yn says smthn about how you want to visit hell just once but hee said it was too dangerous because ofc they might sense alaida but you say you want to see the real him, all sexy like bc heeseung isn't the only one that can use his body to persuade 😌

then when he does he unveils himself and he's hot (not a fly like that one anon bc istg if i had dreamed of a that instead i would have passed away)

and then he leads you to his throne and makes you sit on his lap, grinding on his cock once he tears your clothes off and he makes you cum obvs just by slipping it between your folds (i didnt dream this part but i can imagine it) and then he hears his legion of soldiers and trapped souls crying out bc they heard her screaming for him.

"imagine i fucked an heir into you right now," he says as a joke bc he can hear the pathetic drones of those below him and an heir would help rule his legions, but you whimper and he gets so fucking cocky. "oh? would you like that? to get fucked by my fat cock and have my babies hmm?"

and obviously you say yes, more like mewl it, and he literally impales you with it, no lube, no nothing like she is taking that cock right here and now and its BIG like inches galore, thick, veiny...anyway...

he fucks in every position but his fave is when he holds your throat against the back of the throne and piledrives into your weeping pussy, like you are squirming to get away because its so brutal (you also love love love it obvs) but hee doesn't care, he's so fucking lost in the idea of filling you to the brim. like there is so much cum it's oozing out even with his cock as a plug. "i'm fucking you so full baby, you're loving it aren't you?"

and he goes forever, too. he would fuck you forever if he could but he knows if he stays down in hell with you and alaida too long your soul will get burnt (idk) and also lucifer could find alaida so he's going hard and fast. "you're going to look so beautiful pregnant, princess. i should just keep fucking heirs into you, hmm?"

heeeseung is grunting and panting, finally cumming inside you for the nth time but the soldiers are so loud he has to get you out of there. he forces you to plunge your fingers into. "keep them there, baby. can't let any of that cum go to waste."

and when he flashes you both back he is back in her doll suit and you're laying on the bed absolutely spent, fingers in your cunt and cum coating your folds so beautifully. "fuck, even if we don't have kids, i'm going to keep fucking you like that forever."

[eliteseven]

Please can we get some autumn headcanon for Shadowheart in her cottage?

Aww sure! 🥰 idk if these are specific to autumn per se but they are cozy!

Some Shadowheart Cottagecore

🍁Autumn🍁 HC’s:

-The animals playing in falling leaves! Big trio of Buttons, Owlbear, and Scratch taking turns jumping and zooming between stacks of raked leaves. Shadowheart watches with such delight, until Tav yanks her into a pile herself. She laughs with such childlike delight, and it makes Tav’s heart sing, bc she deserved this happiness her entire life 🥺💕 so she takes it upon herself to be the one to give it to her. They play in the leaves like children. Arnell and Emmeline get emotional watching from afar.

-Shadowheart enjoys cuddling with Daphne in the warmth of the barn (they give her some extra bedding for the cold) and all the animals like to cuddle up beside them 🥹 they probably make some blankets and maybe even sweaters for their animal crew, too.

-Hot cider! Spiced wine! Warm drinks that get them pleasantly buzzed and swaying together on those cool autumn nights. Shadowheart getting tipsy and her boisterous laughter making Tav feel warmer than any fire ever could

-Shadowheart likes watching Tav cut firewood. Something about her girl working up a sweat and those arms holding an axe…. 🥵 but lbr Tav enjoys watching Shads doing the same things so they’re probably splitting the duties fairly 😅

-Well, we have to talk about their crops, right? It would be harvest time! Arnell, Emmeline, Tav, Shads, and a legion of animals in their gardens, reaping the benefits of a fruitful season! Plus food storage for all these crops- they’ll have their hands full! But it’s rewarding ☺️

-also: sharing their surplus harvest with the local families/kids? Shadowheart and Tav getting hardcore baby fever when they host a little dinner at their place for their closest neighbors? Shadowheart especially warming up to the idea that the kids love her??? 😭

-colder weather means warmer clothes and Emmeline’s scarves!!! They buy a lot of their clothes from the city but Emmeline takes so much pride in feeling useful 🥹💕idc if ugly sweaters don’t exist here, they do now! She makes matching ones for Tav and Shads.

-staying in bed longer bc it’s cold out 🥰 reading books, talking, just cuddling together under the furs. Shadowheart increasingly likes the animals on the bed the colder it gets. There is no room for Tav to move even an inch. She looks at Shadowheart’s absolute grin as she’s buried under a mountain of fluff and she wouldn’t trade it for the world.

-bringing each other tea on particularly chilly days and stealing each other away from chores for a moment of peace 🥹

- this is a bit wintery but the lake freezing over? Something in my heart tells me Shadowheart would be SO graceful in whatever the BG3 equivalent of ice skating is. Gliding so gracefully over a frozen body of water, the same kind that used to terrify her? While Tav does her best impression of a slipping and sliding baby deer? 🥹😭 she’d be so proud. And when baby Jen comes? Oh, the three of them would simply have the best time together.

[londonfog-chan]

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader: Rite Here, Rite Now Part 1

This two shot fic is dedicated to that poor soul on TikTok getting shitty comments about a headcanon of Eddie liking Ghost. Fandom has become so damn toxic bro. Who cares about what an imaginary character likes or dislikes?? We are cringe, we are legion. We make out of pocket headcanons sometimes. Like come on, Eddie might “theoretically” dislike Mary On A Cross specifically for various reasons, but I could see him having some favorites. You can’t say he would entirely hate Ghost when fucking Year Zero and Mummy Dust exist. Or the whole of Prequelle as an album. I had to laugh at one person saying he liked Avenged Sevenfold (it didn’t exist in the 80’s and neither did Ghost like we are literally arguing about shit he wouldn’t have known about be so serious rn). But I digress. I’ve even gotten a couple hateful comments on a fun little TikTok I made and I honestly have just been deleting them and blocking. Don’t even want to deal with people’s bullshit anymore. Please enjoy this spite fic and continue writing and having fun babes. Go against the flow and make Eddie proud.

Part 1 (You are Here), Part 2

***

Every member of Corroded Coffin could tell when you arrived to a function. Eddie knew the sound of your car like a cat that knows when its owner is home, and he’d be waiting outside the school to greet you first. That and the car make and model. Someone always called it if not Eddie. He’d been off his game today though, definitely the excited nerves. Jeff called out your 1979 Volkswagen Beetle heading up the driveway by slugging Eddie hard on the bicep, Gareth and Dougie immediately following up with calling “no tag backs” as they rushed to hit each other and Eddie like a bunch of middle schoolers. Eddie almost got nailed by Dougie’s beefy fist until he nimbly dodged out of the way, cradling his prized Warlock like it was a newborn.

“God dammit, easy asshole!” Eddie laughed. “Don’t be hitting my baby! I need her intact if I’m going to impress our songstress.”

“Trust me Ed, she doesn’t need more impressing. You had her in a tizzy when you asked her to write a song for you. I wonder what she came up with.” Gareth said, leaning forward so his hands were settled on both his high and medium toms, he was watching your approach intently with a gleam in his eye. “She didn’t even make it to campaign on Friday. Must have really been in the zone.”

You parked the car against the side of the driveway, emerging looking as though you’d just swallowed a whole mouthful of cry baby sour gum. Your lips were pressed tightly together, clutching your fat Trapper Keeper to your chest as you approached the group.

“Hey sweetheart!” Eddie called, waving you over enthusiastically. “You okay?”

“Eddie… God it’s so bad… It’s worse than I thought.” You said, grimacing.

God you looked delicious. He couldn’t help himself but to stare and smile like a dope. With each step your flowing gray skirt swished enticingly side to side, and with a bit of pride Eddie noticed you were wearing the Twisted Sister shirt he’d distressed for you, looking like an adorable snack of a metalhead with your black clothes, black opaque tights and dirty Chucks.

Eddie’s smile faltered only slightly when he heard your self depreciation.

“Oh come on, can’t be that bad. Not with those grades you’ve got in English. Let me see…”

“Fuck no! No seriously… it’s worse than you think.” You insisted, shaking your head and pulling away from his outstretched hand, “It’s so… God dammit! What the hell was I thinking…?”

Gareth, Jeff and Dougie left their instruments to approach you, Eddie putting both hands on your shoulders to comfort you.

“Hey, hey… come on, don’t be like that.” He said, smile gone and a more serious look on his face. “I get it, I really do. It comes with the territory of writing your own songs. Trust me, I’ve done it for years. You won’t pick it up overnight, and whatever you think is weak we can work on it together. I’m a DM honey, I can have my pen out faster than you can blink and help redraft as many times as it takes.”

“Oh… god dammit… okay, fine…”

You reluctantly handed Eddie the trapper keeper, the velcro making a harsh rip as he pulled it open to the first page where your lyrics neatly sat waiting for him to peruse. Eddie’s eyebrow raised when he saw the title, “Square Hammer”, outlined in red ink.

“ ‘Square Hammer’? … Huh… I like it, that’s good.” Eddie nodded, and continued to read on.

The lyrics were certainly unique to say the least. It was obvious you’d tried to go with a theme based on the prompt he’d given you: something that oozes the brooding dark metal he envisioned Corroded Coffin would croon to thousands of fans. You certainly had an affinity for the macabre, and he knew he could trust you with everything he wanted in his vision. Then again you could have written the cheesiest, poppy trash in the world and he would have loved it. He was extremely biased, far too sweet on you for his own good. But these weren’t bad at all. The lyrics reminded him of old Hollywood vampire movies, echoing the work of Doctor Faustus with the thematic element in the song. The voice of the lyrics seemed to be coming from an otherworldly entity, one summoned to offer power and prestige to the listener.

And Eddie was obsessed with every word the further he read on.

“Woah, woah…”

His eyes widened with every sentence he read.

“Holy shit…”

Powers clandestine, solving a crooked rhyme… Every line, no matter how simple, packed a lot when combined in the collective.

Eddie finally looked up at you, completely bewildered.

“You wrote this by yourself?!” He croaked.

You were embarrassed to hell, curling in on yourself and looking like you wanted to die.

“Ye… yeah… I… When you asked me to write for you, I got really stuck on what I wanted to do. But I remember you mentioned Black Sabbath was one of your first covers, and then I couldn’t get the image of the coffin out of my head because, you know, “Corroded Coffin”… and then we were reading Faustus in Mrs. O’Donnell’s class and I thought since you asked me to do you this favor and Faustus is all about favors…-“

You were rambling. Not even paying attention to Eddie’s continually growing grin. He was bouncing on the balls of his feet the longer you ranted on, until his untamable outburst silenced you.

“THIS IS AMAZING!” Eddie was screaming, scaring the shit out of everyone. “Holy fuck sweetheart! Are you bullshitting me?! This is… fuck! We’ve been stressing for new material for next month’s gig at The Hideout and you just gave it to us on a silver platter?! Jesus H.!”

“Bwha-?!”

“Check this out…!” Eddie turned away to show his friends while you quietly protested, unable to speak as he passed the paper around. The guys crowded around, each one shouting out when they saw a favorite part, “hammering the nails into the sacred coffin” quickly became a favorite, because they immediately began trying to work out how they could fit the lyrics to sound.

