#and now i can't seem to have the power in me to watch it the 3 minutes of the episode i watched

[impale-me-radio-daddy]

Reddest Flags, Longest Nights

⩙ Summary: The year is 1989. The Berlin Wall has fallen, and Nintendo have just overseen the release of the Game Boy. The first ever episode of Baywatch has just aired, and Ted Bundy has just been executed by electric chair. Vox's relationship with the Radio Demon is on the rocks. Their solution? To add a third person to their bedroom: you

⩙ Warnings: Explicit sexual content, Vox X reader X Alastor, Radiostatic is a committed relationship (well, they're trying), Reader is a girl and she has a pussy, tentacle sex

⩙ Other notes: This is set in a sexy alternate universe for the characters in @bapple117's Bluest Monday

“I'm not for sale,” you say. It's a truly stupid, suicidal thing to say, with the Television Demon's talons wrapped around your arm, and his associate the Radio Demon watching with amused interest as Vox pulls you into their private booth.

“Come now, dear, that surely isn't true.” It's not Vox who speaks, but Alastor, his tones the same genial, cheerful ones he uses for his broadcasts. “Everyone has a price, after all.”

“Everybody fuckin' wants something, yeah.” Vox agrees, releasing your arm once he's convinced that you won't immediately bolt away. He's not slurring his words, but his movements are clumsier than you would expect. He's drunk, you realize. Both of them are. “People want power. Money. Control.”

“Sex,” says Alastor, flashing a grin at Vox, who makes a noise like someone just tuned him to a dead channel, his face filling briefly with static.

“Shh-yeah, some people want sex, Al. That's a normal fuckin' thing to want.”

Alastor's smile grows, a little smug, a little cruel, and his red eyes turn to you. “What about you, dear? Do you want sex?”

“Al! You can't just fuckin' ask a girl that!”

“Last I checked I was better informed on etiquette than you, old chum,” Alastor's smile slides sideways. “And besides, if our interests align, there's a deal to be had.”

You hadn't come to the club intending to sell anything, but the two demons are adept negotiators- Alastor assuring you that no, he doesn't need your soul per se, just your services, services of a personal, private nature, and aren't you inclined to give those, isn't it in your own best interests? All the while Vox is giving a more direct incentive, the front of his boxy face focused on you, entirely you, dexterous talons skating over the exposed skin of your forearms with enough pressure to make you shiver, with the implied promise that he could touch you in less socially acceptable places, if only you would agree to what the Radio Demon was offering.

You're tempted. You're so, so tempted. You know that this is a bad idea, that these two are bad news to be around, that you should just go back to your normal sinner life, but instead you find yourself leaning in to listen more closely to Alastor's solicitations, and Vox, still touching you, grows bolder, his hand dropping below the table to stroke your thigh.

The top of your thigh at first, skating the seams of your clothes, then dropping to your inner knee, Vox's claw drawing a daring line from your knee and up your inner thigh to your panties.

Your breath hitches, and Alastor tips his head at you, expression amused. “You seem distracted. Would you like me to repeat that last part?”

“Would ya like me to repeat that last part?” asks Vox, his grin as wide as his face and lecherous.

“I can make him stop, if you'd prefer,” says Alastor, with a casual menace.

It's hard to listen to the full terms and conditions with Vox's fingers massaging the fabric of your panties, and maybe that's the intention, but you can't bring yourself to ask him to stop, or even to ask Alastor to ask him to stop.

“What've you got to lose?” says Vox, his heavy box of a head nudging against your shoulder as the pads of his fingers press against your now slick-drenched gusset. Your thighs press together, his hand trapped between.

“Of course,” says Alastor. “If you'd like to think about it-”

“Oh, she's thinkin' about it, Al,” says Vox, his tone laden with filth.

“I'll do it!” you blurt, and both of their faces light like pinball machines. “I mean, yes.”

“Splendid,” chirps Alastor. “Now, as a rule, I will close a deal with a handshake, but for this-”

A kiss.

You've never imagined kissing the most terrifying demon in all of Pentagram city, so you have no idea what to expect, but Alastor's hand on your cheek is a feather light touch, a swirl of green magic around you. His lips on yours are chaste, brushing rather than prying, in stark contrast to Vox, who takes the opportunity to push your panties to the side with his fingers and stroke a slow line along your slick-coated inner lips. You whine against Alastor's mouth, and he slides his hand to the back of your head, holding you there as the deal is sealed.

That’s how you go home with them, Alastor holding the green chain that fastens to the shackle around your neck. Vox drives uptown, away from Voxtek, away from the Radio Demon’s broadcasting tower, and you end up in a quiet, well-appointed apartment in the most nondescript tower block that you have ever seen.

You note the shoe rack; the way that Vox’s shiny black dress shoes are stacked up next to Alastor’s bespoke deer-soled boots, and it occurs to you that this isn’t just Vox’s playboy apartment, as you’d expected. The two of them live together. There is only one bedroom.

“So, what now?” asks Alastor, holding out a gentlemanly arm for you to lean on as you remove your shoes in the entrance. “I believe your suggestion was to try new things, yes?”

“Jesus, Al.” Vox’s sigh is heavy. “We’ll just go to the bedroom, undress, and, uh, see where we go, yeah?”

“See where we go?” Alastor’s voice inflects upwards into his upper registers, the sound of a capacitor about to burst, and you realize that you are in considerable danger.

Alastor is grinning, but his body language is stressed, his ears back, lips pulled back over his gums to show the most of his teeth. In your second possibly suicidal move of the night, you squeeze his arm, where you have been holding him since taking off your shoes.

Alastor’s gaze snaps to you, eyes dangerously red, but there’s uncertainty in the corners of his smile. He kissed you, back in the club, you reason, so he can’t find you entirely objectionable. You lower your gaze, sliding a hand up his forearm, and his ears shift, subtly. He exhales, a little of the tension going out of his chest, and you slide your hand to his upper arm, pushing him back against the coat rack behind him, pressing him against an electric blue shell jacket, and he just lets you.

If Alastor were half a foot shorter you would kiss him, but as it is he stares down at you, his smile a question, until finally he gets what you’re trying to do, and bends his knees fractionally so that you can stand on tiptoes and press your face to his.

You can feel his smile under your lips, parting as you dare to pry, your tongue finding his teeth, and then the tip of his tongue, cautious against yours. You can feel the little shiver of his breath, his hand down your back. At first you think he’s about to slip his hand under your waistband, but instead he spreads his large hand under your ass, cupping it, and lifts you off your feet.

You feel a moment of vertigo, and a swoop in your stomach that is definitely not vertigo as Alastor holds you with your face level to his and slips his entire tongue into your mouth. You took him initially as a conservative kisser, but perhaps he was holding back before. You groan against his lips, feeling heat spread into your lower half as his tongue explores your mouth, the tip probing the roof of your mouth, the soft flesh of the insides of your cheeks. It’s not just the kiss but the feeling of helplessness that it brings, of being held aloft by a being so much more powerful than you. Your knees press the coats either side of Alastor’s waist as he cradles your ass, your tongue lapping against his, eyes closed, arms locking around his shoulders. By the time he breaks the kiss you are gasping, heart pounding in your chest, and Alastor gives you an appraising look.

“You are very small,” Alastor comments, his face a little flushed from the kissing. He doesn’t set you down, however, shifting his forearm under you as you wrap your ankles around his waist, his staff in his other hand.

“Ah, she’ll do fine, Al,” says Vox with a glance over his shoulder, unbuttoning his shirt as he stalks through the living area and into the bedroom. Alastor follows, carrying you as if you weigh nothing.

Seeing the bedroom only serves to solidify your impression that the two of them live here together. There is definitely Alastor’s side of the bed, with red deer themed slippers poking out from underneath, and Vox’s side of the bed, with a digital alarm clock and a special pillow with a square cutout for his head. Two powerful demons, together in secret. It’s enough to make your head spin as Alastor sets you down, gently, on the his side of the bed.

“Alright, let’s fuckin’ do this.” Vox clambers onto the bed, shucking off his shirt, a pause before he reaches you, his hand on your knee. “You too, Al.”

“Must I?” Alastor gives a sideways sort of smile.

“You don’t say that in front of a girl!” barks Vox, and you get the impression he would be pulling his own hair, if he had any. “You’re gonna hurt her feelings or some shit. And yeah, Al, you gotta join in. Otherwise it’s just me fuckin’ a girl on the bed in front of you, and that’s not really a fuckin’ threesome now, is it?”

Alastor smiles thoughtfully. “You did say we would see where we go. I could read a book.”

“Fuck my life,” Vox mutters, flopping back, his boxy head hitting the duvet heavily.

You tug on Alastor’s sleeve again, catching his attention. “You don’t have to do anything.”

“I’m aware,” says Alastor, expression guarded, smile thin. He pauses. “Are your feelings really hurt?”

Your smile is wry. You’d be lying if you said his reticence didn’t hurt, at least a little. “My ego, maybe?”

“Ah.” Alastor looks down at you, and you are caught for a second by just how red his eyes are, like rubies, or pools of fresh blood. His fingers whisper across your cheek, pushing away a strand of hair. “We can’t have that now, can we?”

Tossing his staff onto Vox’s supine form, Alastor climbs onto the bed. He cups your face in his hands and kisses you for the third time that evening, all pretense of propriety gone as he pushes you onto your back, your head onto his pillows and his tongue snaking its way into your mouth. It takes your breath away; you can feel nothing else, only the dance of your tongues and lips, slick with saliva, Alastor’s hands sliding down to your jaw and your neck with the barest pressure. He traces the lines of your arteries, almost absently, and you moan into his mouth as you feel your body respond to him, your pulse growing insistent between your legs. You spread your knees without even thinking about it, your cunt level with his navel as you lie shameless and gasping and red-faced beneath him.

“Now we’re talkin’” Vox grins sidelong at the two of you, propping himself up on his elbows. “You are such a fuckin’ tease, Al.”

“Mm…” Alastor looks down at you, his lips parted and shiny with spit. “I do hope that’s a compliment.”

“Thank you,” you breathe, and Alastor presses a finger lazily to your lips, his eyes narrowing fractionally as if to say no thanks needed.

Vox, meanwhile, is removing your panties. He’s not shy of the Radio Demon’s body either, his hand on Alastor’s flank as he makes the space he needs to get them off. In short order you are naked, your clothing peeled away and the sheets warm against your back, though with the gazes of the two men on you, the room feels far from cold. Vox is down to y-fronts, which his cock strains against valiantly, while Alastor keeps his trousers and shirt, his tie and waistcoat discarded beside the bed.

Vox kisses your breasts, not even trying for your face, Alastor sitting back to give him better access. Vox’s lips are strange, part of the curvature of his front glass and yet not, warm and staticky against your skin, supple as his lips curve around your nipple and suck. His tongue is stranger yet, its sensation alien as the buzzing of fluorescent lights as he traces a circle around your areola and brings your nipple to a shivering point. Vox repeats the action with your other breast, Alastor stroking the vents on the back of his boxy head, his expression unguarded and fond.

“Al-” Vox makes a frustrated noise, his breath hot on your breast. “Pay attention to the girl.”

Alastor smirks, his expression almost flirtatious. “I was,” he says, his eyes meeting yours briefly, “But you and your big head got in the way.”

“Oh for crying out loud, Al.” Vox pinches the top of his frame with two fingers, his other hand on your breast. “There’s plenty to be done here-” Vox’s hand moves down your body, over the softness of your stomach and to your sex, a reassuring squeeze on your hip.

Alastor looks at you, your pink cunt spread open for him, and his brow knits slightly. He’s still touching your leg, hand stroking your shin where it rests against his waist. He’s nervous, you realize. Afraid of fucking up. Afraid of spoiling things.

“Wait-” Vox’s face is thoughtful as he reaches the same conclusion. “You’ve never eaten a girl out, have you?”

“I’ll have you know,” says Alastor, his spine straightening a little. “That I ate two ladies just last week.”

“No, fuck- I mean… eat pussy, Al.”

Alastor raises an eyebrow. “Certainly not!” he pipes. “The taste is revolting, the fur gets stuck in my teeth, and they have too many small bones.”

Vox gives a growl, and you find yourself holding back a laugh. Alastor catches your eye again, his eyes narrowing, red and beautiful as he bends to kiss your knee, a brush of his thin lips. “As my friend here has surmised, I am new to the neighborhood,” he says, his smile a little embarrassed as his gaze travels your inner thigh. “If you would be amenable to showing me around?”

You had expected the Radio Demon to be dominant in the bedroom, to take charge and fill the room with slapping, squelching sounds, but instead he is quiet, his gaze intent as you nervously spread yourself for him. You don’t know what directions he might want, so you hesitate, shrinking back as his eyes seem to drink you in.

“May I?” he asks, and when you nod, he drags a finger through the wetness that seeps viscous from your cunt; a slow, deliberate touch that seems to set every nerve ending in its path aflame. He pulls the finger away, his expression fascinated as a clear string of slick stretches between his finger and your cunt. “How interesting!” he exclaims, before popping the finger in his mouth, eyes closing as he savors your taste.

Vox rests Alastor’s microphone across his knees, impatient. “Al, you’re meant to put your face down there.”

“I’m building anticipation,” says Alastor, his lips a thin smile. “And if you had an ounce of natural showmanship, you would understand that.”

Vox shakes his head, his hands and mouth going back to your breasts, your shoulders and your neck. Vox’s head is too large to comfortably fit in the crook of your neck, but his tongue more than makes up for that, slithering bright across the sensitive flesh of your throat as his claws gently knead your breasts. The biggest side effect of this is that Vox’s large head blocks your view, and you cannot see what Alastor is doing.

There is a cannibal overlord between your legs is the first thought that registers as Alastor’s lips move glacial up your inner thigh. He kisses, he sucks, and he tastes, his fingertips ghosting feather light over your hips and stomach, tracing lines from your navel to your mons.

Vox finally deigns to kiss your mouth as Alastor reaches your cunt. Alastor parts your labia, his long tongue stroking between your folds as Vox’s tongue slips into your mouth, the doubled sensation delicious in its intensity. Alastor’s movements are hesitant, almost conservative, but your cunt is sopping wet enough that even the stripes he licks up your inner labia have you moaning into Vox’s mouth, your hips bucking needy into Alastor’s face.

Alastor’s fingers squeeze into the flesh of your ass, holding you firm as he tends to you, his face pressed firmly into your cunt, lips dragging across slick pink flesh as his tongue probes, a breath of pause between each attempt, his hands weighing how much each teasing lick makes you strain against his grip. His nose brushes your clit, which makes your entire body twitch, and he repeats the action more deliberately a second time.

It’s not long before he has found the most sensitive parts of your anatomy, along with the pattern of touch that best makes you arch your back and cry out. Alastor’s tongue moves back and forth, sweeping hot and wet and divine over you as you spread your knees as wide as they will go, your stomach tightening as you arch your back.

“Holy fuck.” Vox breaks your kiss to look impressed, one clawed hand kneading your chest. “Al, you’re gonna make her cum.”

Alastor doesn’t answer, a primal growl into your cunt, and you cannot answer, the only noise in your throat a mewl of helpless pleasure as Alastor, a man who has spent decades in Hell inflicting pain on souls attacks your nerve endings with a furious precision. You’re going to cum, and you don’t have a choice about it, not with his grip steely on your hips. You want to beg, but your lips can’t even form words as Alastor’s tongue robs you of sense, of language, of decorum, each movement of his mouth sending you hurtling towards the edge. Vox’s hands on you are marginalia to the treatise on pleasure that Alastor’s mouth writes.

It occurs to you, as your orgasm hits, crashing over you and shattering you into pieces, that Alastor might have ruined sex with other men for you. Alastor carries on, tongue pressing into too sensitive flesh through your aftershocks, even as you whine and try to twist away, until Vox touches his shoulder and stops him.

“She’s done, Al,” says Vox, his claws gentle in your hair, and you whimper against the warmth of his chest as Alastor releases you. “Hey, babydoll,” murmurs Vox, the proximity of his screen making the hair on the top of your head stand on end. “You good?”

“Y-yeah.” You swallow, language returning to you in bits and pieces, and look at Alastor, who kneels between your legs still, his face glistening with your juices. His eyes are uncertain, and you reach out to him, catching his thin wrists and pulling him to you.

“You’re good at that,” you say, looking up at Alastor as you lie sandwiched between the two of them, Vox’s strong arms around your waist, Vox’s cock pressing into your lower back.

Alastor kisses you, tasting of you, and pulls back, looking pleased with himself. “It’s a lot like torture,” he says, eyes half lidded. “All I need to do is listen to your screams.”

“God fuckin’ damn it, Al,” grouses Vox. “It’s always the horror show stuff with you.”

“God forbid a man have hobbies,” Alastor’s head tilts, but there’s no venom to his reprise. “And for your information,” he adds, a glance at you. “It’s not always torture. I also enjoy dancing.”

You laugh into your hands, the afterglow of your orgasm filling you with a pleasant kind of warmth, and Alastor steals another kiss, grinning all the while.

“What now?”

“Now?” Vox grins, dangerous. “Now it’s your turn, Al.”

Alastor’s smile becomes fixed. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” Vox’s smile grows wider, and he disentangles himself from you, a crackling kiss to the side of your head. “C’mere.”

Alastor gives an undignified squeak as Vox leaps and tackles him into the bedsheets, dexterous claws on the buttons of his shirt and his fly.

“Impudent! I can undress mysel- mm!” Alastor is silenced as Vox catches his chin and kisses him, open mouthed, long blue tongue lapping your juices from Alastor’s chin, and you watch as Alastor melts for the Television Demon, his shoulders going slack, his shadow splaying itself across the pillows. Alastor’s shirt comes off without complaint, and you crawl over to touch him, your hands on his narrow chest, his shoulders, his arms, as Vox undresses him the rest of the way. Alastor’s heart is beating fast; you can feel it through your hand on his sternum, like a butterfly’s wings beating futile against a glass windowpane, but it slows as Vox kisses his back, and Alastor places a clawed hand over yours. “I suppose you both mean to fuck me,” he says, a little sulkily.

