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astridselixir · 7 months

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"𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐢𝐭. 𝐊𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠."

Pairings: Yoru x fem!reader

Summary: After a stressful day filled with missions and nonstop training sessions which involved Brimstone yelling at everyone around, it was safe to say that you and Yoru were exhausted. So, as always, you two decided to let off some steam. And what better way to do that than to have his pretty lover, you, ride him?

Warnings: p in v, riding, use of pet names, bit of degradation, unprotected sex, breeding, porn w/o plot

(A/n: When I heard Yoru say this in a match, I just knew I had to write it. Istg, I go feral everytime this man speaks.)

(NSFW below the cut!)

ִ ࣪𖤐*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

“That’s it. Keep going.” Yoru breathes out, hands tightly gripping your hips as you moved up and down on his length, whines and moans of pleasure escaping your lips every now and then. Such pretty sounds, he thinks. But then again, everything about you was pretty.

“Look at you. Fuck. Such a slut for my cock, hm?” You were far too out of it to even process what he said, so you only nodded, hoping you weren’t making a fool of yourself in front of him

Seeing this, he chuckles, squeezing your supple flesh reassuringly as he continues to watch you ride him, guiding you here and there. What a glorious sight; Yoru knew this image of you would be stuck in his head for days. He relished in the way you bounced on him, tits mimicking the movement of your hips as you lost yourself in pleasure. He wished he could stay in this moment forever, within the warmth of your gummy walls.

Your eyes were screwed shut, head thrown back with a fucked out expression painted across your face. One hand was firmly planted behind you, on top of Yoru’s leg as you straddled him while the other rubbed quick circles on your clit.

Fuck, you looked like a goddess. He was losing his mind over how heavenly you appeared to be as you played with yourself.

You could say this was your favorite part of the day; sexual tension finally getting released in the bedroom, relieving both you and Yoru. This is definitely what you both need after such a stressful day. A good fuck.

I mean, working as an agent for Valorant was stress itself alone. And it’s worse knowing either of you could get injured at any given moment, or maybe even die. But you try not to think about it too much as it would only make things worse.

As you both continued, it was as if fumes from your intimate activity were clouding the entire room, creating an atmosphere of sex and need. One that felt warm and moist on your skin, added with a bit of familiarity.

“F-fuck. ‘m close, so close.” You uttered out, hips desperately grinding on Yoru’s to reach that sweet climax you’ve been working so hard for.

Hearing this, he bites his bottom lip, forcing a stop to your movements which earned a frustrated exhale from you. You opened your eyes, vision slightly hindered by tears as you turned to look at him. You tilted your head to the side, shifting in your position while giving him a look of confusion.

The agent only chuckled at this, amused by your frustration. He enjoyed seeing you suffer— it was a guilty pleasure of his. He rubbed small comforting circles onto the skin of your hips before answering,

“Come here, my love. You’ve done so much work already, let me take care of the rest.”

The minute those words left his mouth, butterflies exploded in your stomach, an even warmer sensation coating your already hot cheeks. You nodded eagerly as you moved, leaning down and wrapping your arms around his neck, nuzzling your face into his skin and planting soft kisses on it. He in response, smiled at this, kissing the side of your head before placing his hands on your back, rubbing it soothingly and getting into a comfortable position— one that he can easily thrust into.

“I love you so much.” He whispered, tucking away a strand of hair behind your ear.

Just when you were about to respond, you were cut off when Yoru slammed his hips into yours, the tip of his cock instantly kissing your cervix, causing your mouth to hang open and your eyes to roll back. The words died down on your throat, getting replaced by a loud moan that was both from surprise and pleasure as he practically drilled into your dripping cunt.

Babbles of his name rolled off of your tongue like a prayer, nails digging into his skin as you mewled, the sensation becoming almost too much to bear.

Oh, you were so close. So close that you were practically hovering over the edge. All you needed now was just something to push you off, and luckily for you, Yoru knew exactly how to do that.

Tears slipped out of your eyes, rolling down your cheeks as you sobbed, begging the man beneath you to let you cum.

“Wanna cum so bad. Please, please, please. Please let me cum.” You cried out, your whole body shaking as Yoru continued his abuse on your wet heat.

He smirked upon hearing your words, holding you tighter against him, his hands leaving marks on your hips that will surely bruise tomorrow.

“Aww, my little princess wants to cum? Go on then. Make a mess on my cock like the whore you are.” He cooed, both amusement and mockery evident on his tone. He loved seeing you like this. A literal begging mess that was ready to be picked up and pieced back together. He swears he cums almost instantly when he hears that cute, little voice of yours plead for his approval.