“All we gotta do is work out a melody and we’re in business baby!” Eddie said. “This is bitchin’!”

“But it doesn’t even make any sense!” You argued. “Like seriously? The entrance to the shrine part does not fucking fit, I only wrote it because I couldn’t come up with a better rhyme with clandestine!”

“Who cares?” Eddie cried. “It’s badass as hell! The imagery is absolutely savage… ‘Hiding from the night, sacrificing nothing’, and don’t let me forget about the little tongue in cheek line you added about hammering nails into a sacred coffin!”

“It’s fucking great!” Echoed Jeff.

“You should be proud. You managed to take our style and give it a unique spin, that’s not something anyone can do.” Eddie praised. “God dammit… I’d have been a millionaire by now if I could write like this.”

“You… you really liked those parts?” You asked cautiously.

“Of course I did sweetheart! This is real metal shit right here. And the part with the ‘crooked rhyme’? That really captured the creep factor I was looking for. Shit… what’s more metal than summoning a demon for a deal? That’s exactly what Corroded Coffin needs in its material. I love this little brain of yours!”

“Don’t forget Ed!” Dougie cut in. “ ‘Are you ready to swear right here right now before the devil’?!”

“Bitchin’! Keep this up, and I’m gonna wanna make you write all of Corroded Coffin’s songs from now on!” Eddie beamed happily.

“We gotta get the melody worked out!” Jeff said, “Any ideas? I could come up with a few…”

The boys began gabbing together, Eddie unable to help himself as he began to strum his precious 1984 BC Warlock, his black beauty. Without a doubt he could already envision how he could make his baby purr for you, impress you, take you out finally.

And then you changed his world forever.

“… I had an idea for a melody already…” you said quietly.

All eyes turned to you. The guys were thunderstruck.

“Seriously?! Lyrics and a melody?! You’re spoiling the shit out of me sweetheart! Jeff, let her borrow your…-“

“No… no I… I don’t know how to play guitar…” you said, cutting off Eddie sheepishly, “But I… I brought my Casio with me…”

“Where is it?!”

“In the trunk of my bug…”

“Well go get it! Show me whatcha got sweetheart!”

Eddie followed you to the front of the Volkswagen. Everyone always thought the front trunk was the coolest shit ever and he was no exception. The cool car only added to the many things he liked about you. You took out the obnoxiously large keyboard and the stand, fumbling to close the trunk until Eddie stepped in with an “easy… I got it”, slamming the trunk shut and helping you lift the Casio like a gentleman. You were shaking, vibrating with embarrassment so hard that Eddie had to help you plug everything in and adjust the sound, hovering and reaching over you on purpose hoping you’d notice and feel his burn for you.

“Alright sweetheart? Show us what you’ve got.”

You turned on the Casio and fingered the keys gently, warming up with a few chords as you tried to soothe the shaking in your fingers. Fiddling with the settings, you stalled as long as you could while the boys waited patiently. Once you found the setting you wanted, you went for it.

It was like a demon had possessed your body. The melody was quick, but it packed a hell of a punch. It was in the key of D minor, and you had ironically chosen what sounded like a combination of 1960’s psychedelic sticky rhodes and Transylvanian organ to achieve the effect you wanted. The sound overall was eerie, yet enchantingly fun all at the same time. And your singing! You were singing softly under your breath, rocking yourself to the melody on the tips of your worn out sneakers, and you had quite the set of pipes! Despite your shot nerves, you’d clearly come up with something truly special that no one else in the entire world could have conceived of.

It wasn’t the traditional metal Eddie had in mind, more avant-garde, theatrical even. Whereas he had expected a sound more like Black Sabbath, you played something not out of place at a theater performance of Dracula. But this sound… there was something that nagged him about it. It was a sound that Eddie could imagine playing to arenas of screaming, adoring fans.

“Gentlemen… that’s our fucking song!” Eddie cried, “That’s our song, it’s a goddamned masterpiece!”

The Casio halted, and your mouth was hanging open mid play.

“What?! How-…” you began.

“I can already hear the riff, Ed what do you think of following with standard tuning instead of going to D minor?” Jeff picked up his Gibson and began to play, mimicking what he heard on your Casio by ear. “If you move it, the sound is way off from what I’m envisioning. But if you keep it at standard you leave it easier on the fingers with the couple of open notes when you start stretching.”

“Yeah, yeah! If you tune it down it’s going to sound off with her playing when you hit the chords.” Eddie agreed, immediately looking back at you. “Play it one more time sweetheart?”

You cautiously complied, going through the melody one more time as Jeff began to follow with you. Eddie was completely absorbed in your music, listening to both you and Jeff play and following along quietly. The warlock in his hands eventually couldn’t be helped, humming to life when he started playing a chord at a time by ear. As he played, he kept you repeating the melody over and over, both Eddie and Jeff deep in concentration on the sound. It was getting almost exhausting trying to continually repeat the sound until they got it right.

“D minor.” Eddie said, playing a note.

“Then she does B flat there.” Jeff played.

“A minor.” They said in unison.

“C. And that’s what I’m thinking your rhythm guitar can do, meanwhile, I’ll keep the root of the chords for the riff so I can follow her keys.” Eddie said, and he began to perfectly copy your melody. “Okay sweetheart, just one more time… and then let’s bring everything together.”

[sotwk]

1st Day of Yule: “A Partridge in a Pear Tree”

Crown Prince Thranduil & Princess Maereth

Second Age 3430 

Bar Lasgalen, Palace of the Crown Prince

In all his three and a half thousand years of existence, Thranduil was certain he had never before held anything so precious, so desperately in need of his protection, even while the tiny fist that clutched his forefinger already boasted of a strength that made his heart swell with wonder and pride. 

He tugged the swaddling clothes up higher to sufficiently cover the newborn’s head, before stepping out into the balcony and the cold winter's night. He held the babe aloft for a moment, so that the legion of stars might meet and kiss his face with their light before fading into the dawn. 

But something else, something less expected, greeted them in the morning twilight. From far off, unseen voices carried faintly across the sprawling, snow-covered palace grounds, singing in chorus a sweet hymn so old, as ancient as Eryn Galen’s trees, that even he could not understand all the words of the Nandorin blessing.

“Our people welcome you, ion nin.” Thranduil chuckled at the gurgle he received in response. Such keen curiosity shone in those wandering little eyes, that already sought to take in the wide world he had just entered!

Tonight they were given privacy and peace. Tomorrow, well-wishers will descend upon Bar Lasgalen and the great feasting will start. King Oropher had already declared and made arrangements for a kingdom-wide celebration in honor of his new grandchild. The heir to his heir, the future of his house, the scion of his line. It pleased Thranduil that his father had finally set aside his grievances concerning lineage and did not let it mar his excitement over the newborn prince. 

Yet a persistent cloud cast a shadow of unease over Thranduil's boundless joy. His knowledge of the Darkness stirring in the lands beyond their realm weighed on him, more heavily now that he carried a priceless treasure in his arms. The enemy threats they thought they could dismiss as distant and outside of their concerns, suddenly felt too close and too real to him, too unsafe to ignore and leave unquelled.

As father and son retreated back into the warmth of the royal chambers, Thranduil sensed his wife stirring behind the sheer curtains of their canopied bed, waking from her much-needed rest. 

“Can I bring you anything, Endanya? Are you hungry? Shall I send for food?” He did not doubt his wife’s great strength, but she had yet to properly eat after her long labor, and in the days leading up to the birth she would consume only the golden pears she craved, a rare fruit that grew in the valley of Imladris where she had previously lived. Elrond himself had sent baskets of it across the mountain to Eryn Galen, making time for this gesture of care even in the midst of a rising crisis. However well-intentioned, this kindness added to Thranduil's burden of obligation to their old friend.

“No, my love.” Maereth smiled and reached out with a hand that Thranduil immediately took inside his own. “I have everything I need right here.”

“I never imagined I could love anyone anywhere close to how much I love you,” Thranduil shifted his gaze from her lovely face to that of the infant that had now fallen back asleep, content in the curve of his arm. “But this one has firmly taken his place second in line.”

He knelt at his Queen's bedside to bring their son closer to her. Maereth brushed her hand lightly over the baby's head of fine hair, silver as the starlight, just like his. 

“I will do everything in my power to protect you both,” the prince said suddenly. “To the last breath in my body, I will do what I must. I will not let any danger or evil come near either of you.”

He knew she understood his meaning, and that she believed him; she always did. But she squeezed his hand and leaned over to kiss his forehead. 

“Leave those vows for the morrow, Melmenya,” she whispered. “For now, let us keep our thoughts on the gift we have been given. On Mirion.”

“Our Mirion,” Thranduil agreed, carefully returning the sleeping child to his mother's bosom. “Finally, a jewel I could agree is worth marching to war for.”

Yuletide Series MASTERLIST

Yule Event Tag List: @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @achromaticerebus @aduialel @asianbutnotjapanese @auttumnsayshi @blueberryrock @conversacomsmaug @elan-ho-detto-elan-15 @entishramblings @freshalmondpandadonut @fizzyxcustard @friendofthefellowshipsnerdblog @glassgulls @heilith @heranintomyknife23times @ladyweaslette @laneynoir @lathalea @lemonivall @LiliDurin @quickslvxrr @ratsys @spacecluster @scyllas-revenge @stormchaser819 @talkdifferently6 @tamryniel @tamurilofrivendell @acornsandoaktrees @warriormirkwood @emmanuellececchi

[blissfulip]

—Legion

On AO3

Priest!Viktor x F!demon!reader

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Priest Kink, Blasphemy, Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Self-Flagellation, Demon Sex, Demon Summoning, Demon/Human Relationships, demon reader, AU - Canon Divergence, Post medieval era, Dubious Science, Church Sex, Roman Catholicism, Catholic Guilt, Improper Use of Catholic Rituals, Shameless Smut, Masturbation, No use of Y/N, third person.

Cw: -

Words: 2.1k

[A/N: I'm alive, alas. Slowly getting back into writing, so bear with me as this one is a bit clunky. (let me know if you want to be tagged or removed in future fic updates!)]

Tags: @ihopeinevergetsoberr @chemical-killjoy @jinxed-jk @bobobomao @queen-of-elves @thedustybunny @syren201 @thayfass @thehistoriangirl @hypocritic-trash-baby @zaunitearchives

Previous Next

IV. 

The unadorned walls were bare , save for a few peeling patches of paint, and the hanging crucifix was now slightly askew, the squashing emptiness swallowing him as the corners of the room seemed to stretch into infinity. The moonlight shifted, casting a new set of shadows that seemed to twist and writhe like the memories of her that haunted him, and in the quiet of the night, dawn approaching, he drifted asleep, his dreams hollow, bereft, and yearning for something that was no longer. 

The pale gray hue of the morning filtered through Viktor’s eyelashes, painfully morphing into colorful blobs of light inside his eyelids. He lay still, dreading the image of his enclosure in fear of what he might see. When he shifted slightly on the mattress, fully expecting that—now familiar—stinging pain, it was the absence of it that startled him into opening his eyes.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat there, head in his hands, trying to piece together the fragments of his shattered memories of the previous night. The crucifix on the wall was as perfectly symmetrical as it had been. His clothes from the previous day lay neatly folded, not discarded in a moment of despair but meticulously placed. 