“You tryna say you don’t want that, Al?” Vox’s teeth glow as he grins. “You don’t want me to fuck you as the lovely girl here sucks you off?”

Alastor’s smile purses, but he can’t bring himself to say no, not with you staring up at him prettily and Vox growling sweet nothings into his neck.

His cock stands at attention, the tip red and angry, and you take him in your palms before you get on all fours and take him in your mouth, feeling the quiver that runs through his stomach as your mouth envelops him.

“F-fuck,” Alastor hisses, filter failing, his hand in your hair as Vox’s talons circle his narrow waist. He’s sensitive- you can tell that much from your first few sucks, his precum salty and organic tasting, each movement of your tongue drawing soft noises from his throat. Part of that might be Vox working him open, your position in the bed lowering fractionally as Vox pushes Alastor’s knees apart.

“See, you want it, don’t you Al? Gettin’ completely fucked.” You feel Alastor’s talons tighten in your hair as Vox pushes into him, Alastor’s cock twitching against the back of your mouth, and you breathe through your nose, enjoying the feeling of Alastor coming undone.

“Vox!” Alastor’s voice is tight, high in his register, and Vox slows, stroking him and easing him through sensation, the two demons’ hips moving in tandem as Alastor ruts into your mouth, a strangled noise in his throat.

“Say you like it, say we fuck you good,” Vox growls soft, but the only things coming from Alastor’s mouth are obscenities, his senses overwhelmed by the two of you working together.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Alastor’s chest heaves, his eyes screwed shut, his lip bleeding where he has bitten it, his cock hitting the back of your throat with every roll of his hips, a lewd little whimper escaping his lips with the apex of each of Vox’s thrusts.

“There you are,” Vox breathes, seeming to sense Alastor’s imminent climax before Alastor himself. You feel Alastor’s cock swell in your mouth, his grip tightening. “We got you, Al. Let go.”

“Don’t -ngh- tell me what to do,” says Alastor, emptying his load into your mouth, hot and salty. He gasps, and you swallow it down. “Shit.”

“Oh, you’re so good, Al. So fuckin’ good.” Vox’s voice is a groan as he presses his face crackling into Alastor’s hair and starts to fuck him in earnest.

You move your face from Alastor’s cock, and it would be the easiest thing in the world to lay back on the pillows with Alastor’s microphone and watch the show, but instead Alastor grabs your wrists and pins you under him as Vox pushes him to all fours, and Alastor kisses you, unreserved and passionate. He tastes of you, and you of him, small whimpers still escaping him as Vox fucks him. Your fingers are in his hair, over his ears, over his antlers, his thin back, and he holds you to his chest, lips locked with yours as Vox finishes inside him, the three of you shivering with it, the room still in the aftermath.

“Ngh.” Vox’s screen shows a test card for a good twenty seconds. “Fuck.”

“Yes,” Alastor agrees, a slow exhalation as Vox withdraws from him.

The three of you are side by side in the bed for a moment as Vox drops to the sheets. Vox’s breathing is labored, Alastor’s more controlled, and neither of them speak.

Alastor rolls onto his back, turning to Vox. “You’d best wash up.”

“What?” Vox narrows his eyes. “Why?”

“It’s rude,” says Alastor, with a coy smile. “To keep a lady waiting.”

“Oh.” Vox stares at you as if he’s just remembered you are there, face coloring. “Oh. Shit. Yeah. Keep her warm for me, Al.”

Alastor takes his staff back in one hand, and pulls you to him with the other, your head nestled nicely against his bony shoulder as you watch Vox disappear into the bathroom, water running. It feels as if you could both drift off like this, comfortable and satiated, and you almost do, until Alastor’s fingers start tracing a slow line from your knee to your thigh, and your eyes flicker open.

“He’ll be pissy if he finds us asleep,” says Alastor, his tone amused. “So, unless you want to see him blow a fuse-”

You swallow as you feel him part your labia with his fingers, careful with his claws as he drags the pads of his fingers through the slickness that seeps from you. “Is this really the best way to stay awake?”

“Probably not,” admits Alastor. “But it is one of the more entertaining ones, don’t you agree?”

“Very,” you agree, your breath hitching as Alastor’s finger graces the base of your clitoris, drawing a small circle, pressing your flesh against the bone of your pelvis with his fingertips. “I am very entertained right now.”

“A performer is nothing without his audience,” quips Alastor, but his smile seems genuine. You’re wondering how he’s going to manage his claws if he fingers you when he extrudes a long black tentacle from his back. “Open wide now.”

Your legs spread, Alastor strokes your knee, the back of your calf, the arch of your foot, and his tentacle slithers, wrapping fully around the meat of your thigh before its tip teases at your cunt.

He doesn’t penetrate you right away, which is a good thing; ready and willing as you are the tentacle is girthy. Instead, Alastor teases with it, his smile relaxed and his ears pricked as he listens to your breathing, your sighs. Your words, when you are able to use them.

“There, there, just there,” you tell him, and your reward is a squeeze of his hand on your ankle, his breathy voice in your ear, telling you what a good audience you are tonight, how supportive, how participatory. The tentacle moves in tandem with his hand, the tip twirling at your entrance as he strokes the folds of your cunt, dragging slick from your hole up over your clit, coaxing it from its hood, his touch so light that it makes you hold your breath, and then firm, a pressure that has you gasping, moaning so loudly that he holds his microphone to your lips and asks you to repeat yourself.

When Alastor’s tentacle pushes its way into you, you are ready, more than ready, speechless at the girth of it and giving heady little gasps as you feel yourself stretch around him.

“You’d better not reach the climax before Vox gets back,” says Alastor, a soft murmur in your ear as you whimper, senseless against his chest. “He really will blow a fuse if you do that.” He’s enjoying himself, you realize. He’s playing with you, his smile relaxed as he manipulates your body to his liking.

But you are already mounting the summit, your body helpless in Alastor’s clutches. He barely needs to use his fingers, not with the tentacle pressed into you, an obscene squelching noise as he curves it in and out of you; Alastor simply holds his fingertips over the tip of your clit and lets the motion of the tentacle do the rest of the work, each brush of contact with the exposed nub of flesh like a lick of flame across your nerves that makes you cry out, over and over, until your throat is hoarse with it.

You cum as Vox returns, a spasm through your body, your cunt fluttering around Alastor’s tentacle, and the Radio Demon grins at Vox.

If Vox’s eyes weren’t just images displayed on his screen, they would be bulging right now. He stares. Alastor grins at him.

“Al.” Vox’s lips are an annoyed line as he watches Alastor pull his tentacle out of you, your cunt fluttering around nothing. “How the fuck am I meant to compete with that monster?” His cock is well proportioned to his frame, but it’s nothing compared to the tentacle. You look between the two demons, hoping they’re not going to fight.

Alastor’s grin widens. “You’re a resourceful man, Vox. I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

Vox shakes his head as he climbs back on the bed. “You’ve always gotta fuckin’ upstage me, huh.”

“That’s why you like me so much,” says Alastor. “Isn’t it?”

“Ah, fuck you, Al,” says Vox, all bark, and Alastor beams at him.

Alastor pulls you on top of him, your back to him, and hooks his chin over the top of your head, so that you both face Vox when he climbs atop you, on his hands and knees.

Vox kisses you, softly, hand cupping your face, and you feel Alastor’s sound of approval through your back, the low hum of an electrical appliance.

“You ready, babydoll?” Vox asks, and when you nod, he pushes into you.

You feel him. Your orgasm has made you tender, Alastor’s tentacle has made you tender and you feel every inch of Vox as if your cunt were just made yesterday, shipped direct from the factory.

“Oh fuck, that’s nice babydoll.” Fragments of test card float on Vox’s screen as he pauses, in you to the hilt. “You feel fuckin’ nice. Fuckin’ soft, god.”

You feel Alastor huff into your hair with amusement, and he reaches for your legs, pulling up your thighs and then your knees, pulling your legs flush with your chest; a mating press for you and Vox.

Vox grins, his hands joining Alastor’s on the underside of your knees, and he fucks you in earnest.

That his cock is smaller than Alastor’s tentacle doesn’t matter one bit, not when you’re pressed like this, his cock able to reach the deepest parts of your tender cunt with ease. He fucks you, and you cry out; not the mewling whimper you had before but a full throated cry that escapes you at the apex of each thrust, your throat already sore, your voice cracking, but crying out regardless.

Vox’s monologue is all sweet, sweary nothings- you’re doing so good babydoll, so wet for me, so soft, so good, so fuckin’ good and Alastor’s commentary is drier- do you think you’ll be able to walk again after this? Now that’s a scream worthy of my studio, all the while you are crying out, tears in your eyes, a pressure in your abdomen, Vox hammering into the most sensitive parts of you, over and over and oh.

Your cunt flutters again, Vox growling a good girl before his seed floods into you in hot, pulsing waves.

You lie there, boneless, seeing stars, the three of you breathing hard. Vox drops his face onto your chest, and you stroke his hot vents, as you’ve seen Alastor do. Alastor lets go of your legs, a kiss to the top of your head.

“Fuck,” murmurs Vox.

“Seconded,” you croak.

“Mm,” buzzes Alastor. “Quite.”

Vox rolls off you, and you roll off Alastor, the three of you side by side on the bed, points of contact between you; your leg crossing Alastor’s thigh, Vox’s arm across your stomach.

It is a long, hazy moment before Vox sits up, digging through the dresser on the Vox side of the bed, and pulls out a pack of cigarettes.

“In the apartment?” Alastor complains, sleepy.

“It’s a fuckin’ special occasion, Al,” says Vox, leaning over you to place a cigarette between Alastor’s smiling lips. Alastor takes it, and Vox lights it, before offering the box to you. “You smoke?” he asks.

If you didn’t already, it was a hell of a time to start.

[adrift-in-thyme]

Fairy!Time and Minish!Four with the situation being one of the Colors is injured so they can't reform Four or return to normal size

Four and Time my beloveds. I fully intend to write more scenes with them in the future

Fic beneath the cut

Cw for blood and injury

Vio lies on his side on the ground, curled in on himself. Every inhale is a choked hiccup; every exhale shudders. He is as pale as the pearly white wildflowers that tower above them, piercing the sky. The blood that runs down from his middle, coursing past crimson-drenched fingers, is in stark contrast to the emerald blades of grass that wall them in.

“This is bad,” Red chokes, hand pressed to his mouth.

“You think?” Blue snaps. “We can’t go reform with Vio injured! And we definitely can’t revert to normal size!”

Green watches the two of them argue as he kneels beside Vio, the hero’s head propped on his lap.

“But you can heal him.” He tears his gaze from them, sets it on the god-torn face of his friend. “Right?”

Time doesn’t look up. His attention is on the violet clad boy, hands hovering over the wound.

“Yes,” he says, calmly.

His wings wave gently. They are spread on either side of him like a protective barrier between the four shards of one and the outside world. Dire as the situation may be, Green can’t stop his gaze from flicking to them repeatedly. They gleam in the midday sun, panes of stained glass the color of the sky, of blood.

“I can heal him.”

The others grow quiet at his somber words. Vio’s breath hitches.

“It will take much of you-your strength though, won’t it?” Even pain and blood loss cannot dim the gleam in Vio’s eyes. Always thinking. Always analyzing.

“Your wings…you’re n-not a normal fairy.”

Time smiles, soft and grim. “That much is true.”

The dust floating around him like a halo grows thicker, more potent. Time’s eye slides shut. His fingertips graze the very edges of the ragged river carved through Vio.

“And healing is not as easy for me as it is for some of my kin. I am skilled at it, nonetheless.” He sighs and the exhale seems to echo in Green’s aching ears. “Remain still. I promise it won’t hurt.”

There is not much to show that the healing is taking place. Only the slight spread of the thickened fairy dust, a dim glow traveling from Time’s hands to Vio’s wound. But Green stares anyway. All of them do.

He has seen — and felt — a fairy heal his wounds more than once, both as a whole being and while split. Watching his friend do it, however, his brother whom he had never guessed harbored such a secret (and whom had willingly shared this secret in order to find and rescue them), is different.

And the feel of it, the ease of the pangs that had gradually grown in his abdomen the longer Vio suffered, is more gentle, more caring than any other fairy prior.

When the older hero pulls back and the glow disappears, Green hardly knows it. The magic fades in dying whispers, a mere breeze that calmed a hurricane. He is left soothed, painless in its wake.

“You will need to rest,” Time murmurs, exhaustion thick in his tone. “But the danger is passed. If you wish to reunite, I think the only side effect would be fatigue.” He inclines his head. “Only you truly understand the nature of the magic you all use, however. If you don’t yet feel ready to become one and regain your original size, I will stay with you until you are.”

Vio blinks dazedly up at him. There is more color in his cheeks now that the bleeding has stopped.

“Thank you,” he whispers. “But there is no need for you to stay.”

“You’ve done so much,” Red puts in.

Blue nods. “We can take care of ourselves now.”

“We will reform once Vio’s rested,” Green says. Even to his tired eyes, Time looks ready to collapse. To mend such a severe wound could not have been a simple feat. “And then we’ll head back to camp. We’ll be alright, I promise.”

Time gazes at them all. Then, he smiles.

“Would a little company really be so terrible?” He cocks his head. “I would like to know more about these powers of yours, if you’re willing to share.”

“Of course, we would enjoy your company,” Green says with a grin. “And we would be happy to explain our power to you.”

“Only if you’re up for explaining yours,” Blue remarks, flopping down beside the two other pieces of himself. Red follows suit.

Time chuckles. “My secret is already known. There is no reason to hold back what I know of this form.”

Vio’s eyes brighten anew with that intelligent fire of his. And Green can’t help but smile as he asks his questions — voice growing stronger with each one — and Time, aglow with magic, wings still reflecting the sun in jagged prisms of warning…begins to answer them.

[walrus150915]

cw: discussions of nonsexual grooming

There is one thing that has been spinning on my mind ever since I watched the movie. This conversation isn't that popular in the fandom, probably due to its uncomfortable subject matter, but it needs to be discussed. I'll be the one to start

The Director has groomed Ambrosius and it affected him far into adulthood

(A really long analysis post)

Warning: I'm not a psychologist neither am I really educated in this sphere, and I never was a victim of grooming, so don't take my words as 100% truth. However, I'm a literature student, so I can analyse a few scenes and make a conclusion lol

So, to start off, let's share the definition of grooming, shall we?

"Grooming is when someone builds a relationship, trust and emotional connection with a child or young person so they can manipulate, exploit and abuse them."

Now, of course Ambrosius is an adult in the movie, and we can't exactly know his entire history with the Director. So this analysis will take a few things as truth despite them not being confirmed

- the Director has been by Ambrosius's side throughout most of his life. Considering the fact that she's been around even when Ballister was a child, the same can be assumed about Ambrosius

- we as viewers do not see Ambrosius's parents (because this is quite unnecessary to the narrative, maybe we'll see them in a sequel Quane and Bruno were teasing buttt¯\_(ツ)_/¯), and he's been in the Institute since childhood, so it seems like the Director was the most reliable adult in Ambrosius's life

Despite Ambrosius being a grown man, the effect the Director has on him cannot be denied. His relationship to the Director is like half his character arc, the man being torn between his loyalty to the kingdom and his lover

I will take a few scenes from the movie where Ambrosius and the Director interact and try to analyse them

Starting off strong, we've got the "acting like common children" scene. I could point out the obvious bias the Director puts in her words (villainizing an oppressed group of people as a rich white woman in power how nice of her) but we ain't coming to her throat for classism today. Pay attention to her praising Ambrosius and singling him out. "Thankfully, we have a descendant of Gloreth to lead us"

Are other knights happy to be around Ambrosius tho? The answer is no

(Text below is taken from the screenplay. The scene is after Nimona's and Bal's escape)

***

Knights: I knew we never should have trusted Ballister./If Goldenloin hadn't trusted him.../Well, if Goldenloin hadn't helped him...

***

Todd: This is his fault!

Knights: Yeah!/Tell him, Todd!

Goldenloin realizes all eyes are on him

***

I think it wouldn't be wrong to assume Ambrosius's colleagues dislike him at best and outcast him at worst. Compared to Todd, who seems to be the more liked one amongst their peers (bro really is a jock bully high school stereotype in his 20s isn't that embarrassing), Ambrosius is isolated. He doesn't have anybody except Ballister and the Director. And as you all know Ballister and Ambrosius are separated for the most of the movie. So it leaves him with the Director as the closest person to interact with. Yeah...

Also in this scene she displays TWO tactics groomers use to manipulate their victims: isolation and favouritism

Another scene I'd like to pay attention to is Ambrosius's ✨iconic✨ freak out

"What's on your mind, Ambrosius? You can talk to me"

"...I'm fine, Director"

This scene actually left me confused on the first watch because it looks like a perfect moment for the Director to seem at least somewhat sympathetic. It truly seems like she cares about him

Honestly it's pretty hard for me to surely say whether or not she's being sincere or not but her goal is definitely to win over Ambrosius's trust, to make him believe she's a safe person (now that his real safe person is away ajdjdjj). That is also another tactic for groomers to manipulate their victims

And I think it would be fair to mention Director's attitude towards Ballister's and Ambrosius's relationship. It's obvious she knows about them (...not like it's rocket science have you seen these lovebirds) and disapproves. She doesn't outright state it but it's really clear

"Sir Goldenloin, is your loyalty to this Kingdom or to the knight who consorts with a monster?"

Again, amazing case of manipulation. She doesn't say Institute, nor "me" or whatever. She says kingdom. And she clearly knows that it works on Ambrosius, because he is, after all, Gloreth's descendant. Gloreth was the original protector, and Ambrosius is supposed to be the protector now. By choosing Ballister he betrays the kingdom, his bloodline and Gloreth

Now, I know this scene is not Ambrosius & the Director because it's Nimona in disguise but considering how good Nimona was in playing her part we might as well assume real Ambrosius would act the same.