Viktor forced himself to stand, each movement sluggish and weighed down by the heaviness in his chest. He wandered to the window, looking out at the city below. The world outside continued to move, indifferent to his confusion. He turned back to the room, and the vertical rays of sunlight reflected over the wooden door were a cruel mirror of the oppressive feeling inside him.

"It was just a dream. Heavens above, a nightmare rather," he whispered to himself, desperate to cling to that hope. 

He sank to the floor, his back against the wall and his good knee drawn up to his chest. He closed his eyes and tried to remember her voice, her touch, and the way she spoke to him. But the images were already starting to blur into oneiric shards of memory, delusory scenes that he had made up to cope with whatever bizarre day he had experienced. He had open arms to accept this as fact, but then he looked askance for what should have been less than a second—a hand’s distance away from him, on the floor—and something reflected a small flicker of light in his direction. 

A frail little piece of copper, with a symbol etched on it, was no stranger to him. 

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

The coin was left there, untouched, and Viktor quickly stood up, got dressed, and made his way to the chapel with the intention of seeking confession. Ignoring something has never been proven to make it disappear, but he believed in so many things that had no proof. What's one more day to a life sentence? As he approached the vestry, he heard voices—a gruff, authoritative one and another, softer and more submissive.

Pushing open the door quietly, Viktor saw Father Isidore standing on a small platform, his arms outstretched as a tiny, stooped old man adjusted the fit of a new set of robes. 

"Careful, you fool," Father Isidore snapped, glaring down at the old man who fumbled with the hem. 

The old man mumbled an apology, his hands trembling as he continued his work. Father Isidore's mitre rose high, a stately crown of pristine white, adorned with intricate gold embroidery that glinted with each subtle movement. The patterns weaved a tapestry of reverence and power, a fitting halo for one chosen to serve the divine, at the cost of what could probably feed a family for an entire year. Below, his chasuble cascaded in folds of rich golden yellow, a hue that caught the light and transformed it into a soft glow. This garment, heavy with the weight of the vows of poverty they had both made, bore elaborate designs that told false stories of faith and sanctity. 

The bitter taste of resentment came back to Viktor’s throat. He had come here to confess his own misgivings, but now he was confronted with a deeper, more troubling disquiet. And as acrimony poisoned his heart once more, he felt a small, cold hand resting on his shoulder. His skin prickled, and a cold sweat began to form on his brow. He felt her presence—an unnerving familiarity that made his heart pound in his chest. The air around him seemed to grow colder, the light dimmer. He tried to shake off the feeling, attributing it to his own inner turmoil, but it clung to him, persistent and insidious.

A whisper, soft yet piercing, curled into his ear like a serpent. 

“What a despotic panoply of gold and moral deviance—so much for humility and sacrifice,” her voice whispered in his ear. "I, too, would feel betrayed.” 

Viktor’s eyes darted to his left and right, noting the people before him. He couldn't afford to alarm them; he couldn't let them see his fear. His heart pounded in his chest as he forced himself to remain still. A bead of sweat trickled down Viktor’s temple. He swallowed hard, his mind racing. He knew she sought to unnerve him and break his spirit. Summoning every ounce of his will, he started to pray in his mind, each word a lifeline in the gathering darkness.

“ Júdica Dómine nocéntes me; expúgna impugnántes me. Confundántur et revereántur… ” he started, pulling the string of words from a distant memory. 

“Haven’t we established that your god does not listen to your prayers, Viktor?”

Her voice rang loud and clear to him, but the unmoving expressions of the two men before him made it apparent that they could not hear her. “. ..quaeréntes ánimam meam. Avertántur retrórsum et confundántur, cogitántes míhi mála.” He continued, now fearing he had gone insane.

“Never you mind, my sweet. I’ll be gone again soon, but first, I thought you should know the delightsome old lady you lied for yesterday has been excommunicated for ‘transferring her tithe to another person’” 

She stayed long enough to delight in the sudden indignation Viktor felt, gently brushing her hand over the rosary he had tightened his grip around before melting into thin air from where she came from quickly, as there was no one when he turned back to express his anger. His breath came in shallow, controlled measures, and the men were unaware of the silent battle that had taken place but now aware of Viktor’s presence as he stepped inside the room completely. 

“Viktor, come in, come in, feeling refreshed this morning?” He said, clearly an excoriation made to mock Viktor’s clearly tired presence. 

The anger Viktor had been holding in check surged to the surface. "Is it true?" he demanded, his voice trembling with suppressed emotion. "Did you excommunicate her?"

Father Isidore did not seem grieved by his accusation; if anything, he stood dignified in his decision. 

“It’s certainly interesting that you feel wronged by it, considering it was your fraudulent lies that caused this.”

“My— “ Viktor had to stop himself from saying anything more, and he left the room hurriedly before his resolve to stay quiet betrayed him. 

This was it—the drop that contained the sea. 

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

As he walked back to his quarters, his thoughts drifted back to the market, where he had often seen the old woman. Her face, lined with age and hardship, right next to the rubicund face of plump arrogance, seemed frail. She wore a threadbare shawl over her hunched shoulders, and he wore gold tread and rich velvets. Her fingers gnarled and trembled as she sold her meager wares—simple trinkets and worn fabrics. Viktor recalled the way her eyes had sparkled with gratitude when he had offered her a few coins for a trinket he didn’t need, insignificant next to the bishop’s half-a-dozen golden rings and precious jewelled rosary beads. 

The church itself was a monument to grandeur, with its towering spires, stained glass windows, and intricate carvings. It was a place where wealth was displayed in every corner, from the gilded altar to the finely wrought candelabras. Viktor had always taken pride in the beauty of his church, believing it reflected the glory of God. One step outside of it, though, would transport him to the cobblestone roads lined with the destitute, families huddled in the cold, and children with hollow eyes and empty stomachs. 

The market would be bustling with activity, but it was a scene of struggle and survival. People bartered and begged, their faces etched with the desperation of poverty, but their eyes still smiled when they saw him, hopeful that his presence—to them, divine—would at least save their souls. 

His cup was overflowing. 

With a determined stride, Viktor crossed the room and pulled the book from the shelf. He ran his fingers over the cover, feeling a surge of excitement and defiance. The prohibition that had once held him back now seemed an affront to the pursuit of truth and knowledge. The anger within him had crystallized into a clear resolve: if the church could betray its principles, then he no longer felt bound by its restrictions.

Viktor sat at his desk, opening the white-covered book with reverent hands. The pages were filled with meticulous diagrams and elegant prose, and as he began to read, the words seemed to leap off the page, igniting a passion that had been suppressed. The theories and observations weren’t groundbreaking to him, but they challenged the very foundations of the geocentric worldview that the Church so adamantly defended.

The elegant simplicity of the heretic’s heliocentric model resonated so deeply with Viktor, aligning with the sense of order and reason he had always believed in, that it almost brought genuine laughter out of him. He continued with his studies, not quite hiding it anymore but not eager for Father Isidore to find out either. Viktor turned, already sensing her presence before he saw her. She materialized from the shadows, her form unmistakable. Her eyes, burning with a white light, fixed on him with a mixture of curiosity and amusement.

"Hanging up the cassock, are we?” This time, her voice resonated clearly in the room instead of in his head.

There was no fear in Viktor this time; he stood his ground, meeting her gaze with a calm intensity. “No, but I’ve confronted a reality I was blind to.”

She smiled. “Is that gratitude I sense in your voice?” 

It was, but he did not answer. 

“You walk a dangerous path, Viktor; it is casuistic and intellectually dishonest of you to keep pretending you hold the same values as you did before.” 

“Many people have done it before; many have conciliated science and faith.”

“And all of them have been either branded as heretic and excommunicated or executed. Take a guess at where they are now.”

“Purgatory?” He said with a defeated but somehow playfully sarcastic tone. 

“What an extraordinary hoax purgatory is; at least have the guts to commit to the inferno.” She chuckled. 

Viktor had to quickly catch himself before he shared a laugh with her, immediately reverting into a pessimistic tone as he turned back around, away from the good-humored environment. 

“I can’t leave; this community needs me.”

“They do. It is far from me to express antagonism against that.” 

“You are trying to convince me to.”

“No. But you will see that you do not need organized religion to help those people. Eventually you will.”

“Perchance.” He said, Pensive. 

She circled him slowly. "You intrigue me. There is strength in you, a strength that few possess. I will watch your journey with great interest." 

Viktor’s resolve wavered slightly under her gaze. There was an intensity in her eyes that unnerved him, a predatory gleam that spoke of desires beyond his understanding. 

"Watch if you will," he said, his voice steady. "I will not be swayed by you again.”

Her smile widened with a knowing, almost lascivious grin. "So sure of yourself," she purred, her voice dripping with seduction. She stepped closer, the air around her growing colder. “Why are you so ready to defy the dogma when it comes to science but so hesitant when it comes to your own indulgence?”

“It’s selfish,” he answered almost immediately. “Hedonistic.” 

“It would be, if you were seeking pleasure at someone’s expense. The idea that seeking self-gratification is selfish is merely puritan ideology; I trust you are now beyond that, after what I showed you last time.” 

Her fingers trailed down his arm, and Viktor fought to suppress the shiver that followed. He met her gaze, his eyes filled with defiance. 

"I will not yield."

“And I will not make you. You will call for me; you will yearn .”

[demonbanger]

𝙄𝙩 𝙨𝙚𝙚𝙢𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪’𝙫𝙚 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙜𝙤𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙣 𝙬𝙝𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙗𝙚𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙤. 𝙄𝙩’𝙨 𝙖𝙡𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩, 𝙄’𝙡𝙡 𝙧𝙚𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙙 𝙮𝙤𝙪. | 18+

★ ft. sex demon! EUSTASS KID ★

[ click for pt. 1 - don’t fret precious I’m here ]

★ summary: the incubus you summoned this month doesn’t like it when you show interest in other men and makes sure you know it.

🎧 song: Murder Song- Scum of the Earth | Entombed - Deftones

★ pairing: incubus! Eustass x fem! Reader

★ cw: possessive jealous bully Eustass, service dom disguised as brat tamer, aftercare, somno mention

★ taglist: @quinloki @slut4animedilfs @mrpoople @archangel1206 @downforsanji @nikos-a-clown @goshitshardtohaveagoodname @pinkcrystal-rose @detoniara @domainofmarie (if the tag didn’t work sorry bb)

___________________________________

Having a sex demon take your life energy was really not as bad as the Internet forums said.

Maybe it was because Eustass fucked you so well and made you cream around his cock so much every night, that you slept like a baby and you didn’t notice anything more than that.

You welcomed the change…you had bouts of insomnia anyways before meeting him. And as long as you ate plenty, drank enough water, and had caffeine near your bed, waking up the next day felt like the usual brain fog you always had. You’d have a sleepy smile on your face as you’d walk funny to go pee in the morning and look down to see your skin littered in his bite marks. And knowing you left him with the same markings.

One thing you started to notice was you never woke up a real mess despite how rough the nights were.

Sometimes you woke up with a load inside you since you’d pass out and Eustass would still have his way with your body (you consented to being his toy for him to freely use), but somehow you were still…taken care of in a subtle way.

Your room wouldn’t be in too much disarray even when you swore he tore your clothes off and threw them across the room in the crazy, lust-fueled night before.