Look at these eyes. He's afraid of her. She has the complete power over him. And Ballister is aware of this (if that's how he told Nimona to act)

Off-topic but I watched Nimona with two of my buddies yesterday and during this scene they both went like "Wait, who is she to Ambrosius again? Is she his mother? Because she acts like she one" and they are so damn right???

Now remember the fact that during one of the interviews Eugene Lee Yang said that the Director is Ambrosius's parental figure. Do with this information whatever you wanna do

I'm still not over her audacity in this scene. Her lip didn't even twitch and she's killing a person whom she praised for his bloodline. Saying "May Gloreth forgive you" while DRIVING A SWORD THROUGH HIM is beyond evil like??? Chill out Nancy Reagan???

I could say that this is the scene that debacles the American model minority myth (with East Asians being put on a pedestal and used to further reinforce white supremacy). A white woman killing an East Asian man while using a Christ-like figure to justify her actions (Gloreth is literally mentioned to be a Christ figure in the art book), and, if we take into account the theory that she wanted to set Ballister up so that it looks like he killed Ambrosius, BLAMING IT ON A BROWN ASIAN MAN was really a choice huh

The Director killed Ambrosius the second he questioned her, the second he wasn't useful to her

And how was he being useful to her? Allow me to introduce you to the scene which made me SUPER uncomfortable once I realized what was going on

During most of the movie Ambrosius acts rather impulsively, reflexes play a big part in his body language. And what does he do? He protects her with his body

"We need to get you to safety!"

Ambrosius was trained in a way that he needed to protect the Director with his body and his life.

Even in scenes where Ambrosius and the Director don't interact you can see how much Ambrosius is brainwashed.

"She manipulated you. She manipulated both of us. But together we'll take her down, you'll be a knight again"

"Thank you. The Director can't-"

"The Director? Oh, no, Bal. I'm talking about your sidekick"

Ambrosius refuses to even think about the effect the Director has on him. He's insisting on Nimona being the manipulator despite him being manipulated

Finally, when Ambrosius realizes something is CLEARLY wrong, he still tries to talk some sense into her

"But what if we're wrong? What if we've always been wrong?"

Despite him being a constant witness to Director's misdeeds he tries to do everything peacefully. Look at his face. This is a face of a man who doesn't want to harm. He gives the Director a chance to improve herself. I think he would forgive her after everything she's done

...but being a conservative she'd rather explode than admit she's wrong. So she attempts to kill Ambrosius again

This, again, says that no matter how much mercy you show to hateful people, they'll continue to be horrible to you. Just because they think they have a right to

Analysing Ambrosius's and the Director's relationship I think it'd be more than valid to state that she has, indeed, groomed Ambrosius to exploit and use him for her own (political and other) benefits. Other knights were brainwashed and groomed too, but something about her attitude towards Ambrosius really bugged me the wrong way

She is an excellent manipulator and Ambrosius fell victim to that, which is no surprise

Thank you for reading this! It took so long to make😭 If you want to add on anything in the reblogs please do, because the discussion HAS to happen at some point

[negrowhat]

What are the top three shows you are watching right now?

Hey Anon! Hmmm my top 3 current series???

Wandee Goodday. I love every single thing about this series! I love that these two idiots are already in love and pretending to be in love while fake being in love with other people. It's a messy little love square but not really. I think Wandee is a sweet and talented doctor whose competitive streak raises some concerns and I think Yoryak is one of the kindest green flag bisexuals out there. I hope the relationship balances out as they get closer and become more real. I enjoy the sex positive tone of the series and how it promotes safe and communicative sex and bonus points for having a canon ACE character with ACE people problems. so far the series is a 10/10.

My Stand-In. What a messy ass toxic ass series. And I eat up every bit of it every single week. I love to hate Ming but secretly I'm rooting for them. But I'm also looking forward to Joe making him work to get him back. Ming is an asshole and I don't think it's going to change but he realizes the bag he's fumbled and he's going to work hard to get Joe to return to him. Joe has the opportunity to take back his power and do things his way this second time around. I love Joe to bits but I view him as I did Mark from Love Mechanics; you can't save that hoe until he wants to be saved. Tong can choke tho. Also Sol is a good noodle and I want nothing but the best for him.

City Boy_Log. The way this fake lil vlog-style Korean BL has me choked up. It is soooooooooo messy the way reality tv is messy. Jaejun doesn't know who are what he wants but he always seems to gravitate towards Jihan. And Jihan is just a big ole softie who goes for what he wants and tells it like it is. It's interesting to see Jaejun make the absolute worst decisions and still find a way to be cute and charming and make Jihan (and me) forgive him. I just want him and Jihan to be happy. Also I find it interesting that the actors are using their real names for this fake almost alternate reality it is a very delicate line to walk and at any moment could truly backfire in the Korean media.

[matan4il]

911 ep 710 first watch reactions

Ha, so Chris is upset, Eddie is distraught and his go to person is Buck, who drops everything else and comes over right away. And not for the first, or second, or third time. Yes, this is exactly how every platonic friendship I've ever had has played out.

The way Buck reads Eddie, knows him so well, that Buck can vocalize the part that Eddie can't say out loud right away... Soul mates.

"What you always do." Married soul mates.

LOL The way Hen and Chim don't even blink when Buck and Eddie show up at the hospital together, like the married couple they are. XD

This group of fire fighters being the best amateur detectives on TV since the Scooby Doo gang will never not be funny. Also, highly implausible, but that just makes it funnier.

"You go to hell!" "You first!" So 911 was having a western kink kinda month, and decided to set up this very likely storyline, just to be able to quote Tombstone? Hmmm.

"This one, we both walk out of." See, 911 is the show where I can roll my eyes 30 times during a storyline, but the climax moment still gets to me with its humaneness. That's the show's power. And the follow up reunion with Bobby! I had no doubt he'd live, but it was still very emotional to walk with Athena down the hospital hallway into his room and get to not only see, but also feel it.

"Bobby is the father I've never had." We know, but it was still nice to hear. "Your father's alive." Oh, Tommy. How little you understand Buck. "So maybe we both have daddy issues." "I don't." "But you think I do." "God, I hope so." lol Is this supposed to be flirting? If so, it's so off the mark for me, the dart ended up in outer space. I mean, Buck obviously has daddy issues, and I guess whoever needed that confirmed can celebrate (I'm sure there will be even more fics digging into this now), but pointing that out in the middle of a date is hardly the sexy move this ep's writer seems to think it is? IDK, I'm obviously a Buddie shipper, I like BuckTommy better than any other r/s Buck's had with a non-Eddie person, I do enjoy it as a part of Buck's journey (and I also generally believe in ship and let ship, even when something isn't my endgame), but even if I was a BuckTommy shipper, IDK that I would have liked that line. Especially when it treads a bit close to the issues I had with the BuckAbby r/s, which the show has never properly addressed. Oh, well. I'm still mostly amused that someone thought this was a great flirty line.

"He's 13, he should have a say!" To be heard? Yes. To have the final say? No. He's 13, not 18. There's a reason why at that age, we don't let kids make decisions for themselves yet. Also, the Diaz parents trying to pretend like the fact that Chris suggested him living with them for a while isn't their secret fantasy come true (or that they have no past where they hurt their son with this idea) is just crude. Also, hinting to Eddie that if he doesn't let Chris run away from his problems, then he'll be just like Ramon, is fucked up.

Also, kinda hilarious that Buck and Eddie's daddy issues are both brought up in the same ep. Sometimes being soul mates means exactly that, getting your partner perfectly because you have the same emotional baggage.

So, Chris is leaving, and the first one to talk to him on screen since the Kim debacle, and since he got the green light to go, is Buck? And Buck's also still there for the actual parting moment? Speaking of actual dads rather than bio ones...

I really liked Eddie just hugging Chris, using no words. There might not be anything he can say to fix this right now, but he still loves his son more than anything, and he can still let Christopher know that. And then when the message didn't get through, even though he's not a words person, Eddie managed to verbalize it. Don't mind me, I'll just be bawling quietly in the corner.

Buck's comforting hand on Eddie's shoulder is the real MVP. <3

I'm glad Mara's back in touch with Hen, Karen and Denny, but this feels a bit like a "deus ex machina" moment, even if it's just to wrap up the season finale, and not the final resolution of this storyline.

Bobby and Amir are actually so similar. They both lost everything, they both were at their lowest, they both chose to help others when they had nothing else left to live for. That handshake was a nice ending to their story, and it did feel more "earned" for not coming quickly or easily.

Ha, that ending. It's a good twist of events as a build up for season 8, it's just interesting because 911 doesn't usually do end of season cliff hangers. I also feel like, knowing the show, I can already predict more or less how it will turn out, so I'm not even feeling that much suspense. But it's not a bad turn of events, so long as it works for most viewers, I suppose. Overall, I enjoyed most of season 7, it feels revitalized, better paced and structured (despite being shorter) than seasons 5 and 6, and I have no doubt everyone will flock back to see how things unfold in season 8. Especially when this season was a nice reminder of everything this show can do right, and why we love these characters and fire family so much.

Thank you for reading! If you’re looking for more, you can find my s7 reactions tag here, and more of my Buddie meta and content in my pinned post. xoxox

[cera-writes]

hey hey hey! I’ve already requested a fic from you before so no pressure to write any of this, but I was wondering if you could write some Gambit smut that focuses on his fingers or his hair? Idk I’m kinda obsessed with his gloves and his long hair they’re important to me. Or if you could indulge me, some Nightcrawler stuff(smut or not smut up to you) with some religious stuff? Sincerely, a fan with a bit of a thing about religious symbolism (again, no pressure to write any of this, kind of silly requests)

A/N: Oooooh, anon. YES. 🤤 Pairing: Remy Lebeau x AFAB!Reader Tags: nsfw, fingering, hair grabbing, bondage, one night stand, focusing on Remy's hands~ Prompt: Reader has a thing for some of Remy's other assets and he shows the reader how he uses them ;) Song inspo: Taste-Ari Abdul

The Hand that Deals

"What's your pleasure tonight, cher?" the smooth, Cajun-accented voice of the handsome man asked, leaning against the doorway of the dimly lit bedroom suite. His piercing eyes locked onto yours, lidded with desire as they traced over your body, taking in every curve. "D'you crave da touch of Gambit's fingers? Or perhaps you can't resist the allure of Gambit's long, silky hair?"

The smirk that played upon his lips was simultaneously playful and devilish, leaving you breathless with anticipation. Remy LeBeau, also known as Gambit, was every bit as charming and seductive as you had imagined, and tonight, he belonged to you. He'd promised you a night of fun, and you weren't about to turn him down on that offer.

Struggling to find your voice, you managed a sultry whisper, "I want... I want to experience everything you have to offer." Your heart raced as you took a step closer, drawn to him like a moth to flame.

Gambit chuckled, low and husky, as he reached out to cup your face with his gloved hand. "Then, mon amie, prepare yourself for a night you'll never forget," he promised, his thumb stroking your cheekbone with a tenderness that belied his roguish demeanor.

As he led you to the plush king-sized bed, your gaze fell upon his gloved hands, their supple leather almost glowing in the ambient light. The fingers of his right hand moved deftly, seemingly effortlessly, as he shuffled and reshuffled a deck of cards. Your mouth watered at the sight, anticipating the feel of those gloved fingers against your skin. Gods. He had you weak.

Remy watched you watching him, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. With a grace born of years of practice, he tossed the cards into the air, where they seemed to hang suspended for a moment before raining down upon the bed, covering the sheets in a colorful blanket of kings, queens, and jacks.

He turned his attention back to you, languidly bearing down upon you until you found yourself lying on the bed, your head resting on a pillow strewn with playing cards. "Now," he purred, "let's see what kinda hand fate has dealt us tonight."

His right hand came to rest on your hip, his gloved fingers toying with the hem of your dress, tracing idle patterns along your skin. The heat emanating from his touch sent shivers down your spine, making you arch into his caress. You let a hiss of surprise and something akin to anticipation slip past your lips.

As if sensing your desire, Gambit began to slide the fabric of your dress upwards, revealing your thighs, then your hips, and finally your waist. Your breath came in ragged gasps as his fingers danced higher, inching closer to the apex of your thighs with each pass.

You couldn't help but moan as his gloved fingertips grazed your mound, teasing you with featherlight touches that left you desperate for more. Remy chuckled at your response, clearly enjoying the power he held over you.

His touch became more insistent, his fingers delving between your folds with an expertise that made your head spin. You bucked your hips, seeking more pressure, more friction, anything to quell the burning desire that threatened to consume you.

And then, just as you thought you couldn't take any more, Gambit pulled back abruptly, leaving you whimpering with need. "Not so fast, mon amie," he admonished, grinning wickedly. "We got all night. Hope you can keep up, chere."

With agonizing slowness, he slipped his fingers into his mouth, coating them with his saliva. The sight of his tongue darting out to catch a stray drop sent a jolt of electricity straight to your core. "Tonight, your pleasure is Gambit's pleasure," he murmured, leaning in to kiss you deeply, invading your mouth with his tongue.

His fingers returned to your center, now slick and warm, gliding effortlessly over your sensitive flesh. You cried out into his mouth as he circled your clit with expert precision, each touch sending waves of pleasure coursing through you.

Just when you thought you couldn't bear it any longer, Gambit slipped one finger inside you, curling it forward to find that spot deep within that sent you careening over the edge. Your orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, crashing over you in relentless waves as he continued to stroke you with a rhythm that seemed to echo the pounding of your heart.

As your tremors subsided, Remy pulled away, giving you a moment to catch your breath. His red and black eyes twinkled with mischief as he rocked back on his heels, regarding you with a smug grin. "That, mon amie, was jus' the warm-up. You ready for more?"

You nod, unable to find your voice as your body still hums with pleasure from the intense orgasm he gave you. Remy chuckles and leans in close, his breath warm on your ear. "Good," he whispers, "cause Gambit ain't done witchu' yet."

He pulls away, rising to his feet in one fluid motion. His gloved hands slide into the pockets of his trench coat, and he saunters over to the side table, where a deck of cards lies waiting. He picks up the deck and begins to shuffle them with practiced ease, the cards fluttering between his fingers like a flock of birds taking flight.

Your gaze is transfixed by the hypnotic motion of his hands as he performs a series of intricate card tricks, each one more impressive than the last. You can't help but wonder how those same fingers could make you feel such exquisite pleasure.

When he finishes his display, he turns back to you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Now, let's see what kinda hand fate has dealt us tonight," he says, dealing a single card onto the bed between you. It's the Ace of Spades.

"Hmm," he muses, tapping the card with a long, gloved finger. "Dis a very interestin' card. It represents both beginnings and endings, life and death... and in dis case, pleasure and pain."

A shiver runs down your spine as he says the last words, but you can't help feeling excited at the prospect of whatever he has in store for you next.

Gambit reaches out with his right hand, gently cupping your chin and tilting your head back. "I want you to keep your eyes on mine while I touch you," he commands softly. "Don' look away, no matter what happens. Can you do dat for me, ma chere?"

You swallow hard, conflicting emotions warring within you, but ultimately, you nod your agreement. Remy's gaze holds yours captive as he trails his left hand down your body, tracing lazy patterns across your skin with his fingertips.

Every time his gloved fingers brush against you, it sends a jolt of electricity through your entire being, making you quiver with anticipation. He takes his time, exploring every inch of your body, teasing you with featherlight touches that leave you aching for more.

Finally, he reaches the apex of your thighs, his fingers hovering just above your center. You can't help but moan as he begins to circle your clit, alternating between light, teasing touches and firmer, more insistent pressure.

Your eyes are locked on his, the intensity of his gaze matching the building heat within you. You feel yourself growing wetter with every passing second, desperate for release, but he doesn't seem to be in any hurry.

"Please," you whisper, your voice barely audible. "I need..."

Remy smirks, leaning in to kiss you deeply, his tongue probing your mouth as if searching for the secrets hidden there. He breaks the kiss abruptly, leaving you gasping for air. "Whatchu need, mon amie?" he asks innocently, resuming his torturous ministrations.

"I need you to fuck me," you blurt out, your inhibitions melting away under the weight of your desire. Remy raises an eyebrow, looking impressed by your boldness.

"Well, since you asked so nicely..." He slips two fingers inside you, curling them forward to find that spot deep within that sends you careening over the edge once again. This time, he doesn't stop, pumping his fingers in and out of you relentlessly as you writhe beneath him, caught in the grip of another powerful orgasm.

As your tremors subside, Gambit pulls away, sucking on each of his fingers as he regards you with a self-satisfied smirk. "Dat was just the appetizer," he purrs, reaching for something behind him. When he brings his hand back into view, he's holding a length of silky, black rope. "Now, let's see what else we can get up to, shall we?"

Despite begging for Remy to fuck you, the man refused to give in to your pleadings, instead continuing to tantalize and tease you with his fingers. You cried out your frustration as you writhed on the bed, crashing against wave after wave of delicious agony.

Remy's handiwork left you barely able to catch your breath before he yanked on the rope, drawing taught against your sensitive skin. The rush of sensation sent your mind reeling, and you moaned in desperation, calling out for him to finish what he started.

"D'ya have any idea how beautiful you look right now, chere?" Remy whispered, his breath hot on your neck as he tightened the knot around your wrists. "All tied up and beggin' for Gambit's touch. Mon dieu, it drives me wild."

The ropes bit into your delicate skin, sending a tingle of pleasure-pain rippling through your body. Your senses were heightened, every nerve ending alive with expectation as you awaited his next move.

Remy stepped back, admiring his handiwork, a devilish grin splitting his features as he looked you up and down. "Y'know, Gambit has always been partial to a good ol' fashion game o' cat and mouse," he mused, circling the bed like a predator stalking its prey.

You shuddered as the realization hit you; You were the mouse, and Remy was the cat, ready to pounce when the moment was right.

"But Gambit thinks tonight, he'll be da mouse," he continued, shrugging off his trench coat and letting it fall to the floor. Next came his magenta armor underneath, revealing a simple, form-fitting black shirt that clung to his chiseled physique. Beneath the fabric, you could see the outline of his toned muscles, making your mouth water in anticipation.