Or you could’ve sworn you passed out butt naked on top of the sheets, but somehow you woke up underneath them.

After a week, you’d wake up from your slumber with a can of Monster energy (probably stolen from a gas station) on your desk.

It was almost as if Eustass wanted to help you, even when he had to go back to hell. The way he used you, called you a whore as he grunted in your ear and bounced you on his cock, manhandled you like you were nothing but a rag doll, not really cuddle with you after…all seemed like he would be heartless and uncaring. But past the rough exterior he seemed like he had a slight bit of decency,, and that made you really mean it when you’d call him Daddy, or obediently listen to his commands, or agree “yes Eustass! I’m your pet! Your Fucking doll! Fuck yes right there, nghhh—”

It kind of sucked when he stopped coming. You figured captains of hell’s legions were probably busy creatures, so you’d patiently wait, or just try and get yourself off whenever summoning him didn’t work.

But those days turned into weeks, you realized…it was torture. Trying to get yourself to cum was just never the same, and it was so maddening being back to the feeling that made you summon him in the first place: your fingers never spreading you out the same, lacking the rough skin texture of his fingers that rubbed against your clit so well, dildos not even comparing to his tentacle-like tongue that ate you out like no tomorrow, or thrusting into you so perfectly like his gorgeous cock that molded you to his size.

Eustass was right. He fucking ruined you. He ruined toys for you. His mocking laugh of how he even probably ruined other men’s dicks for you would echo in your ear as each day went on. It pissed you off because now, you weren’t a desperate horny bastard like before you met him—you were worse because that demon showed you heaven by giving your pussy hell.

And by raising your damn standards to the fucking moon.

And he didn’t even say goodbye or if he’d come back. He just left you wondering if he had his fill of you and got bored of his pet, if you sucked his giant cock well enough (well you genuinely couldn’t fit that much of it and you swore his amber eyes would roll back with you jerking off the rest of him), or what you could do to reach him better.