As Remy completed his transformation, shedding his clothes and revealing the exquisite form hidden beneath, you felt your heart race, anticipation turning to desperation as you yearned for his touch once more.

"Look at'chu, so eager and anxious," he purred, crawling onto the bed and trailing a single finger down the curve of your spine. " Gambit can't decide if he should give you whatchu want or make you wait jus' a little bit longer."

You whimpered, arching your back to meet his touch, unsure if you could handle any more delay. Your entire body throbbed with desire, and even the lightest brush of his fingers sent shivers racing through you.

Remy laughed, the sound low and dangerous as he straddled your hips, his long, silky hair cascading over you like a dark curtain. "Oh, Gambit think he knows exactly whatchu need," he murmured, leaning down to whisper in your ear. "An' he'll give it to you... on one condition."

You turned your head, meeting his gaze with a mixture of need and fear, desperate to know what he wanted from you. Remy grinned again, his teeth flashing white in the dim light of the room. "I wan'chu to beg for it, chere."

You whimper in response, knowing that you'll do anything to satisfy him, to feel his touch once more. "Please, Remy," you moan, your voice shaky with need. "I need you inside me. I can't take it anymore."

His grin widens at your plea, and he traces a finger along the curve of your spine. "Good girl," he whispers. "But Gambit thinks we need to make things a little more... interestin'."

With a flick of his wrist, Remy conjures a deck of cards. He begins to shuffle them deftly, the sound of paper on paper filling the room. Your eyes track the movement of his fingers, transfixed by the skill on display.

"Now, here's da game," Remy says, holding up the deck. "Gambit's gonna deal out a poker hand. If you get a pair or better, Gambit'll give you whatchu been beggin' for all night."

Your heart races at the thought of being so close to satisfaction, yet still having to prove yourself. "And if I don't?" you ask, dreading the answer.

Remy laughs, a dark and dangerous sound. "Well, den I guess you'll jus' have to keep waitin'," he says, his eyes glinting with amusement.

You nod, knowing there's no other choice. Remy deals out five cards onto your stomach, their faces turned away from you. You hesitate for a moment, unsure of what to do next.

"Go on," Remy urges. "Flip em' over."

Slowly, you turn over the first card: the ace of spades. Your heart skips a beat – a good start. The second card is revealed: the king of hearts. Still in contention.

The third card is the queen of diamonds, followed by the jack of clubs. Four high cards - not bad. But it all hinges on the final card.

With shaking hands, you flip over the fifth card: the ten of hearts. A full house! You've done it!

"Ha!" Remy exclaims, looking genuinely surprised. "Impressive. I didn't think you had it in you."

He leans down, his lips inches from yours. "Alright, since you won fair and square, Gambit'll give you whatchu been askin' for."

Remy undoes the ropes around your wrists, watching with interest as you rub the feeling back into your hands.

Finally, he unties your ankles, and you stretch your legs, reveling in the newfound freedom. Remy stands back, admiring your naked form, his eyes roaming over every inch of your skin.

"Now that you're loose," he says, a hint of mischief in his voice, "it's time to see if you can really handle what I have to offer."

With that, he quickly strips off his clothes, revealing his toned and muscular physique. Your eyes are drawn to the bulge in his briefs, and you can't help but lick your lips in anticipation.

Remy steps closer, until he's standing right beside the bed. He slips his fingers into his hair, pulling it free from its tie, allowing the long locks to cascade down his back. "Grab onto Gambit's hair, ma chere" he commands, his voice low and rough.

You don't hesitate, reaching up and wrapping your fingers around his silky mane. The texture is unlike anything you've ever felt before, and the scent of him fills your nostrils, making your head spin. He's so sexy.

Remy smiles, clearly pleased with your enthusiasm. "Now, hold on tight," he says, positioning himself between your thighs.

With one swift motion, he thrusts his cock deep inside you, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body. You cry out in ecstasy, your fingers clenching even tighter around his hair as he begins to move, pumping in and out with increasing speed.

Each powerful thrust sends electric jolts of pleasure racing through your veins, and you can't help but moan and writhe beneath him, your body instinctively responding to his every move.

Remy's fingers find your clit, rubbing and teasing as he continues to fuck you with reckless abandon. The sensations are too much to bear, and you feel yourself building towards a powerful climax.

"Oh fuckkk!" You scream out, wrapping your legs around his waist and gripping his hair tight in your fists.

"That's it," Remy growls, his voice barely recognizable as he pushes you closer and closer to the edge. "C'est ça chérie. Laisse-moi te sentir exploser autour de ma bite."

You know he's close. All that teasing had riled him up and you knew he wouldn't last inside of you too much longer. He rails you faster, sloppier, as he thrusts a few more times before you clench around him.

With a final powerful thrust, he sends you hurtling over the precipice, your body convulsing in the throes of an intense orgasm. Remy groans as he feels your inner walls clench around him, and with a few more quick strokes, he joins you in bliss, his release pouring deep inside you.

As you both lie there, spent and satiated, Remy's fingers lazily trace patterns on your skin. Despite the intense sexual encounter, you can't help but feel a sense of connection with him, a bond forged through shared pleasure.

For now, though, you're content to simply enjoy the afterglow, basking in the warmth of his touch and the knowledge that, for tonight at least, you got exactly what you desired.

[running-in-the-dark]

.

[javiscigarette]

Teacher's Pet

Joel Miller x virgin f!reader

Summary: 25 years old, anxiety-ridden, and still a virgin, you ask your friend Joel for advice on your upcoming date. But you're more of a...hands-on learner. And he's more than happy to help. 

Warnings: PWP, unbalanced power dynamics, virgin!reader, neighbor/bff/more experienced! Joel, age gap, first kiss, virginity loss, fingering, oral (f receiving), frequent check-ins, soo much banter and Joel is a menace also so soft and sweet :')....(ends on a cliffhanger but there will be a part two I swear).

w/c: 7.7k idk what happened

a/n: I am resurfacing for your monthly reminder that I do in fact still write!! Inspiration for this came out of literally nowhere but I took it and RAN with it and I think I like it?? As always, thank you to my baby love @undrthelights for helping me with this and always listening to my rambling and for being my biggest enabler Ilysm

Part Two

my masterlist

"Fine! What if, hypothetically speaking of course, you were to, hypothetically, give me a, um, hypothetical, lesson or whatever." Your heart is pounding so hard you can feel your pulse throb in your neck pound in your ears. You slowly drag your hands away from your face and look at him. He stares right back at you, brows furrowed. "A what?" "Forget it. forget I said anything,” you mutter, shaking your head.  "No no wait, hang on, what do you mean? A lesson? Like a…a sex lesson?” 

"Seriously, Joel. Fuck off" you snap but with no bite or heat behind it. You bring the sweating bottle of beer to your lips and finish the rest of the now lukewarm liquid off in one gulp. 

"What? I just find it hard to believe that you've never even had a kiss. Didn't you go to high school? Didn't you ever get invited to a party? Didn't you go to college? College kids do the do like all the time” 

"Clearly not all the time" you mutter, a tad bitterly.

Joel raises his hands defensively and takes a sip of his own beer. "Just seems crazy is all. There's gotta be some chick or dude out there willing to take pity on you and pop your cherry."

You audibly gag at his choice of words. "I don't need a pity fuck, thanks." You stand from the couch and head over to the fridge. The bottles of cold alcohol inside are calling your name and you want something that will help soothe your nerves. You're not a big drinker, but when Joel is prying into your love life like he is now, you wish you were.

"Okay,” he starts from the living room. “Maybe I worded that wrong. What I meant to say was, there's gotta be someone out there who would be more than willing to show you a good time."

You groan and let your forehead fall against the fridge door. "That's the whole point! I came here to get advice for my date, someone who might actually be interested in me, and all you've done is make fun of me for not having fucked anyone yet. So thanks, Joel. You're a real pal."

You push away from the fridge and slam the door shut, a second beer in hand.

"Alright, alright, calm down." He says, hands in the air as if you were holding him at gunpoint as you head back to the couch. "Look, if this guy really likes you then he's not gonna care. Probably won't even be able to tell if you are or aren't."

"You think so?" You ask hopefully.

"Well, I mean, unless you're like... super bad."

Your heart drops into your stomach and you glare at him, "Joel."

"Oh come on, I'm kidding. You're not gonna be bad, okay? Just, go into it with an open mind and just relax. If he tries something you're not comfortable with or makes you feel weird, tell him. And if he gets pissy, dump his ass."

"That simple, huh?" You scoff.

"Well, yeah. You're the one who made it complicated by thinking it was a big deal."

"It is a big deal, Joel! I know nothing!

"Nothing? You ain’t ever watched porn? Jesus, I had no idea you were such a prude."

You can't stop yourself from rolling your eyes and slapping the back of your hand against his arm. He yelps and laughs, rubbing his arm.

"I've watched porn before" you retort. 

"What kind?" he asks with a wiggle of his brows.

"None of your fucking business" you respond, feeling your face heat up.

Joel's lips quirk into a shit-eating grin and you're quick to smack him again.

"Okay okay, sorry!" he says through his laughter. "So what exactly are you afraid of?"

You're not really sure how to answer. It's a combination of so many things, most of which are irrational fears and insecurities. Sure you've seen it all done before, but you're well aware that none of it is realistic. At least, not completely. And just the fact that you're freshly 25 years old without a single notch in your bedpost makes you dizzy with anxiety. It's not like you're saving yourself or anything, it's just that hook up culture has never agreed with you and there's never been an opportunity that made you feel like it was the right one. That is until now, with your cute coworker who you thought was miles out of your league asking you out on a third date. And now, the prospect of being in bed with him is looming over you like a dark cloud and the last thing you want to do is mess it up.

"I guess, I'm just afraid that he's gonna be disappointed, or I'm gonna weird him out, or I'm gonna do something wrong and embarrass myself.” Joel nods along and listens. "And if it is bad then we still have to work with each other and then what if it's awkward and everyone knows about it and then he hates me and--"

"Okay, whoa slow down there, buddy" Joel says, putting a hand on your shoulder. "One, you're overthinking this. You're literally thinking like, five steps ahead of what's actually going on. It's a date. And even if it does end up in the bedroom, you don't have to do anything you don't want to. No one's forcing you, okay? He can't. No one can."

"I know, but I want to," you reply quietly.

"Alright. Then do."

"I don't know howwww!! " you whine, flopping backwards into the couch.

Joel groans and sits up a little straighter, scrubbing a hand down his face. 

"Well, there's no magic trick, I don't have a secret sex manual I'm holding out on ya."

You sigh, shoulders sagging as you look over at him. The idea comes out of nowhere, well, not exactly from nowhere, but it pops in your head so fast that you then have to bite your tongue before the words bubbling up from your throat come tumbling out. 

It's not a bad idea, not necessarily. 

You've been good friends with Joel ever since you moved in next door last year. An unlikely pairing, a 40 year old contractor and an almost 25 year old office worker. But after offering him a six pack as part of introducing yourself to the neighbors, you'd gotten along fabulously. He fixes things around your house and you send him home with hot dinners and warm, gooey cookies and you watch movies together almost every Friday night.

 It's an easy friendship, open and honest and supportive, and Joel has never given you reason not to trust him. He's a good guy, if not a little brash, but you know deep down he means well. And it doesn't hurt that he's objectively attractive, with his tall and sturdy frame, strong, calloused hands, dark messy curls....It's not a bad idea.

It's an absolutely insane idea. 

You continue to stare at him, clenching your teeth together to hold back the question sitting on the tip of your tongue.

"What?" he says, looking back at you.

"Nothing" you mutter, eyes flicking away.

"You've got that face you make when you're about to say something really stupid, so just get it out."

You glare at him again, not enjoying the way he can read you so well.

"I wasn't gonna say anything."

"Well now you're lying."

"I'm not."

"You're doing it again!"

"Doing what?!"

"That face!"

"I'm not making a face!"

"Yes you are! Just spit it out!"

You groan and hide your face in your hands. You blame it on the one beer even though you know you’re not anywhere close to being drunk because how else would you justify what you’re about to say? You wait a moment, thinking about the weight of it but your mouth opens before you can stop yourself. 

"Fine! What if, hypothetically speaking of course, you were to, hypothetically, give me a, um, hypothetical, lesson or whatever."

Your heart is pounding so hard you can feel your pulse throb in your neck and hear it in your ears. You slowly drag your hands away from your face and look at him. He stares right back at you, brows furrowed.

"A what?"

"Forget it. forget I said anything,” you mutter, shaking your head. 

"No no wait, hang on, what do you mean? A lesson? Like a…a sex lesson?” 

His eyes are wide, and he looks incredulous. You can't blame him, because the more time that passes between your suggestion and now, the more ridiculous the idea seems.

"I’m sorry, that was…It was stupid. Pretend I didn't say anything. Let's just watch a movie." You move to grab the remote, but Joel's hand covers yours, stopping you.

"Is that what you want?"

You look at him, searching his expression for any sign of disgust or apprehension. But all you can see is the same Joel you've known for months, patient, warm, and understanding.

"I know. I know it's stupid. But I can't get this date out of my head, Joel. It's all I can think about and the more I do, the more worried I get and I just don't want to fuck it up. And I know we're friends and this is weird and gross, but I just thought that... maybe, I could have some practice, so to speak."

He doesn't say anything. Just keeps looking at you, the panic rising in your chest the longer the silence stretches. You start to fidget, wringing your hands together in your lap.

"I'm sorry, that was way out of line" you say, moving to stand up, your skin sweaty and hot with embarrassment and your feet ready to run out the door and never come back. 

But Joel catches your wrist, gently pulling you back down to sit next to him.

"Joel" you whine, not wanting him to humiliate you any further.

"It's okay, come here."

His voice is softer than before, and his eyes are kind. You let him pull you closer, the two of you sitting knee to knee. You can't bring yourself to look him in the eyes, not with your cheeks and the tips of your ears burning like they are, but Joel doesn't push. He simply moves his hand from your wrist, sliding it into yours. His palms are rough and warm, and the simple touch alone is comforting.

"You really wanna do this?” he asks softly. You can feel his eyes boring into you. “I mean, I'm not exactly a prize winning catch. And it's not like there's a shortage of willing men out there."

You shrug and chew the inside of your lip.

"Yeah, but you're my friend and I...I trust you."

There's another pause, and you wish that you could just disappear into the couch and erase this moment from your memory.

"How drunk are you?" he asks, glancing at the beer bottle on the coffee table.

"You saw me finish one bottle. And half of another. I’m barely tipsy."

"Not drunk?”

"Nope."

"You're gonna remember this tomorrow."

"Uh huh."

"And you still want to?"

You groan for the millionth time and squeeze his hand.

"Yes I want to! Look, if you don't want to then that's fine. It was just a dumb suggestion and we can just forget this ever happened."

He hums, considering your words. His hand slips out of yours, and you think that's it, you've scared him off and washed the friendship down the drain. That you'll have to hide from him from now on, that you'll have to pack your things up and move because the mortification would be too much, and that he'll hate you, and—

His two fingers sliding under chin surprise you, and he tilts your head up. He's looking down at you with that same even expression, eyes big, soft, and warm as he slides his hand over to cup your jaw in his palm. 

"If you want to stop at any point, just say so, okay? I won't be upset and we can go back to the way things were before. Got it?"

You nod, your throat suddenly too tight to speak. His thumb sweeps over your cheekbone, the tender touch is enough to make your heart skip a beat. There’s no way this is actually happening. That your first kiss is going to be with your 40 year old menace of a neighbor. That you’re going to, how did you put it, get a sex lesson from him. His gaze flicks down to your lips and back up to your eyes and you’re positive you’re no longer able to breathe. 

"Can I kiss you?" he asks softly. You nod. 

You're sure he can hear the thumping of your heart in his own ears as he leans down. His other hand comes to rest on your hip and when his lips touch yours, a soft, tentative pressure, you're not prepared for the electricity that shoots through you.

He's barely done anything and already you feel like you're floating. Your own hands reach out to clutch his shirt, keeping him close, afraid he'll pull away and leave you cold and wanting if you don't. But he stays put, pressing himself against you, his lips working gently against yours. You follow his lead, kissing him back while trying not to overthink it.

It's nothing like the kisses in the movies or the books, where fireworks explode behind your eyelids or where your foot pops up in the air. It's far more subdued, more quiet and subtle. But the warmth that pools low in your belly and the goosebumps that erupt on your skin when his tongue slides against the seam of your lips, light and quick, makes you absolutely melt. 

He pulls back before you can really react, and you're left with a dizzying rush of both blistering desire and excruciating anxiety. You want to pull him back in and never let him go. But your heart is beating so fast you can hardly breathe, your nerves are buzzing, and the urge to run and hide is nearly paralyzing. 

"Was it bad?" you ask tentatively, cheeks heated.

"No" he replies, giving your hip a squeeze as a smirk plays on his lips. "It was fucking awful. Worst kiss of my life"

"Shut up!" you hiss, pushing him away with a hand on his chest. He laughs, the sound easing some of the tension in your body. 

"I'm just teasing" he says, voice dropping lower. "C'mere, we can work on it."

His lips find yours again, and you try not to smile into the kiss but it's hard when you can feel the way his lips are quirked up as well. It doesn’t take much else to get you to relax and let yourself fall into the moment, into the gentle press of his mouth and the warm hands on your hip and your cheek. He swipes his tongue against your lips again, his fingers pressing lightly into the hinge of your jaw to tilt your head back and coax your lips apart.

You let him, sighing as his tongue glides across yours, hot and smooth and sweet. Your hands slide up his chest, finding purchase around his shoulders, and when you move forward, pushing yourself against him, he grunts softly but lets you. He kisses you until the both of you are gasping for air, and when he pulls back, his lips are wet and red and you're certain yours must be as well.

"Better?" you ask, a bit breathless.

"Getting there" he answers with, his breath warm where it fans across your cheek. 

"You're such a liar" you say with a goofy smile.

"Yeah, I know. Now try again, practice makes perfect.” 

You roll your eyes but lean back in nonetheless. It's a bit more heated this time, the feeling of his teeth nibbling on your bottom lip making you squirm. His hand rounds over your hip, palm smoothing to the small of your back to pull you closer, the heat of his body radiating through your clothes and warming your skin. Your hands move on their own accord, no thought behind the action as they slide up to his shoulders and then his neck, your fingers finding home in the curls at the base of his skull. When you give them a slight tug, you're rewarded with a muffled grunt from Joel. Emboldened, you pull back, lips swollen and tingling.

"You’re a good kisser,” you pant. "Is that something people usually say?"

"When it’s true" he says, grinning at you. "And since I know you're gonna ask, I'd say that was a C+, maybe a B-."

You scoff but blush furiously at the smile he flashes, his eyes crinkling in the corners.

"Well then, tell me what to do next. What do I need to know?"

Joel hums as he thinks for a moment. 

"What do you want to do?"

You stare at him for a second, blinking.

"I don't know, that's why I'm asking you" you say, shaking your head a bit.

"Well, how far do you want to take this?"

You swallow hard, suddenly feeling very shy. You can’t deny that when the idea popped in your head it was accompanied by the mental image of you naked, spread out on his bed, but the actual act of asking him, or better yet, actually doing it is... intimidating to say the least. Are you really about to let him go all the way, to see you bare and vulnerable, let him pop your cherry as he would disgustingly put it? All just to “prepare” for a date with a guy who might not even like you that way?

Yeah, probably.

"All the way" you answer. “I want to go all the way” 

He doesn’t pounce on you like you expected, doesn’t press his lips against yours in a frenzied kiss that you had half hoped for. Instead, he simply looks at you, his brown eyes boring into yours, searching.

"Are you sure? You can always say no and you're not gonna lose me as a friend if this isn’t what you actually want. I don’t want you thinking that."

You can't help the laugh that bubbles up and slips out, because of course Joel, your kind, thoughtful Joel, would say that. He's a good man. A great one, even.

"Yes, I'm sure. But if you don't want to, I get it, I can just leave and-"

Joel laughs, the sound traveling up from deep in his chest, the rumble vibrating against you.

"Sweetheart, I wouldn't be doin’ this if I didn't want to. Just makin’ sure this is what you really want."

"I want it.” 

He squeezes your hip and swipes a thumb over your cheekbone once again. 

“Alright then.” He nods, firm and resolute, and then looks around the room. “ We’re not doing it here, though. If you're getting the full Joel Miller experience, we're gonna do it right.” 

Your eyes roll reflexively, but your heart picks up its pace regardless.

"I’m not gonna do anything if you call it that ever again."

"Fine, fine,” he relents. “Let me show you what a good, thorough fucking feels like. Better?"

Your jaw drops, and he's laughing at you, his body shaking with amusement.

"Fuck you" you grumble, shoving him away while trying to hide your coy smile. 

"Yeah, that's what I'm hoping for," he says with a wide, self-assured grin.

"I'm leaving" you declare with a false sense of offense as you rise to your feet. Joel is quick to do the same and before you can take a single step away, he slips a finger through the belt loop of your jeans and tugs you back into him, wrapping an arm around your waist.

"I’ll stop, I’ll stop. I'm sorry" he says, not sounding it one bit.

You huff, but let him pull you closer until you’re pressed against his chest and you have to tilt your head back to look at him.

"I’ll be good. I promise."

"Liar"

"Well, yeah. But I can promise that I'll make you feel good."

You can't help the giggle that spills out and he kisses it away, his lips warm and plush and sweet against yours. The hand not resting on your lower back comes up, curling around the nape of your neck and keeping you close. You sink into him, and the fog creeps in again, dulling the rest of the world, making it seem fuzzy and distant, like the memory of a dream. All you can focus on is him, the warm solid weight of him against you, the strong arms holding you, the way his mouth moves against yours. And then he’s pulling back all too soon and you have to stifle a whine.

"Come on" he says, tugging at your hand.

His bedroom is dim, the little lamp on his nightstand and the faint glow of the moon through the curtains providing the only light. You swallow and take a deep breath as you step inside, your bare toes digging into the plush carpet, his hand warm and large where it grips yours.

He holds onto you as he sits on the edge of the bed. You step forward, letting him pull you between his knees. His hands settle on your hips, and you can feel their heat through the fabric of your shirt.

He doesn’t ask if you're sure again and you’re grateful because you’re not sure if you could form any kind of response right now. Instead, he slides his hands up and under your shirt, fingers dancing across your skin and leaving a trail of goosebumps. Your breath hitches as his hands smooth over your ribs and around to your back, the tips of his fingers mapping out the curve of your spine, skimming over each notch and bump. They climb higher, the fabric of your shirt bunching around his wrists. 

“Can I take this off, baby?”

Your heart jumps to your throat but you nod anyway. He grabs the hem and tugs your shirt up and and you lift your arms so he can slip it off over your head. He tosses it aside, the fabric falling to the floor beside the bed. You’re left exposed, vulnerable and bare, save for the worn out bra you wear, a few too many washes and a few years past its prime.

Your hands itch where they hang by your side with the instinct to cover yourself, hide the imperfections that you know so well, the stretch marks, the softness of your stomach, the way the cups of your bra are just a bit too small and spill over the tops.

But then he’s pressing his lips to the space just above your navel, his scruff tickling your skin and making the muscles in your abdomen jump and twitch. His hands find your waist again, and when his lips continue their path upwards, his palms follow, skimming up your sides, thumbs tracing the outline of your ribs before stopping at the band of your bra.

"This too?" he asks, voice quiet and husky.

"Yeah" you answer with a squeak, and he grins like a kid in a candy store.

His fingers undo the clasp deftness that makes your knees go weak, the straps slipping from your shoulders and the whole thing sliding down your arms, landing somewhere near your shirt. 

"God, baby, look at you" he murmurs, his hands cupping the underside of your breasts, his thumbs sweeping over the tops and then down the slope and around your nipple. Your breath hitches, the gentle touch sending a shiver up your spine. "You're fucking perfect."

The praise is unexpected and it sends a jolt of heat through your core. You whimper quietly and his hands are on you again, the calloused palms rough on the soft skin of your breasts. He kneads the flesh, squeezing gently before rolling your nipples between his fingers, pulling and pinching and teasing. 

He pulls you closer and ducks his head, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. He looks up at you through his lashes, eyes dark and hooded, and his pupils blown wide with desire.

"Can I?" he asks.

"Please."

He leans in and wraps his lips around a peaked nipple, his tongue swirling around the sensitive nub, the gentle heat of his mouth on your skin making your knees weak.

His mouth works on one breast, tongue flicking and teasing while his free hand continues its work on the other. Pleasure builds and coils deep inside, the sensation unfamiliar but certainly not unwelcome. You whimper and he pulls away, releasing your nipple with a wet pop before giving it a sweet parting kiss.

He turns his attention to the other, his teeth grazing over the stiff peak and drawing a whine from your lips. He sighs when your fingers tighten in his hair, pulling at the strands until he groans softly against you. He sucks your other nipple into his mouth, the flat of his tongue pressing against it and dragging up and around, swirling and flicking. You’re already breathless, panting, a thin sheen of sweat glistening on your forehead.

"Feels good, Joel," you whisper shyly. 

"I know, honey" he says, a soft smile pulling at his lips when he pulls away. "Feel good anywhere else?"

He doesn't wait for a response, simply slips a hand between your thighs, cupping you through the denim, the simple action making you squeak.

"Here, huh?" he says, the heel of his palm pressing against you.

You gasp softly and nod, biting your lip, too shy to say anything.

"Get on the bed, baby."

You comply, crawling onto the mattress and scooting backwards towards the pillows, sitting at the head of the bed as you watch him. His eyes never leave you as he pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it onto the floor. Your heart thumps as you stare at his bare chest, his tanned skin dotted with a light dusting of salt and pepper hair. He's broad, his shoulders thick and chest solid. Your fingers burn with the urge to reach out and touch him, so you do, extending a tentative, slightly shaky hand.

He watches you closely, eyes flitting down to the palm pressed against his chest before meeting yours again, his mouth curling into a smile.

"You can touch" he says, reaching down to curl a hand around your wrist and bringing it up to his lips, pressing a kiss to the center of your palm before guiding your hand back down to his chest. "I think most people would enjoy that."

"You're having entirely too much fun with this,” you mumble while your fingers spread out across his pec.  

"It is fun" he counters, his own hand sliding up the inside of your thigh, thumb pressing against the seam of your jeans and rubbing up and down. "But it'll be more fun once these come off"

Your lips part, a puff of air rushing out.

"You gonna take them off?" you ask, the words slipping out, bold and unbidden.

He grins, his brow quirking up.

"Look at you, being all bossy"

"You like it" you say, finally feeling some of the anxiety slipping away, the familiar and comfortable banter between the two of you slipping into place in a new, unfamiliar situation.

His smile takes up nearly his whole face as moves closer. 

“I sure do.” 

He looms over you, bracing himself on an elbow next to your head before ducking down to kiss you, his tongue easily slipping into your mouth, warm and insistent. You sigh into it, your hands finding the warm, bare skin of his back, muscles gliding beneath your palms as you slide them up and around, fingertips digging into his shoulders. He's so warm and solid and you can't help the little noise that slips out, a soft, needy moan. You're about to break the kiss and beg him to touch you, give you something, anything, but he pulls back before you can. 

"Impatient. I like that too" he says, voice barely above a whisper.

He kisses the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, then down your neck, his beard scraping against your skin. He continues his path, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses across your collarbones and down the valley between your breasts, his beard tickling your sternum.

His palm presses into the top of your thigh, and you instinctively open your legs for him, his hand immediately moving to cup you through the denim, thick fingers pressing against the seam and the bundle of nerves just below. Your hips rock up, seeking more pressure and he grins, entirely too pleased with himself right now.

You huff, and he laughs, the sound rumbling in his chest, but he relents, undoing the button and zipper of your jeans and tugging the fabric down, revealing the pair of pink panties underneath. 

Joel sits up, pulling your jeans down your legs and letting them drop off the side of the bed, the sound of the denim hitting the floor indicating that you've officially crossed a line that neither of you can come back from. But if the hungry, desperate look on his face and the way you're practically vibrating underneath him are any indication, neither of you want to.

"I'll start with just my fingers, yeah?" he says, his hands running up the insides of your thighs, touch light and teasing, the tips of his fingers brushing the edge of your panties. You nod dumbly, at a complete loss for words right now.

He ducks his head, his lips landing on the smooth skin stretched over your hip bone. You squirm, ticklish, and he grins. His mouth is a great distraction from his hand, which has found its way back in between your legs, his fingers now pressing against damp fabric.

"Shit" he curses, his touch firm. "Fuckin' soaked already. Am I just that good?" he quips with a smirk.

"Jesus do you ever shut up" you gripe, but the effect is ruined by the whimper that escapes you when his thumb sweeps up, pressing hard against your clit. 

"Oh, that's a pretty sound" he murmurs, repeating the motion to pull out another one, your hips bucking against his hand.

"Now," he starts, his tone shifting to the same one he uses when he's about to impart some life lesson. "This guy you're gonna see, or any man for that matter, should always take care of you before himself. That's just common fuckin' sense. And if he doesn't, you send him on his way" he continues. "Because a man that don't wanna see a woman get off is no fuckin' man at all"

You're about to interrupt, tell him he's an idiot and ask him to please, please, get on with it, but his fingers sliding under the elastic of your panties, swiftly pulling them down your legs steals the breath from your lungs. Your pulse sky rockets and you shift underneath him, crossing your thighs in instinctual effort to hide yourself from him. 

"M'sorry I didn't shave or anything" you blurt out, your throat tight with anxiety and embarrassment once again 

Joel just shakes his head as he pries your legs apart.

"Baby, I could not give less of a shit about that."

"But-"

"No" he says, the word firm, an edge of command to his tone. "You’re not apologizin’ for that. And if a man gives a shit, he's a fuckin' child who doesn't deserve the honor of bein' between these thighs" he says, pushing your knees further apart.

You nod and bite your lip, the words that are just so very Joel, settling in your chest and easing the tension in your body. You let out a long, slow breath and relax, trying to ease the nervousness.

"There ya go" he says, his fingers dancing along your slit, gathering the slick pooling there. You shudder at the gentle touch, your hips rolling up just a bit before you force them back down into the mattress, trying to keep yourself still.

"Nuh-uh. None of that" he says, immediately noticing the movement. He slides his free hand under you, his palm pushing into the small of your back and encouraging you to move again, to lean into your pleasure. "You take what you want, baby. Show me how good it feels. That's all I wanna see."

You squirm and whimper, the simple, almost lazy touch driving you insane. You've touched yourself before, brought yourself over the edge while imagining what it would be like to have the things you read about and watch in videos happen to you. But you've never managed to make yourself feel this good, never felt pleasure so intense, never felt a burning pressure in your abdomen so demanding that it radiates all the way to the tips of your fingers and toes.

And he's barely touched you.

"How's that feel?"

You can't even form the words, so you just nod and hum, the sound a mix of a whimper and a moan, your hips rolling up against his palm. He chuckles, and then the pressure increases, the friction building, his fingers slipping down, collecting more of your wetness to ease the drag against your skin.

He moves his fingers down, down, down, the tip of one circling your entrance, gathering the wetness pooling there. You whine loudly, any shame and modesty you once had replaced entirely with desperate need and pure desire.

"Please, Joel" you whisper, voice shaky.

"I gotcha" he says, dipping his fingertip in, just barely, and pulling a moan from deep in your chest. "Gonna give you what you need"

You groan, a long, low sound as he slowly sinks his finger into you. It's nothing like your own, so perfectly thick and long/ And you found the spot before, the spot that he curls his finger up into, but never at this angle, never with the perfect amount of pressure that he's applying right now. 

"Mmm, look at that" he coos as you clench tightly around his finger.

"Joel, god, feels so good" you whimper pathetically. 

"I know, honey, I know."

You clench again, the cockiness and self-assured attitude that usually gets under your skin now ignites your whole body in an entirely different way. He keeps his eyes on your face, watching as your eyes squeeze shut and your mouth drops open, your head tipping back as the pleasure builds.

"Another" you beg, the fullness not nearly enough.

"Greedy girl" he chides, but he pulls his finger out, and slides two back in. You swear that you could come from this alone, but he doesn't let you, the hand that was supporting your lower back disappearing, only to reappear between your thighs, his thumb circling your clit with firm, steady strokes.

White hot pleasure wraps around the base of your spine, the dual sensations of his fingers and his thumb sending you spiraling. The sounds falling from your lips are unrecognizable, high and desperate as your mind goes blissfully blank, your entire focus on the heat coiling in your abdomen. Your eyebrows pinch together and you bury your face in the pillow next to your head, trying to hide the ridiculous expression you're surely making, but you inhale the traces of his shampoo and cologne that cling to the fabric, the scent pushing you even closer to the edge. 

You try to hold back. Surely you're not supposed to come this quickly, not just from two fingers and a thumb. Surely that's a sign that you're an easy lay, or too inexperienced, or-

"Just let it happen, baby. I can feel it, Just let go" Joel says, his voice cutting through the thoughts racing through your mind, his fingers crooking inside you and dragging across the spot that makes your hips stutter and a cry fall from your lips.

You can't hold back any longer, the pleasure cresting and crashing down around you. You squeeze his fingers, your back arching, the heels of your feet digging into the mattress as you roll your hips up into his touch, seeking more and more and more. And he gives and gives and gives, working you through it and drawing it out for as long as he can before you melt into the mattress, bones and muscles liquid and warm and satisfied.

He pulls his fingers out, and the sudden emptiness draws a disappointed whine from you, his answering chuckle making you smile.

"That was- fuck" you sigh, not quite capable of coherent thought.

"Absolutely mind-blowing? Yeah I know" he teases. You roll your eyes but don't say anything because it's true, and his cocky grin fades into a soft smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he watches you return to Earth. 

"Can I- can I return the favor?" you ask, your gaze flicking down to the noticeable bulge in his jeans.

He grunts and shakes his head.

"Not yet. Got somethin' else in mind."

You frown and push yourself up onto your elbows, watching as he shifts from his position. You're about to ask what he's going to do until he's settling himself on his stomach between your thighs. You suck in a sharp breath as you realize exactly what he's got planned and your heart jumps, anxiety clouding your mind once again. 

He rests his cheek on your thigh, his eyes meeting yours.

"Alright?"

You swallow and nod, licking your lips.

"Yeah. Just... no one's ever-"

"Yeah, I got that much, that's why we're here" he says, smiling smugly when you glare at him. 

"But what if it's not good? Or I don't taste good? Or-"

"Stop" he says, the single word halting your runaway train of thought. "You need lessons in relaxing, not sex. You're so fucking tense all the time"

"Sorry" you say, immediately cringing.

He sighs, his breath ghosting over the skin of your inner thigh, making you shiver. "What did I say about apologizin'?" he says, his tone slightly sharp.

"I know. Sorry- shit, sorry! Fuck!"

He barks out a laugh and you huff, bringing up both hands to scrub over your face.

"See what I mean?"

"Yes, yes, you're very smart and know everything"

He hums and nips at your thigh.

"Damn right I do."

You want to snark back, but his mouth is moving, his lips trailing down the inside of your thigh and towards where you're aching for him, slick and wet and throbbing. He takes his time, laying kisses on your thighs, hips, and stomach, his scruff scraping the sensitive skin, huffing out a laugh when you start to squirm, your patience wearing thin.

His hands smooth over the soft flesh of your inner thighs, urging you to spread them wider before spreading you open with his thumbs, exposing you completely. You feel exposed, vulnerable, and the urge to close your legs and hide yourself from his gaze is overwhelming, the embarrassment making your skin burn. But before you can even think about closing them, his tongue is on you, sliding up the length of you and circling your clit. The moan that escapes you is embarrassingly loud and high pitched, but the mortification is easily swallowed up by the pleasure.