After three weeks. Three, fucking, weeks. You decided you were sick and tired of waiting or guessing. Clearly his absence was an answer that spoke for itself.

~~~~

One more failed orgasm, and you’re downloading a hookup app even though you swore off them because you had a few rotten relationships that came from dating apps. But this is different! Right? You’re just hooking up with a guy! Nothing special!

You create a profile and get dolled up in something other than the punk, red, black, lace, latex-type ensembles you’d wear for Kid. Because you’re not dressing for him anymore. You’re not a demon’s bitch.

Within an hour, you receive a notification. It’s a pretty, brunette boy who’s rather polite to you. Asks you questions to get to know you but not in a creepy way, finds out you’re here to fuck, but still says respectful.

You both exchange a few pictures, and he is very pretty. Just got out the shower, he shows you a picture of his pretty, tanned body all damp with curls dripping. You want to know what’s under that damn towel that’s hugging his hips so well.

You express that you’re bored tonight, don’t go out much, and he answers:

“Well, if you’d like, I’d love to satisfy you. Just let me know where you feel safest. I can even bring you food.”

The fact that he offers to take care of you or at least bring you food is something else…you reply:

“If you can FaceTime, for obvious reasons, it’s a done deal.”

And FaceTime he does. His voice is charming. And it sounds especially charming as he moans in your bed, thrusting sensually inside and out. Rocking your bed back and forth.

He’s a really good kisser, too. Holding your face in his warm hands, looking into your eyes with pretty hazel eyes that sparkle.

You think, if you have to settle for a human and put all this demon shit behind you, he would be a great option. At least as a fuckbuddy.

He’s great with aftercare. Great at learning which spots make you wetter, makes you blush from praise, is great at fucking you in doggy.

But he’s missing something. He’s not Eustass. You feel terrible for pushing an entire demonic entity as a standard for a guy who’s just a human, who’s a really good guy and probably an amazing boyfriend too. Fuck. Stop thinking about that demon, he probably won’t come back ever. He probably forgot who you are. You get annoyed with yourself for even letting him occupy parts of your mind and use that as even more of an excuse to enjoy your time with this man. This man, with the way he holds your hands above your head in missionary, the way he brings a hot wet towel to clean you, the way he tells you you did so well, cuddles you with the smell of his intoxicating cologne.

You try to fight off the sinking feeling that there’s still some part of you that’s frustrated. Maybe you can train this man to degrade you, be rougher with you. You know he wishes he could stay the night with his puppy dog eyes but it’s just a hookup, so he courteously goes back home when it gets too late. He tells you goodbye with a wink.

“Call me anytime,” Gabe says, and you smile as you close the door. This is going to be your life. Not too bad, because apparently there are good men out there. Why are you such a brat who can’t be satisfied?

You decide to go to bed early. Maybe it’s for your good that you don’t stay up as long as Eustass would keep you. And that you don’t wake up so sore, wincing when you walk.

————— meanwhile in hell…———————————

He couldn’t help but think about you, but you were getting distracting from his work and consuming his mind which was supposed to be focused on commanding hell’s army.

Your sweet, delicious smell. The way you’d tell him you’re his in that sweet little human voice, muffled by the covers. The way he’d have to peel your hands away from your face so he could taste your tears and eat up your pretty moans. How your hands felt so soft, so pretty as they’d scratch him bleeding.

Any time he’d train to be stronger, your voice begging him to go “Harder, Eu, faster, please” would send blood down there instantly.

He watched your marks on his pale skin fade with time, hoping the torturous memory of your pretty self keeping his cock warm would also fade. But it seemed like any time he’d close his damn eyes, your face was there to greet him. It made him feel…weird. And he didn’t like it. It felt like a lost feeling he may have had before, hundreds of years ago. But he didn’t want to think about it or unlock a whole new Pandora’s box of this thing called…feelings. Because they were starting to claw at him like your little nails, and the danger he sensed was a deeper, darker danger than any enemy he’d faced when commanding the legions of demons to fight the spiritual war.

Somehow you, a human so small compared to him, were more dangerous than any creature that existed in the entire goddamn universe, and you weren’t even trying to be.

He felt like one of your exes stalking you on social media, when he’d peek into your life every now and again to make sure you weren’t getting yourself hurt. To make sure his little pet wasn’t making some dumb decision.

Because you’re a stupid human, one who he couldn’t help but feel belonged to him.

You seemed to be getting along just fine, which annoyed him as much as he knew should’ve relieved him. You stopped calling for him. And he watched as one night when he casually stalked checked in on you, you started calling out another man’s name, a man who carried the name of an angel. That’s when he got pissed. Betrayed. But he did nothing, even when he wanted to rip that guy’s head right off his skinny little neck. It was for his own good that he kept out of the affairs of humans, even you.

His stomach sank, while also burning hotter than hell, when you came around that man’s cock. “Are you really gonna let that man take your human like that?” his vice-admiral Killer asked, and it made something in him tick. So when he heard your call a few earth days later, naturally he had to take back what was his. Because what demon would he be if he wasn’t selfish, self-serving, taking what’s his that shouldn’t be his, and indulging in a human lady?

————————————————————————

You had given up on touching yourself because what was the fucking point. Thus all this sexual energy got so pent up; despite your best efforts, your bad habit of thinking about a dumb demon got worse than ever. So here you are right now, sitting on your bed, wearing something sexy, hoping he could hear you and smell your wetness. Trying to call him one last time couldn’t hurt, right?

You wait, patiently, thinking of his presence, his voice, his scent. Nothing happens. No chill up your back, no glowing sigil. You try and fight the sinking feeling in your abdomen. You should’ve known better. Maybe you’ll just…snuff your candles and stop playing with hell.

Just as you think maybe he’ll never come back and you might as well give up, you hear a gruff throat clear and open your eyes.

“You called?”

You want so badly to be mad, so badly to be mean, to not bat an eye at him, but he looks extra delicious today. He’s dressed in all black and silver, matching the ensemble you’re wearing. He’s got leather and metal spikes adorning his features, but his delicious torso is bare as usual. He’s eyeing you hungrily, possessively, and you realize despite your stupor that you need to give him a little bit of grief.

“Yeah, I called, only about 20 times,” you snap. He isn’t very surprised at your sass. He knew you’d say something bratty, but he doesn’t apologize or anything. He doesn’t say he misses you. He in fact, opens your lingerie drawer and picks up your colorful pieces, and has the gall and the gumption to be almost accusatory towards you.

“What the fuck are these.” Eustass stares blankly, and it’s kind of hilarious because you never told him you got lingerie that didn’t suit his vibe, so that must mean one thing: he checked up on you.

“It’s lingerie, never seen it before?” What an idiot. Your idiot. You hide a chuckle of realization behind a veil of faux snark. He scoffs.

“They don’t know the real you like I do. The absolute freaky kitten you are, and quite frankly I’m glad you don’t show them that side of you. Because only I can bring that out,” like a cat pushing a glass off the countertop after his possessive monologue, the big redhead tosses the garments in your trash bin, just like he did to your sex toys that one night, and you gasp incredulously.

He continues to zero in on you, his heat and familiar smell immediately causing wetness to trickle between your legs. You hate how quickly he does what he does to you. Before you could think, his lips are on yours, feverishly kissing you, consuming you. And even crazier than that, you’re letting him. He’s crawling on top of you on the bed, surprisingly keeping both of your guy’s clothes on, prying apart your legs to make his home there. Right where he belongs.

His tongue explores your mouth like it’s searching for something, and he snarls possessively, hands carding over your hair and petting your soft skin. Oh he wants-wants you.

You almost get that feeling of not being wanted right out of your head. He’s erasing it in seconds, pinning you to the bed like this, kissing down your neck, biting a bit harder than usual, biting wet hickies all over your breasts.

Right when you instinctively buck your hips up to meet his—

“Ah-ah-ah. Not so fast,” he clicks his large tongue. “I can bet you even let that guy fuck you raw and probably even cum inside you. Have you forgotten who you belong to?”

His knee jams between your thighs when you wait a second too long to answer, and hits your sweet spot. You bite your lip and try to stay composed.

“T-three weeks, Eustass, not a single word or anything. I thought you were done with me.”

He snarls into your ear, knee pressing into your clit harder, almost insulted. “Really? You thought I’d be done with you? What a stupid, fucking idea, Y/n, did I fucking stutter when I said this pussy is all mine?”

You squirm away from him, but his hand rubs you harshly though your thin bodysuit, eliciting a pathetic whimper from your throat. “No, but—”

“Then I don’t want to fucking hear it,” Eustass’ fingers dip under the layer of fabric, pushing it to the side, and plunge deeply into your throbbing wet core, clenching his jaw at how your soft, warm walls grip him just right. He’s effective in shutting you up and reducing you to whines as his thumb traces over your soaked, puffy clit.

“You only get this wet for me, right?” You try to maintain eye contact as he curls into that spot inside you, and can only nod your head, gaze averting from his smug amber eyes.

“You know, I’m not done with you until I say I’m done, so I don’t get why you’d go around giving my pussy out to other guys when I told you what would happen.” His eyes smirk at how you clench at his possessive words. You note how he’s trying to sound tough and mean, but there’s a softer tone than usual. He’s butthurt, and might actually be sorry. His next words are extremely serious however.

“So you’re going to pick your punishment doll. Either I kill that motherfucker for stealing you away from me and you watch,” (your heart does backflips because it was more like Eustass being in your thoughts stealing your attention away from the man), “ or, or, you take the fall for Mr. Perfect and I keep going no matter how much you beg and cry, hmm?” You know the obvious answer. Eustass was threatening you with a good time and reclaiming you as his when you never stopped being his. No matter how much you tried.

He’s out of patience, not like he ever has any.

“Well?” He removes his fingers and slaps your clit harshly, the yummy stretch replaced with a harsh sting.

You snap out of your pleasured trance with a moan.

“S-second one, Eustass, use me up, please,” you cry, the way you say his name with your pretty pouty lips making his dick twitch. He fights back a smirk at how easy it is to make you beg.

“You better cut that dipshit out of your life then, because you’re my fucking plaything, and I don’t share with anybody, got it?”

And right when you nod, he’s pulling your bodysuit off and keeping his clothes on. His fingers are back inside you, and the redhead’s smeared painted lips are suctioning on your clit, not even giving you a single second.

“Oh, fuck,” you groan, but can’t move your hips because he’s holding you down with his big, heavy weight so you’re forced to take it 100%.

“Dumb, desperate kitty. I know you can’t get enough of my cock or last even a few weeks when I’m on a voyage in hell. That right, ya spoiled brat?” he’s rumbling before he goes back to tongue-fucking your hot walls, smearing your juices around your clit and spitting on your pussy to add to the mix.

You can do nothing but whimper, “mhm,” as he makes himself more mad.

“Was there anything special about him?” He fucks you on his hand, relishing in how you’re absolutely dripping with arousal and sucking his thick fingers inside you. A familiar heat begins to rise in your core as pleading tears fill your eyes.

You can’t think of an answer and open your mouth, but only whimpers come out; when he adds another finger your brain melts. It already feels like the girth of a cock, except curling to hit the g-spot that makes you yank on the feral male’s fluffy red hair.

“You were so fast to try and replace me,” he growls, and your thighs tremble over his shoulders.

“Tell me this,” he rubs your clit in perfect circles impossibly quick, making you buck into his hand greedily. You feel your high approaching, and you begin to convulse around him, and he nibbles on your inner thigh and holds you down again, effectively pinning you into the mattress.

“You’re not getting away, pretty,” he snarls, admiring how much he affects you as he keeps pumping his fingers in, “tell me—were you successful at replacing me with a little boytoy?”

Your breaths are heaving, you’re sobbing at how good he’s making you feel. “N-no! I wasn’t!” He laps at your clit and suckles on it like you’re his last meal before an execution.

As spots dot your vision, you scream, “only you can make me feel this g—oh!!!” Your back arches into his face as you come undone underneath his ministrations, and his cock is so hard it hurts as you splash his face.

He groans as he continues to finger-fuck you and lap up all you have to offer, his little taste of heaven.

Your body feels like the epitome of standing up too fast, except it’s lasting. But he’s not done. He takes out his fingers, sucks on them, and goes back down, dipping his long tongue inside you.

“I’m still pretty fucking mad that my princess thinks she can call up whoever she wants. You’ll help make me feel all better again,” he remarks, tongue dipping back in. It’s too much, your violent orgasm still has you reeling, and his tongue inside sets your nerves ablaze.

You suck in his tongue so nicely, and he massages your walls with the muscle and prods at the spot that makes your toes curl.

“Oh fuck! Eustass! G-gonna…gonna…” new tears fall down your face as you beg him with your eyes. He chuckles against you, the vibrations making you spasm until you find your release once again. He moans into your plush pussy at how wet you are and how you feel squeezing his tongue. The smell of you, the taste of your arousal, has him drunk and wanting more. So does he stop to give you a break? He absolutely does not. He smooshes kisses against your sloppy pussy—his favorite and only pussy—and scissors his fingers inside you again. Now this is really too much. You plead with him to slow down, to stop, to give you a minute.

“Remember, baby, you decided to get punished by me,” he carefully scrapes his sharp teeth against your clit and you squeal, grabbing his horns, “and I’m a wicked, awful, bad guy. I’m selfish. I’m rotten. I’m Eustass the Fucking Merciless.” He bites your thigh and breaks some skin at the same time as he rubs your clit that hurts. It hurts, because you’re way overstimulated out of your mind. His thrusting fingers are too much, you’re trying to push him away, but he’s too heavy. Too strong. Too big.