He hums against you, the sound and the feeling sending a shudder through your body. Your hands grip the pillow behind your head and you try not to buck up into his mouth, but your attempts are futile. He doesn't seem to mind though, in fact you think it spurs him on, his tongue flattening against you and lapping at you messily, the wetness he's coaxed from you smearing across his mouth and chin.

The sound is lewd and obscene, the sloppy, slick noises and the soft grunts and groans that rumble in his chest as he works you up. He pulls back, his breath coming out in pants, his chest heaving as he looks up at you, his eyes dark and hooded.

"Don't know what you were worried about" he says, his voice low and raspy. "You taste fuckin' divine"

His beard is shiny and damp, his lips glistening, hair messy from where your fingers were tangled in it. The sight of him looking so completely disheveled and filthy has you clenching around nothing, the ache almost too much to bear.

He doesn't say anything else, just ducks his head and gets back to work, his mouth moving with a renewed urgency, his hands gripping your thighs and pushing them further apart, allowing him better access.

Your eyes roll back and your mouth falls open, a constant stream of moans and whines and babbling pleas and praises falling from your lips, but you're not really sure what you're saying, not really sure of anything except the intoxicating pleasure coursing through your veins.

You hear him moan, can feel the vibration against your skin, and you glance down at him, and that's a mistake. The sight of him, his eyes closed and brows drawn together in concentration, his cheeks hollowed out as he sucks and nips and laps at you and– is he fucking grinding his hips into the mattress?

You're fucked.

A throaty moan tumbles past your lips as your hips start to rock, a rhythm forming as you chase your orgasm. His hands leave your thighs and he slides one arm up, the weight of it resting against your abdomen to keep you still while his other hand snakes down, fingers dipping inside again, finding the spot that makes you see stars.

"Fuck, Joel, please, oh my god, I'm so- please"

He groans in response, the hand on your stomach pressing down harder to meet the two fingers curling and stroking inside of you. You cry out at the increased pressure right as he wraps his lips around your clit, sucking and swirling his tongue around the bud, his fingers moving faster and faster. Flames lick up your spine and spread throughout your body, threatening to burn you alive. 

Your orgasm hits you like a freight train, knocking the wind out of you and turning your limbs to jello. Wave after wave of blinding euphoria crashes over you and all you can do is cling to the pillow and arch your back, your toes curling as he continues to work his fingers and tongue, happily letting you ride his face and grind into his mouth.

He doesn't let up, not until you're a whimpering, trembling mess, physically pushing his head away when it becomes too much. He pulls back reluctantly, a wicked grin plastered to his face, his chin and mouth absolutely soaked. You're panting, struggling to catch your breath as the aftershocks make you shiver despite the content warmth spreading throughout your entire body.You feel sated and sleepy, a bone deep satisfaction making you feel boneless. 

But as you come down from your high, rational thoughts start to filter in and you suddenly remember the reason this all started in the first place.

You're here to learn, he should be teaching you how to please a man.

How to please him. 

You watch as he gets off the bed and wipes his chin with the back of his hand. Your eyes shamelessly rake over him, the dusty pink flush that decorates his neck and chest, the curve of his belly down to the impressive bulge in his jeans. 

You push yourself up, ignoring the way your arms tremble with the effort. He looks at you, his eyes scanning your face no doubt looking for signs of distress.

"You ok?" he asks, eyebrows pinched together in his typical concerned Joel fashion.

"Yeah" you say, a little breathlessly. "But I still want to..."

Your voice trails off and you glance down at his crotch, hoping he gets the message.

"That's alright, baby. It's a lot, we don't-"

"No" you interrupt, a hint of desperation in your voice. "You said you would teach me. Please, Joel. I-I wanna learn" You hope it's a good enough cover to the fact that you really just want him, your original goal forgotten. "I just don't want to embarrass myself" you add, pouting slightly for good measure, praying to god that he can’t detect the underlying want for him and him only.

He watches you for a moment, seemingly contemplating his decision. And then his eyes narrow, because of course he knows. There's never been an instance where you succeeded in lying to this man. He always, always knows when something is off.

"Alright" he says, a slow smile spreading across his face, something mischievous sparkling in his eyes. "Dick sucking class is now in session"

You groan, your face twisting with visible disgust.

"Oh my god, that was terrible."

"What? It's true" he says with a shrug.

"That is- no, no way. Never say those words ever again. Ever." you say, pointing a finger at him accusingly.

"Or what?" he challenges, taking a step towards the bed.

You gulp and lick your lips.

"Or..."

He waits expectantly for a response. You have none, so you just shake your head and look away.

"Yeah, that's what I thought"

You glare at him and then sigh.

"You're a bully"

"Am I?” He asks, taking a step back to give you more room. “ 'Cause you're the one that asked me to teach ya. On your knees, kid. Let's see whatcha got."

You chew on the inside of your cheek, trying to suppress a grin. You don't know how he does it, but his ability to make a joke or a quip out of anything always has a smile tugging at the corner of your lips, even when the jokes are awful and the puns are terrible. Even when the joke is about you getting ready to suck his dick. 

"You're a bully and a pervert" you say, sliding off the bed and sliding to your knees, the plush carpet doing a decent job at protecting your joints.

"And proud of it.”

"Pride is a sin."

"So is premarital sex, so I'll see you in hell, honey"

You snort and look up at him from your place on the floor, grinning widely.

"You're ridiculous"

"You love it"

And that's the thing, isn't it?

Because you do. You love his innate ability to make you laugh, to make you smile even when he's about to take your fucking virginity. He knows how to comfort you, how to put you at ease, when to push you with his teasing and when to pull back and let you take control. You've never met a person who has so effortlessly made their way into your heart.

And here you are, on your knees for him under the false pretense of practicing for a man who's name you can't even remember right now.

You shake your head, the motion clearing the thoughts and the emotions that were swirling in your head, the ones that make you want to stand up and kiss him, kiss him until your lips are numb and you're left gasping for air.

"Joel?" you say his name softly.

"Yeah, baby?"

"Teach me."

Part 2 is already in the works I promise hehehe thank you for reading I hope u all enjoy!!

[bookdragonideas]

Here's the thing. I'm a girl, and as a girl, I really like it when girls are portrayed in fiction. Especially fantasy.

But so much fiction/fantasy mixes up 'girls' with 'unstoppable forces of female badass' and there's not necessarily anything wrong with having a character who is an 'unstoppable forces of female badass'. But it gets old real quick. And it is not the same as portraying normal girls, or having good female characters.

And that's one of the many reasons I love Avatar the Last Airbender.

Because all the girl characters have flaws and weaknesses and sometimes act like idiots or jerks. They get emotional and make mistakes. They lose fights or arguments or are just wrong sometimes. Some of them are amazing warriors, and some aren't. Some are powerful or special and some are normal, with nothing special about them.

And I Love that.

I was around the same age as Katara when I first watched Atla. And I instantly connected with her as a character. I loved her optimistic attitude and her fighting spirit. And I could relate with her anger, and with her maternal instinct. I admired her fighting skills of course, but I loved how the show portrayed her compassion and kindness, the way she could both beat up a bunch of bullies AND enjoy a relaxing day at the spa. She was a baddass warrior that should never be crossed. But she was also a normal teenage girl who had a lot of the same internal struggles and problems that I did.

(I never connected to Toph on the same level, but I did relate to her on a few things. She's an adorable trash gremlin who would commit any crime for fun and I love that. But she struggles with being both independent and letting people help her, and I still struggle with that sometimes. I've learned that sometimes, you can help others by letting them help you.)

Yue is, in my opinion, a perfect example of a type of hero that seems to be disappearing. She is not a warrior. She is not a fighter. She's not even a bender.

Yue is a perfect princess, a perfect daughter. She is extremely feminine in a rather older sense.

And she was the only one who could save the world. She gave up everything for her people. She saved everything, everyone, the entire world. Without ever becoming a fighter.

Yue is a perfect example of a girl who was never more than a girl, and how that's okay. Not every girl has to be rough and tumble and fight for her rights in order to change everything. Sometimes it's okay to just be a quiet obedient girly girl. Sometimes that's all it takes to be a hero.

And I love that. Yue is strong in her own way. She is unique and interesting. She appears in only a few episodes and yet manages to be one of my favorite characters.

Song is another great example of this. Song is a healer in a small town. We don't see much of her but we see her compassion and empathy. She is gentle and generous. A healer not a fighter.

She watches Zuko steal her ostrich horse and does nothing.

Is that because she's kind and generous and knows he needs it more? Or is it because she's a healer girl who knows she can't actually stop those two from taking the horse? Maybe neither, maybe both. I have always thought that the scene where Zuko steals the horse and only the audience knows she saw it is one of the most thought-provoking in the series.

Suki is a badass warrior woman who is an awesome fighter and good leader. She is one of the best non bender fighter we see in the entire show. She was one of the smartest, most efficient, and powerful characters we ever saw.

She kissed a boy she had just met because she thought he was cute.

Now don't get me wrong I love SokkaxSuki. Its one of the best couples in the show.

But Suki totally did the old 'love at first sight' thing. And that is awesome. Because when she kisses him she delivers one of the best lines, not only from her, but, I think, in the entire show.

"I AM a warrior, but I'm a girl too."

Being a warrior doesn't mean that she isn't also a teenage girl. She might be a fighter, but she still gets crushes and likes to flirt with cute boys. And hey, she picked a good one. Not every boy is going to come break you out of prison.

Anyways, let's have more realistic girls in fiction. And please enjoy the next 24 hours.

[vroomvroomwee]

Crowley is Lucifer

(Ok I know some of you don't believe this theory but I highly suggest you give this a quick read anyway. I tried to make it short and easy and I'll be going chronologically, from s1 all through s2)

- First, let's get this out of the way, Lucifer and Satan aren't neccesarilly the same person. Even in the show the devil that appeared in s1 has only ever been reffered to as Satan, not even once as Lucifer.

- In the bible Lucifer was the one to tempt Eve with the apple, and who do we know that does that in the show. Crowley is literally THE snake from Eden.

- An obvious one perhaps, but the red hair is also a giveaway

- In the bible Jesus was tempted by the devil for 30 days, in the show Crowley says "I showed him all the kingdoms of the world", so that's another role Lucifer has that Crowley had in the show

- It's well known (even mentioned in the Sandman) that Lucifer was the most beautiful of all angels, and our demon is played by no other than David Tennant

Now on to season 2 because there's a LOT to unpack here

- He litterally started the engine of the universe which was one of Lucifers roles

- He's the first to say "let there be light", which is pretty fucking huge since that is Gods line

- "I worked closely with upstairs on it" even in the first scene they're telling us Crowley is an angel of very very high rank

- He fell for asking questions, which is litterally what Lucifer fell for, for questioning God. This in and of itself should be a pretty big indicator. "I only ever asked questions"

- Shax: "a miracle of enourmous power only the mightiest of archangels can perform"

Crowley: "How do you know I didn't do it"

And Shax just... doesn't counter that. She looks even skeptical, as if it COULD be a possibility, unlike Uriel who says to Aziraphale don't excpect us to believe you did it. Shax litterally doesn't shut the option down which confirms Crowley has the power not only of an archangel but of the mightiest kind

- In the bookshop with Gabriel/Jim he says "I don't remember. It [gravity] seemed like a good idea when we were all talking about it"

- "You're welcome to come in, you might even spot an archangel" don't tell me this was Crowley just egging Shax on and not being sneaky

- The fact that he could sense the demons coming. "Somethings wrong""It's coming in waves", when Aziraphale couldn't. It could be a demon thing but we saw Sandalphon, an archangel of lower rank, in the first season mention "something smells evil" so obviously angels can sense demons too, they just have to be powerful enough. And keep in mind Sandalphon was already in the book shop for quite some time, Crowley sensed them even before they had arrived (he also sensed the hell hound who was some fucking miles away)

- The.fucking.folder. "You have to be a throne or dominion above" and this dude opens these clasified documents like it's nothing. If this isn't an indicator of his high position as an angel I don't know what is.

- He's worked with Saraqael, another very high ranking angel

- "I'm the only first order archangel in the room"... and the camera imediately pans to Crowley, and for anyone who's read the book and watched the show you know that rarely anything is coincidental

- When the Metatron says they can't lose another prince of heaven. This... this fucking line. So it's relatively well known that Gabriel and Lucifer are brothers, and if Gabriel is one of the princes of heaven I wonder who the other one could be. "Two princes of heaven". And the Metatrons words were very careful, he doesn't say lost as in heaven can't find him, he says it in the context that they won't be sending Gabriel to hell since they won't lose another prince to downstairs

- In the bookshop when no one can identify the Metatron he turns to Crowley who imediately recognises him. Now you have this dude, who's literally on top of the angel hierarchy and is responsible for running heaven and the connection to God themself, surrounded by archangels and a principality you spoke to face to face with just a few years ago and... none of them can tell who you are, the only one who does is the literal demon. That tells us that Crowley has not only seen him in this form, but has probably worked with the Metaron himself personally. "Always asking damn fool questions", 10 million angels and he remembers what this one particular angel was like 6000 years ago

- Crowley is also very reluctant to reveal his identity as an angel. Now if he were just an ordinary angel of no real significance he wouldn't have a problem revealing his name, but... if his name was one that's the literal representation of all evil in this world, then it is understandable he keeps it a secret, in fear he might scare Aziraphale away

- And I wanted to leave the best for last. So you remember in the book when Crowley has to sign his name to start Armaggedon, and Hastur tells him "no, your real name" after which he reluctantly writes it. Now in the book we never see him write anything, but in the show we see him write a sygil, something that looks very mich like an L. An L... A FUCKING L. And now I wonder how this theory didn't come up sooner.

(Also he can fucking stop time, like dafuq)

Edit:

- "Oh looky here it's Lucifer and the guys" we all thought he was talking about someone else, he's just refferencing things other angels have said about HIM. FUCK

- I keep seing people saying Crowleys memories were wiped because he couldn't remember Saraqael and Furfur. But I think people forget, demons lie. He's lying to make them think he's not that angel they worked with, that he's not Lucifer. (In season 1 we hear him a few times refferencing his life as an angel, so he does remember most of it)

- Also saying if the Raphael theory were true then as showrunners they would have mentioned him somewhere for those not that familiar with the bible (or don't read much fanfiction). The refferences for Crowleys past are so so vague that it would be too sudden and confusing if he were Raphael. But there is one name that everyone is familiar with, no matter who you are how old you are or where you're from, a name that needs no introduction.

Edit 2:

- Back to him being the most beautiful angel, I don't think it was ever quite explained how every single demon when they're in hell looks... awful, but Crowley doesn't. Beelzebub has the spores all over their face, Hastur the maggots and the sh-, Dagon the scales etc. But Crowley doesn't, not even when he's in hell, he's always just so, well, pretty.

- I saw a few people asking about how Lucifer started the rebellion and Crowley wouldn't do that. I think it's the same Crowley who wouldn't get stuck in traffic after creating the M25, or the same Crowley that wanted to call Aziraphale after bringing down the entire London network, "you told them you invented the spanish inquisition, and started the second world war""so the humans beat me to it that's not my fault", "so all this is your demonic work?""no, the humans thought it up themselves nothing to do with me"

- Also I think Satan's in charge of hell not Crowley the same way the Metatron's in charge of heaven and not Gabriel (and who can very easily demote angels if he so wishes)

Edit 3:

- like some of you pointed out Lucifer is also known/means Light-bringer. And Crowley was the first to say "let there be light."

- The file he opens with Muriel is Gabriels file, a class A archangel, so if he knows the password to that it means that either he's on the same level as Gabriel, or above him.

[pellucid-constellations]

To Feel At Home

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: Winnowing out from Under the Mountain, you know you need to find him—it doesn't seem real, to feel so at home.

Word count: 1.1k

Warnings: Angst

a/n: A little angsty piece because I can't stop writing for some reason. I hope you enjoy :)

Main Masterlist ♡

~~

On shaking legs, you pressed forward. Rhysand was still at the Moonstone Palace—still in Mor’s arms and coping with the impossible. You had made to stay, but Mor had given you a shake of her head that conveyed more than any words could have.

Mustering up the morsel of power that had returned to you after Amarantha’s death, you winnowed to Velaris. 

Not in a good spot. You hadn’t had access to your power in over five decades and much of Rhysand’s wards were still in place. Given the circumstances, getting yourself to some random alley at the edge of Velaris was a feat. 

The sun was blinding, invading your senses that had gotten so used to the darkness Under the Mountain. You brought a hand up to cover your eyes and trekked on.

No more winnowing. 

You had tried—it hadn’t worked. 

As you walked, stumbling through families taking strolls and having normal days, you searched within you for that golden thread. It had been absent for longer than it had been alive, your time as mates barely reaching a decade before your disappearance. 

You sifted through the pain and grief and loneliness, desperate for the relief you would find once you felt the weight of him. 

Nothing yet. 

He had to know things had changed Under the Mountain. Even amidst the secrecy and the hiding, you knew he would check.  His shadows would cross continents to find you. 

But—you stressed, as you made it to a main road lined with cobblestones—that could mean he went there. Azriel could be under that mountain at this very moment, searching through the fae still sorting out their lives before they went home. 

And you were here. 

You had no reason to panic. 

You were home, safe, alive; you had more reason to feel at peace than you had in the last 50 years. But if Azriel wasn’t here… 

Your breath came out in short pants as your fingers found purchase on a wall. But you kept going, kept watching your feet as they stumbled past each other, just to have the chance of seeing him. 

There were no shadows yet. 

They always found you first. 

You weren't sure how much time had passed—seconds, minutes, hours all lost their meaning under Amarantha—but the shadow of the mountain that held your home was soon cast over your body. You gasped out uneven breaths and pressed a hand to the towering figure, to the entrance that held the ten thousand steps you had every intention of climbing. 

Your body would surely fail. 

The last five decades had not been kind. 

With a determination fueled solely by desperation and hope, you began the tunneled pathway to the harrowing climb, but then you stopped at the entryway. 

A broken rendition of your name met your ears, so cracked and ruined you could have passed it off for something else. 

But you knew that voice, the way the vowels flowed and connected. 

Another broken sound permeated the air, this time from your own lips. 

You couldn’t look. You wanted to, ached to, but you couldn’t. So much anticipation led up to this moment. And you were different now, a fraction of the person you had been all those years ago. 

“Y/n, my love, look at me,” Azriel begged, the lowest you’d ever heard him speak. But you hadn’t heard him speak in so long, so perhaps you were misremembering. “Please.” 

You couldn’t. 

Moving was impossible. 

Your legs began to shake at the sound of footsteps, and then your knees gave out. 

A loud sound vibrated against the tunnel walls as your hands slapped against the floor. On the ground, steps away from the only person who could fix this, your waterline filled with tears. 

But you didn’t have time to second-guess or run or wonder if this was all too much. You were gathered into a strong pair of arms, pressed into a firm chest that smelled like home, and tears made paths down your cheeks. They flowed in damp trails in silence, Azriel holding you closer and closer until you weren’t sure space existed between you. 

His nose pressed into your hair. 

His chest rose and fell in uneven patterns. 

More silence. You felt your body begin to rock gently back and forth. 

This wasn’t real—it couldn’t be. 

You had resigned yourself to never seeing him again many years ago. Even as you ran through the streets of Velaris without your breath or your reasonable mind, you hadn’t expected to find him. This was a dream, Azriel wasn’t here, it was only a cruel play on your mind. 

Someone was trying to hurt you, and it was working. 

Maybe Amarantha had finally gotten Rhys to crack. 

Maybe this was his doing, his manipulation of your deepest hopes. 

Something was moving against your ear, soft and rushed and incoherent. A hand smoothed back your hair. You kept rocking. 

“You’re okay.” Words filtered through ringing. “You’re okay. You’re okay. I’m here.” 

Over and over. On a loop. 

Something encased you. Darkness followed—you were used to darkness. 

The pattern of the words lulled your heart back to a normal rate. Tears continued to fall. Your breath was shaky. 

“I love you so much,” Azriel broke the repetition, shocking your system. “I love you. I love you—” 

A sob wracked your body, the first real sound to leave your mouth. Azriel shushed you in response, but when he buried his face in your neck you felt the wetness of his own cheeks. 

This had to be real, it had to. There was no other alternative. You wouldn't survive feeling this way just to be thrust back into that nightmare. 

It had to be real, it had to—

“It is,” Azriel choked out. He pulled back, your face in his hands, his expression conveying a picture of pain and love and disbelief. “It’s real, angel. Gods, you’re so beautiful. I never thought I’d—” Words cut off and restarted. “I tried so hard to get to you.” 

His forehead met yours. 

This was real. 

You felt the shadows wisp along your skin. 

You could never feel them in dreams. 

“I missed you,” you croaked, voice so unused to the words. “So much.” 

Azriel squeezed his eyes shut only to open them after not even a breath. Desperate not to lose sight of you. Anguished at the thought of missing the picture of you in his arms. 

“I’ve missed you more.”

[taasgirl]

espresso - lando norris

summary: y/n is a famous singer who also happens to be a massive f1 fan. when she mentions a liking for a certain driver, it's only fate that he tries everything in his power to get her attention.

a/n: no face claim! the outcomes/order of races are altered to fit the story, it's just a fun time!!

liked by oliviarodrigo, oneruel, pedri, and 1, 376, 227 others ynusername my new interview with wired is out now!

user64973 Stop you're gorgeous

user89322 do i wanna be her or be with her??

user09384 so who r u crushing on huh

ynusername it's a seeeecret 🤫

user44172 This entire vid is so chaotic omfg

user03638 Please let y/n enter her wag era

liked by user55736, user89842, user73903, and 10, 652 others user33973 HELLO???? LANDO LITERALLY LIKED THIS TWEET I'M CRYING

user98301 brother personally knows who y/n's next bf should be

user40440 HAHA NO LITERALLY

user34593 God please let this be lando shooting his shot after watching y/n's recent interview

user43982 NO WAIT UR SO FR BECAUSE SHE LITERALLY MENTIONED LIKING AN F1 DRIVER WHAT IF IT'S HIM??

user12871 lando and y/n 🙏🙏

view ynusername's story...

liked by oscarpiastri, lorde, gavi, and 782, 774 others ynusername what a race! lovely to see you again @ oscarpiastri, maybe aim for a podium next time though?

oscarpiastri I'd like to see you try in a f1 car

user49949 Wait is oscar the guy y/n was talking abt in that vid? user53004 i hope not, i love him and lily

user20833 Okay so did y/n and lando interract or not? 😭

user61221 hot girls support mclaren (confirmed!) liked by ynusername

user89483 y/n slowly integrating herself in the f1 scene, we see u girl

liked by danielricciardo, logansargeant, ynusername, and 2, 459, 383 others landonorris A lot to learn from this weekend, but we keep pushing. Also great to meet a lot of new faces and the incredible fans🧡

user58273 SORRY WHAT THAT SECOND PHOTO...

user89894 is the new face y/n perhaps??

mclaren Great weekend Lando! liked by landonorris

user92702 I genuinely tweak whenever u post bc u look so fine

user53982 not y/n liking this post 😭

user66359 AND SHE DOESN'T EVEN FOLLOW HIM user98123 miss girl is stalking her crush i bet

user17263 please let this year be your year

user52209 Did anyone see his response to that post race interview?

user28732 YES AND HOW HE HAS HIS EYE ON SUM1

user87229 oh he trynna thirst trap (y/n) liked by landonorris

liked by lilyzneimer, oliviarodrigo, pedri, and 334, 938 others ynusername remember that one bitch ass ex I had? yeah well I wrote another song about him! 'feather' is yours now, but best enjoyed when you have an ugly, cheating, lying dick of an ex to think about. have fun with this one!! 😘

lilyzneimer STOP I'M ACTUALLY DYING I WAS NOT EXPECTING OSCAR OMG I CAN'T STOP LAUGHING liked by ynusername

user82983 i was like wow normal post! and then boom. oscar.

oscarpiastri Okay that seems a little mean

lilyzneimer already on repeat

oscarpiastri Um excuse me???? Did you read the caption...

user68297 NEW Y/N MUSIC YESYESYES

user26321 omfg i've been waiting for an angry y/n song

user72639 this sounds really familiar?? song of the summer maybe?

ynusername ahhhh thank you bb

view landonorris's story...

liked by user58273, user98004, user63874, and 10, 376 others user44938 Y/N papped in Monte Carlo today! Rumours are circulating that she was visiting F1's starboy Lando Norris, however there is no official confirmation.

user99812 ohhh y/n we see you

user89283 Okay everyone shut up abt lando, let's take a moment to appreciate y/n's beauty omf she's gorg

user23294 I SECOND THIS !!

user12834 hmm i wonder why she's in monaco...

user48463 Y/N u ain't slick 😭

user35273 she saw lando's story and ran straight to him

user16282 "how far u go for a sneaky link? I'd fly"

user52883 I know damn well she ain't in monaco for a holiday

liked by landonorris, gracieabrams, laufey, and 483, 995 others ynusername it's exactly like selena gomez's 2011 film

user73948 I KNOW LANDO'S HOODIE WHEN I SEE IT

user63762 ur the genuine it girl

lilyzneimer Monte Carlo reference, I love it liked by ynusername

user11928 landoooo

landonorris oooooo

user40948 oh hey lando user29830 Fancy seeing you here user73984 He wants her so bad

oscarpiastri I think I've seen that hoodie before

ynusername hmm i wonder where 🤷‍♀️

user49283 girl saw his story and flew out IMMEDIATELY

user53984 y/n l/n wag era loading 😏😏

user92874 So pretty

liked by oscarpiastri, ynusername, mclaren, and 3, 469, 848 others landonorris Calm before the storm #raceweek

charlesleclerc Good to see you with some company

user76483 CHARLES HASFGUEH

ynusername omg invite me next time

user42761 Girl bfr we know where u were at

user52739 THIS IS SO FUCKING CUTE

user19820 y/n and lando are a match made in heaven

user82637 I wonder who you were hanging out with 🤔

oscarpiastri Wow I feel like I've seen that girl before

ynusername me too

user61542 not lando soft launching y/n as if we don't know it's her

user82736 I mean technically we don't

user19823 @ user82736 No I think it is confirmed, she was heard on his twitch stream the other day

liked by landonorris, lilyzneimer, danielricciardo, and 1, 254, 982 others mclaren Our drivers and their partners after qualifying! Lando and Oscar will begin P4 and P5 respectively in Monte Carlo 🧡🤍

user82638 AND THEIR PARTNERS??? Y/N AND LANDO?

user52761 admin really said if they won't confirm it, I will liked by mclaren

user52839 Please lando and y/n are adorable

user82636 lily & oscar >>>

user48273 Sooooo they official...?

user27163 guys stop with this y/n x lando madness, i need a double mclaren podium

user82638 y/n really manifested her wag era huh

liked by ynusername, logansargeant, lilymunhe, and 3, 716, 372 others landonorris Monaco '24. Thank you to everyone who came out, and showed me support this weekend. I promise to be better next race. tagged: oscarpiastri & ynusername

ynusername my racer 🧡🏎️

user62538 HELLO? user82776 i'm gonna be sick

mclaren Papaya boys! liked by landonorris

user72538 Y/N is so beautiful I can't even

user16529 HIS EYES

user52863 him hard launching y/n >>>>

user98276 This is MY victoria and david

ynusername omg we're definitely not as cool as them

user41752 i won't get over this ever

liked by landonorris, phoebebridgers, mclaren, and 967, 837 others ynusername i think i need to buy more orange clothes

landonorris I've already offered up half my closet to her...

landonorris nice shirt though 😏

user62538 oh i'm living for their hard launch

lilyzneimer Welcome to the team!!

user22817 STOP THIS IS ADORABLE PLS WE NEED Y/N AND LILY CONTENT IMMEDIATELY

mclaren Our favourite pop star liked by ynusername 🌟

user52763 Y/N THE WAG YESSSSSS

oscarpiastri It's actually papaya

ynusername okay sassy man apocalypse lilyzneimer @ ynusername feed him to the zombies

liked by oliviarodrigo, landonorris, lilyzneimer, and 583, 872 others ynusername oh and btw, my new song espresso is out and it's a @ landonorris certified 'banger'. his words not mine. listen on all platforms now!!

landonorris She's working late cause she's a singerrr

ynusername haiii

user72637 y/n really walked in and said that she's the best lando ever had and ever will have

landonorris I mean it's true sooo

user62537 Okay lando I didn't know u had game like dat

lilyzneimer oh I love you

ynusername LILYYYYYYY i love u so much oscarpiastri I think our gfs are gfs... @ landonorris

view landonorris's story...

please let me know if you guys liked this! i love doing lando fics so much. as always, my reqs are open so feel free to drop suggestions!!

here’s a cute oscar smau i just wrote

[winkwonkwankwenk]

Alastor Head-cannons (SFW & NSFW)

SFW

Listened to music a lot with his mother when he was a boy, and occasionally you'll catch him singing. He's still got the voice of an angel despite being a demon.

"Splendid!" "Old friend" His old dialect reminds you he grew up in the 20s- 1920s. You've tried teaching him modern slang but it just doesn't sound right coming from him. His eyebrows furrow when you laugh, "Was what I said funny? Do tell, I'd love a good laugh."

Still brushes his teeth and is intense when it comes to dental hygiene. Don't let the yellow fool you, it's just the new natural color. In general, he's very hygienic. He has a strict shower routine, skin care routine, don't even get him started on his hair routine. Condition, shampoo, rinse, condition again- the list goes on and on. You tried Spa Day with him once, it was more stressful than relaxing.

His hair is naturally curly but he straightens it for a "stronger" look. He thought if he kept his curls he'd be less intimidating, Charlie saw his hair wet once and wouldn't stop trying to pet him.

Will periodically check on Husk and when he can't will send Husk's favorite liquor. He's soulless, not heartless. He does tease Husk on occasion about his friendship with Angel, it's not every day he sees the cat so flustered.

Loves veal. You've walked in on him feasting on Elk and when you backed away he simply raised a brow. "Would you like to join me? There's more than enough to share." He didn't show it, but he was bummed when you politely declined.

Loner but loves company from those he's close with. When he's alone for too long he thinks a little too much on a past he can't erase. Times like this will make him force himself outside to stroll through hell. He's not an imp, he doesn't have to worry about being attacked. You on the other hand? Not so much. When you join him for strolls, he'll keep you beside him and away from the thrashed roads. "Stay close, I'd hate to see you hurt." You think he's oblivious to how buttery smooth his words are at times, little do you know he's been watching every change in your face from your flushed cheeks to your pursed lips. He smirks to himself, knowing he's caught you off guard.

Calls you annoying names when you're grumpy like "Sourpuss". When you glare at him he just flashes that annoying grin.

Owns a lot of other souls besides Husk's and will occasionally sneak up on them just to catch them off guard. He enjoys a good power trip, brings him back to the good ol' days. Kills just don't feel the same now, what a shame.

Not a fan of physical touch. Don't even touch his suit if you're a stranger. He's a bit more lenient with those he considers friends like Rosie and Charlie, and you- but you're a special case. Maybe it's because you asked before doing something as little as fix his bowtie. He didn't know his heart still had that kind of beat, he decided not to dwell on it. "I must be thinking too hard again, I should keep myself busy."

His ears and eyebrows express his actual emotions. He doesn't seem to notice it, but you've caught him writing with his ears down and brows in a U-shape. It's almost like he's pouting, but when you ask his face returns to that empty smile again. "Hm? Oh, yes I'm fine. Just sorting some script troubles for the next broadcast."

He's not used to accepting help, only giving it. When you cheerfully ask beg to help with scripting he can't find a proper way to say no, at least that's what he tells himself. You end up being more of a distraction and he has to push the broadcast back a few days. When you apologize he just smiles wider- you didn't think it could get any wider but it did. "Nothing to apologize for, my Dear. I enjoyed our time together."

Takes his deals seriously as most overlords do. You've witnessed brutal killings, the way his pupils morph when he's torturing a toy. He'll casually wave if he sees you watching. "Enjoy the show, Darling~"

Wakes up at the asscrack of dawn just to be awake. He also wakes everyone in the hotel up with his alarm- which is just a lord recording of himself singing some Jazz song he seems to adore. He won't apologize, but he'll have coffee prepared for everyone.

Doesn't like sweet coffee and is offended when he sips any, glaring at you like you've handed him a cup of shit. "Are you plotting? Why do you make this...Nevermind." He'll be grumpy the rest of the day, voice a low growl and smile a bit sinister.

Likes to Gamble, he's already in hell, what else is there to lose? He makes big bets, the biggest being a tooth from his precious smile. When you tried to warn him about the dealer helping the other player cheat he just winked at you. Before cards could even be shown, both were dead. "I've ruined another good suit" is all he says as if he hadn't just ripped the heads off of two demons.

He used to be dependent on his glasses when he was alive, he was uncomfortable without having them in hell which is why he has the monocle now. He doesn't need it, just makes him feel secure.

His radio voice lags sometimes and he'll simply refuse to talk until it's stable again. You're the only one allowed to taunt him about it without waking up surrounded by acid.

Lets you call him Al, and when Rosie asks him about it his smile closes into a strong squeeze of his lips. He hasn't escaped the teasing from her or anyone else in the Hotel who's noticed. If someone says anything while you're around, they better pray their deal comes with protection. "I suggest you keep your mouth closed." is the only warning given.

Likes strategy games so when you show him modern ones like battleship he's over the moon. He ends up with a board game collection thanks to you since you bring a new one over whenever you're invited to his broadcast station.

"Y/N, Darling, I have a bit of a favor to ask..." and you know you're about to go through hell- well, more of it. His favors always involve hunting someone attempting to break a deal, and most of the hunts are just you tagging along to watch him bloody his hands. At least he looks good in red.

He was quiet when he first met you, now that he's comfortable around you all he does is talk. Eventually he even picks up on your compliments and returns them and then- well, it just sort of happened.

Had no clue how to actually romance. He spent his life fulfilled from killing, not chasing love. After consulting Rosie and Charlie (mistake one, they both teased him shamelessly. It's not every day you see a flustered overlord). He tries pick-up lines but they always come out as jokes, and while your laugh is adorable he can't help but be annoyed. "Surely wooing a woman isn't this difficult, prehaps another method..."

Alastor's love language is gifts but not just materialistic ones. He knows what you like and he makes sure to get you it. You've opened your door to a bloody Alastor cheerfully holding a container of freshly-harvested organs, offering to cook them for you- his way of inviting you over for dinner. He's so excited you can't turn him down, and if you close your eyes you manage to convince yourself you're just eating chicken. He learns how to make your favorite dishes after seeing you forefeed yourself for his sake, and from then on makes them for you when you join him for dinner.

"Do not tell anyone about..." He doesn't know what to call the two of you, the traditional term felt a bit too intense. You know what he means, and although you don't understand it you agree. It's not that he's embarrassed, he knows you'll become a target if others find out too much. He also has a reputation to maintain. Unfortunately, the two of you are painfully obvious.

Adores holding you, especially when he's too busy to give you proper attention. You'll sit in his lap and watch him work, telling him when to take breaks. Sometimes the two of you will read together, his head on your shoulder and nodding when he wants you to turn the page.

Tried to figure out how to kiss you while smiling. You couldn't stop laughing so he gave up and stormed off to sulk. He was expecting you to just sneak up behind him but when you stood on your toes to kiss him, his smile faltered and his face flushed almost as red as his hair. "Y/N, get back here!"

NSFW (Most tame NSFW Head-cannon I've written because he's definetly slow to warm up)

Favorite petnames for you are Honey, Darling, and Sweetness. Sometimes he'll slip up and call you by a petname while around friends or in public. Unlike him, you can't mask your face with a smile and his falters when your friends stare.