“Be a good girl and give up,” you hear him rasp, his pace unrelenting, and with sobbing pleas, he makes you cum again. And again. You’re basically numb at this point, throat dry from screaming, brain dead and unable to say anything that makes sense. Absolutely wrecked from pleasure.

“There, there,” he slaps your clit cruelly, and your whole body shakes. He’s still fully clothed and everything, and you feel it and are reminded of the power he has to reduce you to a pitiful whining puddle as he goes up to kiss you. You surrender immediately, pliable, weak. His tongue captures yours in a kiss and you tiredly feel down his warm, muscular body. You smell your heady scent and taste your arousal on him. All of your juices and devouring you has taken off his lipstick. His entire face is soaked in you. Because Eustass eats you like he fucking means it.

He eats all of your whimpers, and eventually you begin to kiss back a bit more, and he deeply laughs into the kiss, entire chest vibrating against your torso. “Little kitten,” he squeezes your cheeks, and kisses your scrunched, pouty lips. “Hope you’re ready to get fucked for real this time.”

You don’t even feel like you’re thinking while you’re getting the words out.

“M’your kitten,” you pout at him with glassy eyes that make him crumble, “need you inside me, please,” you punctuate with a tug on his clothing, and he gets up, wasting no time. He’s so pretty and tall as he takes off his outerwear, unbuckles his belts, takes off his pants. He climbs back on top of you in no time, panting through his mouth, amber eyes hooded in desire. Eustass Kid is weak in the knees for you, and he’s admitting it all over. He pumps his cock, squeezing the head and gathering his own slick on his fingers. He brings them to your lips, and you suck on them, tasting his sweet musk.

He’s so goddamn gorgeous, smiling down at how well you suck his fingers. He may have a smug expression on his face, but his eyes sparkle with something a bit more.

You spread your legs a little bit wider to give him room to slot his thick hips between you thighs. His thick head rubs against your still sensitive pussy, and he sinks in to the hilt in one thrust. Nothing could prepare you enough for how big of a cock he has, not even a regular sized man’s cock plus a couple of fingers. You blink back more tears you didn’t know you had, and he’s giving you no mercy as he thrusts into you again and again, with no regards to your crying.

“Gonna wreck you so. fucking. good,” he says through clenched teeth, holding your knees to your chest, as he reaches you so deep, you feel his tip kissing your cervix.

“Eu’! Slow down! Please! Please! Please! Please!” You whimper in time with his thrusts.

“You’re telling me to slow down, and begging me to keep fucking you. Which is it? Don’t got a lot going on up there, do ya?” he chides as he continues to slam into you, balls slapping you as you get wetter from his bullying.

“So mean, Eustass,” you whimper, creaming around his cock, as he brings a hand up to your throat. Your eyes roll up and tongue sticks slightly out. He groans at how well you’re taking him.

“And you like it, don’t you?” He glances at your jiggling tits and back up at your fucked-out expression. You are absolutely ruined already, and his cock hasn’t even been in you for that long.

You nod, a hand squeezing his forearm and he clenches just a little bit harder. You gasp for air and are even more turned on, and he lets go to watch you take in a sharp breath and moan it out.

“Yeah, I know you like it, I know you like getting wrecked, and that’s why you’re perfect fr’me, y’know that?”

“Y-yeah, I do!“

His voice suddenly softens, and it catches you off guard, but he’s still fucking you with the same force.

“No one can fuck you as hard as I can, right baby?”

His eyes..they hold almost a sadness? You grab the hand that was near your throat and turn and kiss it, which makes his heart flutter in his chest, but he’ll never admit it.

“N-no one can, daddy, ‘s’only you! I’m sorry daddy,” your brain is turned to mush and he sees it in your mindless eyes, and he groans and pins you down into a mating press, his heavy weight just about crushing you.

“Yeah, that’s what I’m talking about,” he groans, and bites and kisses your neck. Your limbs squeeze around him to hold him as close and as deep inside you as possible.

“Want your cum in me, Eustass, please!” You sob in his ear. “Fill me up, I’m only yours! I’m sorry I got so lonely without you.”

He moans as he kisses your neck, still thrusting into you deeply and quickly. You decide to keep going, lost in lust and wanting him inside you forever.

“Need you, please don’t leave me, m’ your fuckdoll,” you moan, and his eyes snap to yours. His pupils are blown so wide.

“Shut the fuck up,” he growls, and he kisses you, wraps an arm around you, and rolls you both over so he’s fucking up into you and holding you close on top of his chest. Your moans are drowned in his kiss, and you feel so safe, so amazing in his warm embrace. His long, massive arms cover just about your entire torso. Your hands hug around his head, and he’s barreling into you sloppily, frantically, like a wild beast in a desperate rut.

“As if I’d ever leave you,” he mutters lowly, and his last thrusts are slow, before you feel hot white gushing inside, coating your insides. You both moan, and kiss, and he slows down to a halt for a few moments.

His heart hammers in his chest as he looks up at you, and you blush.

“What?” You ask, flustered.

“Fucking brat. I only left because ‘m falling for your dumb ass.”

“Huh?”

“Nothing. Turn around,” he sneers.

“But—!”

He manhandles you, pulling out and relishing in the way your juices dribble out of your pussy. He sits up and turns you around with his strong hands.

“Sink back down. Now.” You do as you’re told. He’s still fucking hard.

“Good fucking girl, now stay still like a little doll,” he lays you both back down, and grips the bottom of your thighs and lifts them until your knees are to your chest. He hooks his arms around your legs and holds your head so you’re in a full Nelson. You squeeze into his thick arms for support.

“Look how well you grip my cock,” he groans as he thrusts deeply into you, your pussy gripping him on the way out.

“Oh fuck,” You moan at the sight.

“It’s so clear you don’t want me to leave, even your pussy doesn’t want to let go. So I guess I’m stuck with you,” Eustass rumbles over the sound of skin slapping and slick spreading as if that’s the most reasonable conclusion..which it is.

“I’m made for you, no one else makes me feel so good, so full,” you whine, boosting his ego as he slowly hits your sweet spot.

“Yeah? You mean it and not just lying to me?” He grunts, glad you’re unable to see how much he’s hoping you’re telling the truth.

“You ruined me, can’t enjoy it if it’s not you, need you, only you Eustass,” you confess, and you swear his cock twitches inside you.

He unlatches you. “Fuck,” he snarls, and changes positions so you’re in doggy. “Say that again,” he grips your ass, and you turn to look at him, and whimper at how intently he’s looking at you.

“Only you can fuck me this good, I want only you forever,” at the forever, he inhales a sharp breath, the pretty sound leaving his pretty lips, plus the fire in his eyes threatening to consume everything around you, plus his thickness filling you in this position, plus his balls slapping your clit, plus the way his giant hands hold your hips so securely, makes pleasure fill your brain again to the brink of overflowing.

“Yeah? Well shit, gonna keep you then, Y/n,” he all but whines. Hearing him say your name with such breathlessness makes you clench around him, and he rubs circles on your clit.

“You gonna cum for me? Again, you selfish little princess?” He coos, as your fourth orgasm of the night approaches.

“Yes, Eustass! So close,” you whine.

He keeps pistoning inside you and stimulating your clit like the perfect incubus. “Good baby, cream around my cock just like fucking that,” he moans, and you see white once again, screaming silently, eyes clenching tightly. He goes a few more thrusts into your clenching cunt, and moans as he spills inside of you.

He’s panting a little, and you’re collapsing into the bed.

“Such a weak human,” he smooths over your lower back, slowly pulling out and admiring the cream pie. You’re actually pretty strong for being able to handle him, and he finds only you as worthy of his cock specially for that reason.

You feel yourself on the brink of passing out when you feel him help you to the restroom so you can take care of business. You sleepily wash you hands after and collapse in the mattress, tired out of your mind. Then you gasp at a warm, wet towel wiping you clean. He’s probably going to leave soon, you think sadly. Why did you tell him not to leave you? So stupid …though…wait…didn’t he tell you he was falling for you?

Then the mattress groans and sinks behind you as you lay on your side.

A large arm snakes around you. Wait what?

He leans his face into the crook of your shoulder. “Because someone is so clingy,” he mutters, and you roll your eyes because he’s the clingy one. You shift to turn around to face his warm chest, and almost hear purring when you set his arm back to curl around you more. “Mhmm,” you sleepily hum, and his heart leaps at how sweet and adorable you are, two things he’s very unfamiliar with but has come to love. He can’t believe he’s doing this, watching you sleep.

You both relax in each other’s presence. Quiet.

When he’s sure you’re asleep, you hear him whisper,

“Fucking love you,” as he admires your resting form.

_______________________________________

[kuroo-hitsuji]

May I request the purring and body type headcannons for Levi and Beel please. I really enjoyed Lucifer and Satan’s so I’m curious on your take on them :)

The post directly before this one should be Levi and Beel purring so I'm going to jump to body types :) these two are kind of the most clear in my mind also so I'm excited abzbdh

Levi - he's a little softer than the rest of them, a bit stocky in a way that could still be read as athletic (it's part of the angel genetics, they tend to hold on to muscle well/rebuild it quickly since they're effectively built with some intention of becoming warriors when they're grown, and ofc Levi being a former leader of legions in the celestial realm and the admiral of hells navy currently is no exception) but he doesn't have any particularly defined muscles even when he flexes and his sides and stomach are squishy and cute. He's also got the perfect amount of thigh-squish for thigh highs and a kind kf long (and pretty) neck, do with this information what you will lol

Beel - his body type fluctuates pretty rapidly thanks to his hobbies and insane metabolism. He's always Very Large and Very Buff, but his body fat percentage is always changing so he slides between being relatively shredded and having a pretty soft layer over the existing muscles (so between A Lot of muscle definition and not particularly significant muscle definition but still clearly Jacked). This (as well as the fact that his muscles are still getting bigger now and then) is why he tends to prefer looser clothing; he can end up with a few clothing sizes worth of difference overnight sometimes, fitted clothing is a bit of a nightmare lmao. His shoulder-waist-hips ratio is pretty notable as well, with slight hourglass vibes, but his waist is still visibly thick and sturdy (the rest of him is just Also thick and sturdy ajdbsjhx like his waist usually does not look small period its just obviously narrower than his massive lats and thighs💀 He is one of those people that "trunk" is an Absolutely Accurate word to describe his stomach region ok this is Very important to me lmao)

I just feel like he just visually gives off the energy of being a brick wall basically anywhere he's at in the fluctuation cycle, like he's visibly just So Sturdy and safe, like Immovable Object type aura, the only exception being the rare occurence that he's so low on fuel he can't even rampage (poor baby)

[juliusofcaesar]

@galileo-of-the-legion [Julius is up at dawn, with his pack on his back and the baby he found carefully swaddled against his chest. He's wrapped his arms and legs in strips of cloth, and put on a hood and goggles to protect his skin. He shows up at Galileo's tent, back straight and standing at attention]

Good morning, sir! I'm all ready to go!

[selfawarecobalt]

bro that fight was absolutely ridiculous! I love Gray but that was clearly main character syndrome. when Freed said that the rune won't cancel every magic to give Gray a chance I knew this was the first excuse to have the Raijinshuu lose. if serious, Freed could've just cancelled everything and the fight would've been over before it even began. then the Gray doesn't feel the torture rune excuse out of nowhere and the fact that Gray won against Evergreen Bickslow AND Freed with all ridiculous reasons and then struggled against an injured and exhausted Mirajane afterwards while Freed was holding up great against an emotional-overdrive, rage power Mira in the fight with her, it's all just so badly written. I would've given Gray the advantage of using devil slayer magic against people like Mira and Freed but at least make it a damn good and difficult fight because not only Mira is a power to be reckoned with, Freed has been set up to be too. then there are Ever and Bickslow qith their eye magics as well, and how they were knocked out was a joke too. I dont want this animated.

EXACTLY. I’ll be the first to admit gray would be powerful enough to defeat individual members of the thunder legion (that main character power boost) but that was an utter piss take. gray still struggled against just bixlow during their first fight, even if he couldve beaten him. that “um actually gray cant feel pain in this form” was completely stupid. ive seen a lot of awful things from modern fairy tail but that was undoubtedly the worst. also that “omg of course i feel pain i was hitting my comewades :((((“ INFURIATED me. didnt have that energy during what i assume was meant to be a “comedic” scene of him just beating the shit out of freed when he was already down. also the whole “lets rip the clothes off the only girl!” thing made me want to barf. i genuinely believe it would’ve been better for their characters if the thunder legion had been killed in the tartaros arc.

also YEAH THE WHOLE “struggled against an exhausted and injured mira” genuinely gave me vertigo after i finally escaped from having it shoved down my eyeholes. like yeah mira was rusty during her fight with freed but she was absolutely rage filled, and it was really emphasised just how powerful she was, and it was STILL a tough fight. against just freed. the whole thunder legion vs gray shouldve been a sweep in the other direction. weve seen they can all work together, using their unique magics to complicate things for enemies.

cant think where else to put this so im slapping this in here. EVEN THOUGH GRAY HAS DEMON SLAYER MAGIC NOW FREED HAS A FUCKING SWORD. also that stupid “gray teleports behind evergreen and bixlow” thing? WHAT KIND OF DEMON SLAYER MAGIC IS THAT. all fairy tail main characters are the worst type of mary sue. and i LIKE mary sues.

evergreen can turn people to stone and fire hundreds of BULLETS and explosions. bixlow can use his babies to beat the shit out of long distance targets and take control of their bodies (NOT TURN THEM CHIBI. HIRO.). FREED CAN FUCKING TURN INTO A DEMON AND ALMOST INSTANTLY TRAP PEOPLE AND DEPRIVE THEM OF OXYGEN, AND CUT A GODDAMN TORNADO IN HALF. THESE ARE VETERAN FIGHTERS WHO WERE ONCE ABLE TO DAMN NEAR TAKE DOWN THE ENTIRE GUILD. now theyre just a joke. their personalities have been completely erased and replaced with “omg laxus!!”. im going to hurl

if you HAD to make up an excuse to weaken them, sure you could make up some shit about “oh the barrier particles damaged their magic containers” BUT EVEN THEN THEYRE STILL SMART ENOUGH TO WORK TOGETHER.

seriously. this was the most blatant case of main character nepotism ive literally ever seen. i genuinely despise 100yq, it always felt so lazy and uncreative. uhh yeah actually surprise theres four more acnologias but more powerful. yeah theyre were never mentioned before so what. every character looks the same now. the lucyification of the fairy tail girls needs to be studied. this infection is taking away every single character and the only reactions im seeing to it are “omg glow up!!”

(also i HATE seeing people talk about the spinoff characters like “omg so cute its like an alternate universe” NO ITS JUST LAZY. HE ONLY KNOWS LIKE 4 CHARACTER TYPES AS MAIN CHARACTERS AND IM SICK OF NOONE ACKNOWLEDGING IT)

[pathtonowhereimagine]

Chief and Chelsea are married but not many of the Sinners know. The flirty wife is trying to bug her very busy wife to entertain her and almost blow their secret. (I love Chelsea so much why can't she be real) (Also thank you for all the fluff you write)

⊱ ────────────── {.⋅ M ⋅.} ───────────── ⊰

Married!Countess Chelsea x Married!Fem!Chief

TW; Married but kept secret, Chief is AFAB but use they/she

Notes; I can totally see this happening

Edit; I goofed up on what class Chelsea is

⊱ ────────────── {.⋅ M ⋅.} ───────────── ⊰

"Hey, Chief!~"

The Chief looked up from her paper with Nightingale in her office as Chelsea barges in with several bags in hand, tossing some of them on the couch a single blue bag in her hands with a very fancy logo on.

"Look what I got you!~"

Pulling out a very elegant two piece suit in the Chief's signature colors; gray and black.

"So, what do you think darling?"

Standing up from their desk over the countess as she held the suit inspecting the fine clothing.

"It's wonderful, Chelsea."

"Oh! I knew you'd like it!"

Chelsea went in for a kiss but Chief stopped her half way much to the confusion of the Countess, Chief jesters with her eyes to Nightingale looking through files and paperwork - she pouts at the inconvenience but never the less understood the situation. Giving them a wink handing them the suit before leaving the office space, sitting back down at her desk as Nightingale continues to look through the files.

"Chelsea seems very fond of you."

Later on during dispatch Chief assigned Langley, Zoya and Chelsea to investigate a rumor going around about mania trading nearby. But all the while Chelsea has to keep herself inline as the Legion and 9th leaders continuously talk to Chief, even though she's a A-Class Sinner she knows she can take on them - even holding herself back when they start to get touchy with Chief. During the time EMP and Hella noticed Chelsea's envious attitude when Chief talks with Langley or Zoya.

"Geez, what's gotten you worked up Countess?"

Hella poked her shoulder with her pipe pushing it away from her expensive jacket.

"None of your business, little bear."

"Oooh! Come on Chelsea you can tell us."

EMP tries her puppy eyes but to no avail as the Countess walks past them as she watches on. After the dispatch the Chief immediately head to her office space to fill out more paperwork for the day, until her door was slammed opened by none other then Chelsea with a envious stare at her - shrinking in her seat as the sinner walked towards her desk until she stood in front of them.

"Hey, honey."

She stared them in the eyes as they nervously pick at their armrest.

"Is something wrong?"

Chelsea then placed one of her knees on their chair then grabbing the top of their seat caging them, so they won't try to escape now as she stare them down.

"Something wrong? I don't know, dear."

She then sinks down to their neck kissing and nibbling along their skin as they hold onto her waist, Chelsea's hands wonder to their chest as she unbuttons their shirt.

"Seeing my baby being touched by such filthy hands."

Their breath hitched as Chelsea bites their collarbone as their hands slid down from her hips pulling her thighs onto their chair, now straddling their lap as she continues her assault on their skin - the room became heated with hushed moans and the sounds of sloppy kisses. Until the tension was interrupted by the knocks at the doors.

"Chief, you in there?"

Nightingale called from the otherside twisting the doorknob as she looks over the report on her tablet, looking up at Chief confessed at their dishevel form along with Chelsea as she fixes her jewels - ignoring the scene as she reports on today's event to Chief having them sign a few paperwork here and there. When she finally leaves the room the Chief sighs a breath of relief as Chelsea checks her nails.

"God that was too close."

"I could say the same, dear."

Chuckling at the comeback turning their chair to her guiding her by her hand until she's sitting on their lap, removing the velvet glove on her left hand showing the golden band around her ring finger. Kissing the back of her hand as Chelsea giggled as their kisses travel up her arm, lifting their head up to kiss her on lips which she happily returned - Chelsea played with the similar ring on Chief's ring finger as well.

[bippot]

I love the 'monarch hotel' series

If I could shoot it directly into my veins like heroin I would

Well, here is your next fix!

The Monarch Hotel - Chapter 6: Milkweed

Story Summary -> How many times does Vigilante need to get injured before Harcourt finally gives in and hires a medic to help out with the squad's injuries? Far too many times, that's how many.

When it's uncovered that a fancy hotel is linked to, not only what's left of the legion of butterflies, but also a string of weird deaths and missing persons reports, the only two for the job are lovesick Adrian and the newbie.

Chapter 6: Milkweed Summary -> The Bardots' get dressed for dinner and come into contact with a substance called Milkweed. It's disgusting and mandatory, but that doesn't stop the pair from having a nice time dancing.

Tags -> Canon-Typical Violence, Gun Violence, Blood and Injury, Undercover as a Couple. Fluff, Idiots in Love, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Summer Vacation, Butterflies, Alien Invasion, Stitches, Weird Biology, Creep in a Bathroom, Aphrodisiacs, Date Rape Drug/Roofies, Drugging, Peeping, General Weirdness

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Previous Chapter -> Alien Perverts

Once they'd managed to disentangle themselves from each other, Y/N and Adrian got ready for dinner. They'd wasted hours in bed. Wasted hours lay together in the quiet comfort of their hotel room. Wasted hours in each other's grasp. Because they needed it.

At two o'clock that day, they'd already had a wild fuckin one, and they had napped for most of the morning. So what if they neglected some of their work for a few hours of respite? Being drugged and creeped on was exhausting.

As Y/N was in the process of clipping her earrings in, Adrian exited the bathroom in nothing but a towel since he'd forgotten to bring his clothes in with him, and her mouth was forming a wolf whistle before she'd fully come to terms with the fact that her very sexy friend was half naked in her presence. Hell, why not lean into it? Why not inflate his ego a bit?

"Who is this sexy man before me?" she playfully cheered, her eyes raking over his dripping form very obviously, and she brought the back of her hand to her temple. "You've got me swooning, champ."

He turned fully bright red from the very tips of his ears to his freckled chest. He got so shy all of a sudden. He tried to hide his flushing cheek in his shoulder, but she'd already seen it and was enjoying everything that was presented to her.

"Baby, look at you blush!" she teased as she reached out to poke him in the chest. He was a furnace, the heat emitting from him was so intense that she couldn't resist the urge to press her palms against his skin to warm her room temperature hands to Adrian temperature. "You're red hot."

"I'm definitely red."

"You can say that again, hot stuff."

"Please stop being nice to me, I will get a boner."

Grinning at him like a maniac, Y/N rolled her eyes and shook her head, but did give him some space to breathe. He found his clothes and held them in a bundle over his crotch as he awkwardly backed himself into the bathroom because he'd been noticeably turned on from the moment she'd called him sexy and was so glad she either hadn't noticed it or chose not to mention it. He dressed quickly and he did have to admit, the clothes he'd hastily grabbed didn't exactly go together. He grabbed some navy dress pants, an orange and white striped shirt, and a green argyle vest.

It simply didn't work at all.

"No."

"What?" He hummed in confusion. "No what?"

"Take it off."

Y/N crossed the room and lifted his arms so she could guide him to take the sweater off. As soon as that garment was thrown in the general direction of their bed, she began undoing the buttons of his shirt.

"There's too much going on here," she commented, pushing the fabric from his shoulders casually.

So casually that Adrian was sure she wasn't aware of her effect on him, despite the fact she'd made fun of him a mere five minutes ago for the effect she was having on him. At this moment, to her, he was just a fashion problem to solve and not someone who'd spent the last few hours feeling her up. All Adrian did was watch in fascination as Y/N turned and surveyed the clothes Leota had packed for him. He stood there with his hands on his hips, just grinning to himself as she went about pulling the pieces from the suitcase one by one.

"You just wanted me shirtless again," he joked once he'd got the nerve to.

"Oh, I always want that."

With a chuckle, she finally found a white tank top and threw it at his face. "Put this on," she ordered, and obviously he obeyed. "Where did I put it? It was around here somewhere. Ah!"

The moment he'd gotten the vest over his head, she was guiding his arms into a slightly oversized beige shirt, doing the buttons up to about halfway, and rolling up the sleeves. Once a fancy-looking silver watch and belt were added, she stood back to evaluate, and fuck, he looked classy and effortless and so goddamned hot that Y/N unconsciously bit her lip as took in the image before her.

"This is better?"

"...Yeah," she breathed.

"You like?"

"I like." She averted her gaze to her feet. "Do you like my dress?"

She had picked a dark blue sundress that had a sweetheart neckline and came to just below her knee. That paired with the Jimmy choos and the delicate silver jewellery she'd added made her feel and look a million bucks.

"You, uh, you look really nice, Y/N," he answered. "Really, really pretty."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, you're my pretty little wife," he tried to joke but there was a catch to his voice that he didn't think to hide - one that made him seem so boyish and vulnerable. "Never thought I'd get to call anyone my 'wife', especially not someone as nice as you."

Turning into a complete puddle at his confession, Y/N had no choice but to cradle his head so lovingly in her palms, her thumbs drawing circles against his just-shaved jaw. "You've been an excellent husband so far, just the best. Imagine if I had to do this mission with Chris... or John," she chuckled at the thought, "We'd be dead by now. So, thank you for being you and taking care of me like you do, and only you do. You are the only person capable of being my 'husband'."

"I...uh... I don't know what... People aren't... I mean, I've never... I don't... I don't know what to say."

"It's okay. You don't have to say anything."

Nodding his head, he pulled her close and buried his face in the crook of her neck, mumbling out a quiet, "John would fucking suck at this mission," that had Y/N laughing into his temple.

"No offence to John, but I guarantee that he's an awful kisser."

"He is." She waited for the explanation that he was dying to give. "He's an affectionate drunk, like, trying to stick his tongue down my throat kinda affectionate. Apparently, he needed to kiss his homies goodnight and was way too enthusiastic about it."

"Weird."

He pulled back to agree, "Really weird," and grin at her.

They held eye contact for a beat too long, his arms still around her waist, their noses an inch apart. His gaze dropped to her lips and he had to fight the urge to kiss her.

"We better go," she murmured, breaking the contact first and stepping back, but she'd only taken two steps away from him before she was rushing back to him.

Giving in, Y/N surged to snog the hell out of Adrian, who only had a second to register that he was being kissed before he was pushing her by the hips into the nearest wall, groaning and curling his hand into the back of her head so she wouldn't hit it against the concrete. His other hand cupped butt, pulling her closer as he rocked his pelvis against hers. It was a rough, urgent, possessive kiss that took everything he had to give, and even though he could feel his control slipping away, Adrian did eventually pull back and rest his forehead against hers.

"Sorry... sorry," he panted, a little embarrassed by how out of breath he was. "I got carried away and..."

His words trailed off when he got a good look at her face, which was flushed and beaming up at him, the grin on her face telling him that she didn't mind at all. Her lips were slightly parted and felt so soft when he brushed his thumb across them, causing a small groan to bubble up from his chest. He had to force himself to pull away, to let her go, to not drag her back to the bed and fuck the hell out of her.

"We should go," she said softly, then with a mischievous grin, added, "Before we make even more of a mess of my lipstick."

After a long, charged pause, Adrian let out a shaky chuckle as soon as Y/N began to wipe away any smudges of lipstick from his face. They were simply two idiots making excuses to touch each other's lips in any way they could, and they both knew it.

Y/N got halfway to the door before her hand reached behind for him to hold, and she only had to wiggle her fingers at him to know that he was going to do exactly what she wanted and follow after her, no matter what.

The walk to the dining hall itself was short, quiet, and filled with sneaky glances as each other, but their dinner was filled with conversation. Everyone they came across wanted to know about the newly married couple that arrived just this morning.

Apparently, word travels fast at The Monarch Hotel.

So, the pair painted fake smiles on and tried to remember all the names that had been thrown their way. It seemed the only pair that hadn't introduced themselves were their target and her partner. Queen Caroline and someone who was not her deceased husband hadn't moved from their seat the entire meal, not even looking out to the throng of other guests around them once.

"If you keep moving your hand up my thigh, I'm going to get another awkward boner. You're killing me here," Adrian whispered to Y/N during their lulls between conversations. Y/N had been taking the time to see what was going on with the Queen and was focused on that rather than where her hand was. She'd assumed that it was still innocently placed on his knee, yet that wasn't the case.

"Sorry champ," she whispered back with a slight giggle in her voice as her hand retreated back towards his knee, though she couldn't help but glance back up at his flushing face every now and again to take a peek.

Every single couple but one came up to them. All of them but Queen Caroline wasted their time on introductions and 'when was the last time you went skiing in the alps?' and 'isn't the caviar they serve here just delicious?' while the target sat there silently eating her food, refusing to acknowledge or respond to any of the other party guests' attempts at conversation.