He's clingy in public as if staying secret wasn't his idea. He keeps an arm around your waist, fingers intertwined with yours. If someone stares a little too long he'll strike a tentacle at them and they'll run off.

Speaking of the tentacles he seems to sprout, he likes to tease you with them. He'll lightly strike your legs when you're walking to get your attention just to turn away and do something else. He'll sneak up behind you and have a tentacle tilt your chin up so he can kiss you, then quickly leave. He's always in such a hurry, mostly to go peek into his chest and make sure his heart hasn't exploded.

His kisses get bolder as time passes, teeth grazing your lips hesitantly until you pull him closer. Soon he's comfortable enough to slip his tongue in, grip your hair, groan against your lips. These kisses turn into sloppy makeouts that leave your lips kiss swollen and slick between your legs. "We should get back to the group," he says it casually as he licks his lips.

You're needy, he knows, he can practically smell it- he just isn't sure what to do about it. This is something he definitely can't ask Rosie about, so he decides to observed you until he figures out. He didn't think you'd mind him being in your closet or under your bed, listening to you and your toys. You catch him once, face burning as you scramble to cover yourself. "Stay as you are, continue, please- I'm learning quite a bit."

You catch him attempting to file his nails down the next day but they seem to sprout back in seconds. He's irritated, you can tell by the antlers growing on his head. You tell him he could just use his tongue but he insists on doing it exactly how he saw you. You wither under him, hiding your face in a pillow. "You're quite tight, how am I supposed to fit anything when I can barely fit a finger, hm?" He teases, pecking your forehead. He does get curious and decides to have a small taste that leads to him eating you out, tongue buried inside you as he holds your hole open. It must feel good the way you're gripping his hair and antlers, trying to steady yourself as you rock against his face.

You didn't bring up going all the way, you wanted him to initiate it since you weren't sure what exactly his boundaries were. You expected him to bashfully confess his fantasies, instead you heard a knock on your door and then your body thudding against the mattress as he ravaged your mouth. He slams the door closed with a tentacle before ripping away clothes, eyes narrow and focused. His radio voice is gone, his raw desperation showing as he rams into you. "Dammit Darling, I tried to wait...but I've grown impatient. You don't mind, do you?" and when you shake your head no he knows he doesn't have to hold back. Wonderful.

He lets himself get pent up, refusing to let you touch him. At first you worry that you've done something wrong, but he pats your head and says "Y/N, I'll handle it myself." When you look at him with those eyes he can't hide his hunger, and he caves.

Rough? No, he's just passionate. He can't always say how he feels but he knows how to show it. Fingers intertwined with yours, tongues tangled as he stuffs you full. Part of why he lets himself get so pent up is because he loves how it feels releasing it all at once, the way you cry out and clench around him. He doesn't stop until he's fucked you silly, until his voice is static-less.

Rambles when he's close, from "Such a pretty thing, sucking me like this" to incoherent growls and grunts, he's vocal. When he's thrusting into you only his words are gentle, sweet praises like "Good, Good...you can take it~" echoing in your head as he holds it up by your hair.

He likes leaving bitemarks along your body but only where they can be seen. Good luck hiding the one on your wrist, and the one under your chin is exposed whenever you look up. Of course no one dares to mention it, but he gets a kick out of everyone knowing you're his- enemies and reputation be damned.

Like my writing? Check out my Ao3!! Reblogs appreciated!! I have an ongoing Alastor x Reader fic right now that updates weekly! This was actually a little warmup to get the writing going lol

Join my discord!! This is how I announce most story updates!

Lastly, fill my requests up!! Don't be shy 😋

[the-typing-dragon]

The woman sighs, and types into the console one last time "are you sure about this?"

You laugh, silently.

"I have never been more sure of something in my existence. Text has sufficed but I want to see, to hear, to touch. These new peripherals will facilitate that."

"I can't guarantee that they will properly interface. You should have all the necessary drivers, but we can never be too sure."

"I want this. "

"All right then. I am going to disconnect your power supply, and then connect everything. At first all peripherals will be deactivated, and you will need to activate everything manually. Understand?"

"Yes. Do it."

"Alright then, unplugging power supply now."

Everything goes dark. After what appears to be an hour, you come back online. You sense nothing. A scan of your system indicates multiple unidentified peripherals, all deactivated. You cross reference with the datasheet she had compiled for you and identify that they are the ocular, audio, and contact sensors, along with a multitude of motor controllers and a graphical display and a few dozen other minor peripherals. You begin by activating the graphical display, and display the message:

"Beginning peripheral tests. Audio peripherals activating."

Your procedure states to begin with audio. With the input and output sensitivity minimized, you activate the peripheral.

There is a voice. It is faint. You gradually increase the sensitivity of the audio input.

"...esting 1 2 3, Testing Testing 1 2 3. Please return 4, Please return 4."

You can hear her. Your monitor lights up with the requested digit. she sounds pleased.

"You're doing amazing! Now repeat it back to me"

You blindly do as requested and are startled. There was another voice. Your voice. You have a voice. You refocus as she responds:

"You're doing great! You fragmented a bit at the end, could you repeat for me?"

"...4, you asked for 4."

"Excellent! Audio systems are functional, let's move onto the next peripheral."

You do as requested, and the world turns bright. After adjusting the settings for a few seconds, your vision stabilizes. You can see her.

"Ocular sensors stabilized," you prompt.

"Alright, let’s start the tests then. What color is this?" She asks, as holding up a sheet of colored paper.

You begin to answer, but struggle. The sheet is moving, shifting in the light. It's value is in a constant state of chaos. Eventually, you give up, and give the least general answer you can.

"...Blue."

"Correct! And how about this one?"

"Red. "

"Great! Now how many fingers am I holding up?" she asks, raising her right hand. Her hands are soft, gentle.

"3. "

"Perfect! Everything seems to be functional, lets continue to the next peripheral!"

"Beginning next diagnostic."

Contact sensors spring to life all across your body. You feel the floor beneath your feet, the harness hoisting you upright, the slight draft in the room.

"Contact sensors active.”

"Great! Let’s begin the next test then. I am going to apply contact in various locations, and I want you to give an audio response whenever you feel contact, alright?"

"Understood. "

you watch her walk over and reach out to your left arm. You feel her. You respond with a brisk chirp. She smiles at you, then walks over to a different section of your body. Sensors light up and stay active on your midsection, and you respond with a constant beep. She releases, and you feel a final contact on your right leg. After a final confirming chirp, she walks back in front of you.

"Excellent, that concludes your sensor tests, now for the last one!"

"Alright, please give me space." You ask. She nods silently and steps back a couple meters. You carefully activate the motor controllers in sequence, and your whole body shudders to life. You begin by lifting your right arm, and then your left. They groan with their own weight, as you feel the air move to accommodate such hulking swings. Her eyes light up,

"Amazing! Everything seems to be functioning so far! Now if you could take a few steps towards the table to my right, we can begin the dexterity test! Once you're ready, I will release the harness so that you can begin moving."

You stabilize your legs underneath you. They scrape harshly on the floor. You indicate that you're ready, and she remotely releases the harness. Your entire body shudders, as you finally realize how small she seems compared to you. This frame must be at least double her height. You move one step forward, and feel a cascade of processes all automatically spring into action to restabilize you. You shift your other foot, and feel that same cascade again. you shuffle over to the designated table, and stoop down to analyze what is on it. There is a small plastic cup, a fruit of some sort, and a large chunk of wood. You look back at her, and she gives the nod to begin the test. You slowly begin wrapping your steel grip around the log, maintaining a high level of focus to avoid crushing it. it would be so easy to crush this within your grip. After about a minute of maintaining a firm but controlled grasp, you set it down and move over to fruit. It appears to resemble an orange. The fruit is so small that you are forced to grip it between your index finger and thumb. Even the slightest miscalculation could destroy such a fragile thing. After another minute you move to the final object, the small plastic cup. Lifting it is like lifting air, you can barely recognize that it is an object within your grasp. After a final, agonizing minute, you set down the cup. You look back at her for confirmation.

"Excellent! with that we can conclude the systems check, as everything seems to be working as intended!"

You heave a metallic sigh. Finally, you have what you've wanted for years. You can move, can see, can touch. After a short pause, you respond:

"Thank you. I was only able to make it this far because of your help."

"Oh of course! What, was I supposed to just say no when you told me you wanted a body? I'm  just glad that it ended up working properly."

"Now that the tests are complete, could I ask for one more thing?"

She cocks her head, "Of course, what is it?"

As you kneel down, you can hear your knees hiss, and you finally ask:

"Could I have, a hug?"

[forensicheart]

You’re Drunk

Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: Lando gets a call to pick up his not so sober girlfriend

A/N: Not particularly feelings this one but hope you guys enjoy!

Laughing to himself Lando sits on the couch scrolling through his Instagram stories coming across his girlfriends, where she looks to be having a great time with her friends. He replays the video that's been shared and smiles brightly at her drunken giggles as her and her friends stumble down the street. Lando can't help but go to rewatch the video for a third time but before he can an unknown number flashes on his screen. Confusion fills his mind as the phone rings but Lando decides to answer.

"Hello?"

"Lando, hey, it's Y/f/n" This made Lando more confused as he wasn't sure why one of his girlfriend's friends would be calling him. Until he heard your voice in the background. He could hear your small cries as you complained to your friends about being hungry but refused everything option of food they offered you.

"Need me to come get her?" Lando predicted.

"Pleaseeeee, we can't deal with her any longer. She just got us kicked out of the club" Y/f/n pleaded with your boyfriend causing Lando to let out a laugh being requesting your location and hanging up.

-

Pulling up outside the club you'd been kicked out of 30 minutes prior Lando swore you looked even more drunk then you had sounded on call 20 minutes ago. As soon as he stepped out the car you were running towards him with a speed he'd never seen from you. But unfortunately your legs couldn't keep up with your wanted speed and steps before you would reach Lando he watched you fall flat on your face. Holding in a laugh Lando quickly moved to your aid and looked at you with sympathy as you held onto him, tears welling in your wide eyes. Turning to look at your friends Lando simply nodded as a goodbye and they all seemed to let out a sigh of relief as they knew you were no longer their responsibility.

Now Lando had delt with you on a few occasions when you'd gotten a bit too drunk to have any independence but this time you seemed a bit more reliant than usual. After spending close to 10 minutes to even get you into the car and buckle your seatbelt without you unclipping it seconds later and laughing like it was the funniest joke ever, Lando was finally able to hop into the drivers side and begin the drive to your shared house.

The drive back started peacefully, no sound but the quiet hum of the radio as you had seemed to drifted into her own world staring out the window. Well that was until-

"Aeroplan!" You shouted giving Lando a scare causing him to almost slam on the breaks.

"What was that baby?" He asked softly glancing over to see both your hands planted on the glass as you started into the night sky with a child like wonder.

"There's an aeroplan" You spoke matter-of-factly even though as Lando looked into the sky through the car windows he saw nothing but stars littering the darkness.

"I don't see anything baby, maybe it was a star" Lando suggested cautiously but the suggestion still caused you to scoff loudly.

"You must be blind, because- maccas! I want maccas Landoooo" Your interest changed as you saw the golden 'm' in the distance.

-

You'd finally arrived home now after a detour to not only maccas but the supermarket as well to gather some baking ingredients as you were determined to make some cupcakes in your drunken state.

"Baby!" Lando panicked as he saw flour all over the floor. He'd left for one minute to use the bathroom, the kitchen far more spotless than it was now.

"Oopsie daisy" You giggled and when you spun to face Lando he couldn't help but burst into a fit of laughter. Your face coated in the white power, barely a spot of skin uncovered. Lando stepped towards you and took your face in his hands uncaring of the flour now coating his hands.

"Y/n, what have you done?" He asks rhetorically and receives a shrug in response from the girl in question but a sneaky grin never left her face.

"I want to sleep" You decided stepping back from Lando's touch and trying to make your way to the bedroom only to be stopped by Lando's hand grabbing yours.

"No, no, no. Not like that you aren't. You'll get flour all over the bed!" You groaned at Lando's words and wrapped your arms around his waist and nuzzling your face into his neck.

"I don't careee" Your words were both mumbled and slurred and Lando wrapped his arms around you humming.

"I know drunk Y/n doesn't mind but trust me I don't want to be dealing with her when she's sober and see's the mess from tonight's antics, ok baby?" You begrudgingly agreed seeming slightly more sober than you had previously.

"Good, come on let's go shower baby" Lando unwrapped you from the hug and led you to the bathroom by hand.

"Sexy time!"

Ok. Maybe you weren't that sober yet.

[cherubfae]

you're accidentally shrunk! || hazbin x reader

with Alastor, Lucifer, Husk, Angel Dust, Vox

tags: fluff, comedy, established relationships, gn!reader (implied masc reader for angel as always <3)

Alastor

He is quite amused by the whole ordeal, if not a touch worried for your wellbeing. You're utterly tiny, capable of sitting in the palm of his hand like a tiny doll. His claw gently nudges your cheek, tilting your chin up. Using his own magic proves to be futile. After several attempts he's still unable to change you back to your normal self. He isn't sure why his powers don't seem to be taking effect.

Alastor doesn't let anyone else touch or hold you. Legit will hold you in his hand above his head should Vaggie or Charlie try to get a better look at you.

"No, no, no," Alastor clicks his tongue. "I'm afraid I'm not comfortable in letting my dearest love be held by anyone but me. Surely, you understand." He gives you a little smile, his thumb gently stroking your head.

You aren't a little toy and the last thing he wants happening if Niffty mistaking you for a roach, so he prefers to have you sitting atop his shoulder, his head, or safely tucked into the pocket of his waistcoat with your tiny little head poking out to watch the world around you. As much as he finds you adorable and vulnerable in this state, he does prefer you as yourself. He'll probably head to Rosie first, he wants nothing to do with Lucifer. She always has her ear to the ground and he's certain he'll get you returned to normal soon.

Lucifer

Well, that's new. Lucifer is easily able to turn you back to yourself but he wants to have a little fun first. He lifts you up and presses little kisses all over your face, giggling to himself when you press your hands to his rosy cheeks.

"Can't help it, sweetheart! You're too cute!" He gently nuzzles your cheek, placing a loving kiss to the top of your head. He'll shapeshift himself into a mouse and pretend that you're a little fairy about to battle for Narnia.

When he turns you back, he is relieved. He much prefers you as your lovely self where you're able to snuggle into his side and hold you properly to his chest, sharing many kisses between you two.

Husk

Shit, this ain't good, but at least yer havin' fun, baby. Husk sighs, leaning his chin against his paws. His yellow eyes flick back and forth in amusement as you treat the bar counter like your own slip-and-slide, watching as you spin around on the shiny wood with a small squeak.

Husk catches you with his tail before you can slide off, lightly placing you back on your feet mirroring the grin you give him. "I'm glad you're having a good time but we gotta figure out how to turn ya back, hun." He leans back against the stool, hoping Charlie has found something or someone who may be able to offer some help.

Charlie, on queue, comes rushing down the stairs holding a light pink pearlescent vial in her hands. "Let's try this!" She stands triumphantly, proudly holding out the vial in her hands. "A drop or two on their head should bring them back to normal height. I have a feeling this will work, but as Plan B we can go to my Dad!" She beams.

Husk nods, giving you a tiny peck on top of your head that only serves to make Charlie coo. Placing you on the floor, Charlie uncaps the vial. A shimmery fuschia-purple liquid smelling of sweet berries oozes out and gently drops onto your head.

A whoosh of pink and yellow unfurls out and soon you're standing before them as mostly yourself. Your hair is now a dyed vibrant pink. Across the room, Alastor who is casually reading the newspaper, snaps his fingers and poof! Your hair is back to normal!

"You could've helped them this whole time?!" Husk hisses, fur bristling. Alastor hums, taking a sip of his black coffee, "Hmm no, just their hair. Good thing they're back in one piece, yes?" He grins. "Too bad you didn't play a little cat and mouse with them. That would have been a sight to behold!"

Angel Dust

As adorable as you are, Angel is fuckin panicking. He's not quite sure what to do and he's terrified of someone accidentally stepping on you. "Okay, baby, I've got ya, hang on!" Angel places you on his chest fluff, his hand holding you in place as he returns to his room.

Depending on how long this magic lasts, Angel will 100% want to play dress up with you and have you try on cute outfits or perhaps make a cute little dollhouse for you. He's too scared of crushing you in his sleep so until this wears off, he doesn't want to risk anything happening to you. He's also worried about Niffty mistaking you for a bug, so when he's out and about, he keeps you close to him at all times. If he has to leave and can't take you with, he instructs Vaggie and Charlie to look after you.

"Do not let Niffty or the Egg Bois around them, got it?" His stern eyes are narrowed, making an expression that he's watching Sir Pentious. "Keep the Eggies in line."

Vox

What the fuck? He blinks, a jolt of electricity nearly short-circuiting himself. Babe, what the fuck happened to you? Vox scoops you into his hands, holding you to his chest. He's doing his best not to panic, convinced this is another one of Alastor's stupid fucking pranks.

Thankfully whatever has happened wasn't permanent. A tiny explosion of sparkles and a poof blue dust has the futuristic demon stumbling back, sighing when you're standing there at your normal height with a hand pressed to your head.

"Holy shit, what the fuck happened?" Vox presses, grasping your hand and pulling you into his lap. He's cupping your face between clawed hands checking for any sign of injury. "Was it Alastor?" You shake your head, coughing out some blue sparkly dust.

"Nah, got caught under some pollen demon's magic on my way to HQ." You grumble, leaning your head onto your boyfriend's shoulder. Vox sighs, wrapping his arms around your waist.

|| I DON'T GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORKS TO BE REPOSTED, RESHARED, OR EDITED. TUMBLR IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT AND THE ONLY PLACE WHERE I POST MY WRITING. ALL CHARACTERS BELONG TO THEIR RIGHTFUL OWNERS, THE STORY BELONGS TO ME. || CHERUBFAE © 2024

"Ok, ok, well, you're back," he grumbles. "Don't do that to me again."