All of them were all so fucking chirpy that it was unnerving. Aren't married people supposed to be miserable and hate each other? Or has every middle-aged male comedian been lying for the past thirty years? All these couples seemed so loved up, so happy and so damn... boring.

There seemed to be nothing wrong with them. They were rich. They were in love. They were happy. They were in paradise. They were fucking insufferable. It all seemed so fucking fake.

As the night wound down and most of the others had left for the after dinner mixer, the couple that the pair had bumped into when they first arrived appeared and sat in the seats opposite. "I hope you remember us from this morning?" the man asked, his smile so wide that Y/N was half convinced he'd been doused with the Joker's laughing gas.

"Oh! Of course!" Y/N smiled brightly at them, giving Adrian a little nudge. "How can I possibly forget? Steve and Sam, am I right?"

Steve and Sam nodded their heads in unison. "That's us," Sam said, smiling broadly at her. "Your dress is to die for, Syd. Can I call you Syd?"

"Please do. And this old thing? I've had it in the back of my closet for weeks now and, well, what better time than now to give it a spin?"

A long and way too pleasant compliment battle happened between Sam and 'Sydney' as their husbands sat there, just nodding along and watching with mild amusement and a few chuckles here and there. In his head, Adrian was trying to think of conversation starters but they were all too nerdy or downright too gross to say to this guy.

Peacemaker was easy to talk to. They'd talk about everything. From the time Chris witnessed somebody shit themselves when they were getting a tattoo and failed to mention it until the tattoo lady asked, "What is that smell?", to the time when Olivia Welch period blooded all over his brother Gut's white trousers when she had to sit on his lap cause there weren't enough car seats on the way to church one Sunday.

No matter how fucked up, Peace probably had experienced some way more fucked up so it was totally fine to say to him.

This guy? What has ever gone wrong in the rich asshole's life? Had he ever been period blooded on while dressed as a Backstreet Boy wannabe? Adrian fuckin' doubted it.

Soon, it was heavily implied that all of the guests should've been in the gigantic marquee outside so those remaining in the dining hall were not so subtly ushered there. It was white and filled with greenery and fairy lights and there were three ornate bars stocked with just about every alcohol you could ever need and a band on a raised platform. There wasn't any seating though, so everyone stood near each other chatting loudly about everything under the sun, waiting for something to begin.

Sparrow emerged and planted himself in the middle of the room with a tray of milky looking drinks on a platter and an excited glint in his eyes. "Everyone ready to party!?" He grinned widely at everyone, receiving several thumbs ups and cheers as one by one they took a glass from him. "Excellent. Let's get started!"

At his command, every person in the room took a shot, and immediately, music blared through the speakers and loud voices shouted in a jovial tone. The floor seemed to shake beneath everyone's feet and the entire crowd of strangers swayed to the music, laughing happily while having fun together.

Y/N and Adrian hadn't drunk theirs yet, and Sam kept shooting nervous looks at them. Her eyes shot between Sparrow and the Bardots, and when she noticed that neither of them looked like they were going to take a sip anytime soon, she pulled Y/N in to whisper, "Drink before they notice."

When Y/N heard her, she turned to stare back at her suspiciously before slowly drinking from the cup in front of her, grimacing at the strong taste of... she had no idea how to accurately describe it. Like the outside of a green bean but with the juice of an out of date peach? That was as close as she was going to get.

And since Y/N drank it, why wouldn't he? Adrian practically threw the concoction down his throat and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, a disgusted expression on his face.

"You alright?" Steve asked as he nudged him, and as soon as Adrian nodded, he added, "You get used to it."

Yeah, it was gross but it hadn't altered them in any perceivable way so that was a small win, he guessed. He was just glad that they hadn't been roofied again since that happening twice in a day would be too much for his brain to handle.

"What was that?"

"I think they call it Milkweed."

"Like the flower?" Y/N asked, her voice rising to be heard over the music, and all Sam did was shrug.

Milkweed, the poisonous plant that caterpillars eat to retain the toxins that give them that bold orange colour on their wings in an effort to scream at predators 'Don't try to eat me, I'll kill you!' Should humans consume that? Absolutely not. Yet, they weren't feeling the nausea that they should've been so maybe it was just a name after all.

Before Y/N could rack her brain for whatever information she had stored in her brain, Sam was pulling her into the mass of dancing bodies and, luckily, as she felt the tug, her hand gripped onto Adrian's bicep and was yanking him along with her. His moves were goofy and mostly consisted of bouncing from foot to foot with some wavey hand gestures that seemed like they could be dance moves - or someone trying to hold a piss in - but he seemed to be having fun regardless so it was fine.

She couldn't have cared less about how stupid he looked. He was smiling, and that alone, relaxed her enough to not freak out about possibly just being poisoned (although, that was definitely something that needed to be looked further into). If it killed them, then so be it. At least they died happy.

Most of the guests danced to the upbeat tune that was blasting across the room from the bandstand in the corner, except for a select few of them, who were just standing around talking with various groups and talking with each other. Most of them didn't seem drunk and they weren't doing anything crazy but, then again, it was still early in the night and things might get more rambunctious as time went on.

For now, Y/N let her hips sway side to side to the beat of the song as Adrian tried to follow along, trying his damnedest to look as cool as possible. He'd never been a particularly good dancer but, hey, at least it gave him an excuse to dance next to a pretty girl. As expected, each song got progressively slower and slower and slower until the last few minutes of the night dragged on interminably as everyone eventually found themselves slow dancing with their partner or retreating back to their rooms.

Despite how much the pair wanted to hide away from these happy freaks, there was so much information that could be gleaned from just watching people let loose. Y/N had come to the conclusion that most, if not all of these couples, were in the same general 25-35 age range. Queen Caroline was the only woman who was an outlier in that regard.

The women around her were all different shapes, sizes and occupations - some were housewives, some were athletes, some were creatives, some were entrepreneurs, and others fell somewhere in between those lines - but the men were all the same.

All of them were fit. All of them had that kind of lean muscle body type. All of them were around 6 ft-ish. All of them were rich. All of them had pretty wives. All of them had less social capita than their pretty wives.

The Bardot cover story was that Sidney was the daughter of a decorated colonel and had become a well regarded paediatrician in her adult life - which purposely wasn't too far from the truth. Marty was a karate instructor and they'd met when she was asked to do first aid at a karate tournament, which is where their love story blossomed from. They'd put karate instructor down as a joke and, at the time, thought they'd change it to something more serious as the mission got closer. Obviously, that did not happen.

Women were the key to understanding what the fuck was going on here. Now that's goddamned feminism.

Adrian was just getting his groove on. He'd guessed Y/N was cracking something open in her mind since she got that far away look on her face that told him that she was deep in thought and he was going to have to take brunt of the 'acting that we're having a fantastic time' shtick.

Bringing her closer to his chest, Adrian rested his cheek on her hair as they swayed along to the slow, steady rhythm of the song, his arms wrapped around her waist as he held her against him. Y/N leaned into his chest like it was second nature, her body unconsciously melting into his like butter as her mind tried to process, sort through and explain everything she was hypothesising.

After a few minutes, she finally snapped back to reality and craned her neck upwards so that she could see Adrian's lips moving as he very quietly sang along to the song playing and Y/N just melted all over again. There was something so comforting about hearing his low baritone voice, something so tender and gentle and soft and borderline innocent.

What's that playing on the radio?

Why do I start swaying to and fro?

I have never heard that song before

But, if I don't hear it anymore

This guy was a bloodthirsty assassin? This guy was a loony? This guy was the psycho her sister warned her about? No way. This dude was a touch starved dork who was a complete sap when given the opportunity and security to do so.

It's still familiar to me

Sends a thrill right through me

Cause those chords remind me

Of the night that I first fell in love to

He was completely whipped for her, that much was obvious. If she asked him to wear a shirt with her face on it, he'd grab two from his wardrobe and ask which one she preferred.

Those magic changes my heart arranges

A melody that's never the same

A melody that's calling your name

It begs you please, come back to me

Please, return to me

It was almost as if he was singing her a lullaby, whispering sweet words into the crown of her head and brushing the back of her hair.

Don't go away again

Oh make thеm play again

The music I wanna hear is once again

You whispеr in my ear

Her chin propped itself on his peck, her fingers curling onto his shirt to ground herself as she gazed up at him.

Oh my darling

"You've watched Grease?" she whispered, raising an eyebrow.

"Yup," He replied softly with a shrug of his shoulder, chuckling nervously as he rubbed the back of his neck. "My Nana used to have a crush on John Travolta. We watched it every Saturday."

"I bet you know it word for word."

"I do. Nana used to find it very funny when I did my Danny Zuko impression."

"Oh, I have to see this now!"

In a flash, he was pretending to comb through his bouffant of hair, dramatically slinging on an imaginary leather jacket and he was pacing around her like a shark with a certain exaggerated swagger that she'd never seen before. She found herself holding back giggles, barely able to keep a straight face as he continued to strut about.

"That's cool, baby. I mean, you know how it is, rocking and rolling and whatnot," he mimicked the sleaze, making her snort loudly, before dropping it for a second to say, "Then you're supposed to say, 'Danny?!' in an offended Australian accent," and then the character immediately went back up.

"Danny?!"

"That's my name, don't wear it out."

Some more general Zuko-isms were performed before her eyes before Y/N was laughing hysterically at him and his downright atrocious accent while her hands flew up to wipe away the tears streaming down her cheeks. He'd even attempted some kind of blue steel type facial expressions to imitate Danny as best he could. Her fingers playfully moulded the skin of his cheeks, pushing them in so his lips would pucker like a fish.

"Gimme a kiss, Mrs Bardot," Adrian teased, still in Travolta mode. "It's like a fucked up Princess and the Frog - if you give me a smooch, I'll turn into a scientologist."

"Not likely," she said through her chuckles. Yet, Y/N would know how much he would whine if she didn't give in. Plus, she wanted to give in. So, throwing caution to the wind and leaning forward, his fish mouth met hers in an enthusiastic, somewhat sloppy but nonetheless sweet kiss.

"We could go back to our room if you want?" Y/N began, although she did instantly follow up by taking his hands and placing them on her waist, "Or we could stay and dance some more?"

His answer was obvious. His hands clutched onto the fabric at her hips and he pulled her closer to him. As he pressed himself into her even tighter, she instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned up, tilting her head ever so slightly backwards until their noses touched. Her lips parted gently and his hand slipped off of her waist and slowly travelled upwards to cup of her cheek, his thumb gently stroking her cheekbones as he stared into her eyes.

"This is what I think Prom would've been like," Adrian breathed, gazing deeply at Y/N before pressing their foreheads together and closing his eyes. "I didn't go so I don't really know if that's accurate or not, but I've watched movies."

"You've watched movies?" she parroted back to him, a chuckle following her words.

"Yeah, a lot of 'em'." Adrian bumped his nose into hers. "And in all the coming of age teen movies, they dance like this at Prom so I assume the real thing is somewhat similar. Is it?"

"I don't know. Nobody asked me so I didn't go."

Shock permeated through Adrian's being.

"They didn't?" he repeated, his voice an appalled whisper. "That's insane! If I had the chance back then, yeah, I bet I would've tried. Maybe not succeeded. But I would've tried to ask you to Prom, would've done the whole cringe over the top promposal as well if I had the opportunity... But I didn't, obviously."

Y/N felt incredibly warm. Like, super warm. Not in the sickening, sweaty, sex way, but more in a nice, cozy, holy fuck I think I might be in love with him, happy way. It was weird. Really fucking weird and totally different to anything she'd experienced in her relationship before, which was saying something considering all she'd been through.

"Oh, you wouldn't have wanted to go with me. I had braces and I had these glasses that were just so huge on my face and I was seriously pimple covered - I used to keep Proactiv in my backpack cause I always needed to reapply - and my style back then, jesus -"

"Y/N," Adrian interrupted, pulling away slightly and staring straight into her eyes. "You would've been you, so yes, I would've been so insufferably into you. Like I am now, and probably always will be." His tone turned softer, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I think I would've considered murdering Chris if he got to come here with you instead of me. John I could threaten with bodily harm and he'd run away with his tail between his legs, but Peace? Probably would've had to fight him."

He snorted at his own joke but then he paused for a second, letting out a short, humourless laugh, as if trying to hide how desperately he was waiting for her to say something else or tell him to stop making stupid jokes or something, but nothing came except for a giggle, which caused his shoulders to rise higher than they had already, as a goofy grin broke across his face.

They just stood there, simply smiling at each other for a moment, neither feeling the need to say anything to fill up the void between them. Neither sure what to make of their current situation, let alone where exactly it was headed next, because frankly, they hadn't given it much thought. All they knew for sure is that they were both enjoying themselves despite all the cult weirdness going on around them; they were enjoying the fact they were finally getting what they both desired most of all: each other.

Next Chapter -> The Bee's Knees

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