That was all you needed to reach your peak. It felt as if you toppled over the edge, a burst of ecstasy shooting throughout your body like electricity, sending aftershocks and waves of euphoria to ripple through your whole being. You let out an almost pornographic moan, sending the man beneath you over the edge as well.

Yoru moaned as he shot thick ropes of cum inside of you, filling you up to the brim and coating your velvety walls white. He continued to sloppily thrust, pushing his seed deeper and making sure it wasn’t dripping out. He wasn’t allowing even a single drop to go to waste.

Oh, fuck. The sole image of you swelled with his child made his eyes roll back, a shiver running down his spine at the thought of getting you pregnant. If that were to happen, he’d surely be overjoyed. But of course, he’ll always leave that choice up to you.

After that, you both stayed still, breathing heavily as you tried to calm down from your previous high. You were exhausted, sweaty, and satisfied. You couldn’t have thought of any better way to end this day.

“I love you…” You murmured, words slighty incoherent, but you’ve been with Yoru long enough for him to know exactly what you said. Your eyes slowly closed, a sigh of contentment leaving your lips while his hand smoothed over your back, occasionally tracing shapes on your skin to help you fall asleep faster.

Once Yoru was sure you were knocked out, he slowly pulled out and gently laid you down on the bed. He then got up, slipping on a fresh pair of boxers before going into the bathroom to grab a damp towel. He also grabbed clean clothes for you to change into before walking back to the bed.

He sat down on the edge, admiring your sleeping form for a while and the peaceful look you had on your face. God, you were so beautiful (he lost count of how many times he said that already), he adored every single thing about you. From your curves to your beauty marks, everything. You were the sheer image of perfection in his eyes. No one could ever compare to you. A literal supermodel could be in the same room as him, yet he’d only have his eyes on you.

Shortly after ogling over your beauty, Yoru got to work and began wiping you down. He made sure you were as clean as possible before changing you into the clean undergarments he brought. He also took off the sheets and threw them in the laundry basket, not bothering to put on new ones since he was too tired and didn’t want to disrupt your slumber.

Once he was done, he got under the covers and pulled you into his embrace, giving you one last kiss on the forehead as you snuggled closer to him. He smiled once he felt this, causing him to think that you were seeking his warmth— you were. That alone was enough to reassure Yoru, allowing him to drift off to sleep with his mind at ease.

(A/n: Alrightyy, I just needed to finish this one so I could finally start working on the requests I have! Thank you sm to all the anons that sent me requests! I love y’all 🫵🤍 Hope you guys have/had a great day‼️🎊)

#valorant #valorant x reader #yoru valorant #yoru x reader #smut #riot games #chamber valorant #cypher valorant #skye valorant #killjoy valorant #harbor valorant #astra valorant #brimstone valorant #sage valorant #omen valorant

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khuzena · 2 years

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The valorant protocol when their s/o is so good at cooking

Valorant protocol (boys ver) x any gender!reader

Tw: fluff and crack and someone has probably did this before but idgaf this is my take. Small smut because these men are just down bad for you.

(chamber, yoru,kay/o, phoenix, brimstone, breach, cypher, sova ,omen)

Chamber

He often cooks for his own meals and he doubts that anyone would ever cook for him out of the blue.

It was probably at morning he first tasted your meal, you, at the corner of his workshop with a bowl of Cream of mushroom soup for him, he was surprised at this sudden gesture and was held back at the strong aroma of it.

He took a bite and the way the flavors swirled in his mouth, he often eats at luxurious restaurants but your cooking is infinitely times better than what the others can offer.

He enjoyed every bite and wanted to taste every delicious delicacy that you can give, he'll provide you with a credit card with no limits, telling you to use as much as you need for your cooking appliances or ingredients as such.

Chamber would gift you some cook book recipes at random times, just open your cabinet and you'd see a shopping bag with french culinary cook book with literally every recipe. (If you do use that cook book, he'd be delighted and would want to be the first person who tries your food)

When he's busy though, he'd just quickly munch on some treat you made and would kiss you goodbye, tasting the whip cream on his lips as he goes to work.

Yoru

Much like chamber, he won't ever cook for anyone in the protocol other than himself and you, he lives off instant ramen and tonkatsu like a broke ass college student but yeah he's at an average level when it comes to cooking.

When he first tasted some dessert you mafe for him, preferably tiramisu, he savored every bite but his pompous ass can't set his ego aside to compliment your skills.

He'd sometimes watch you cook in the kitchen and hide in the corner of the room, admiring how you absolutely handle the spatula and every ingredient with elegance and deft. (However, if you do catch him sneaking around he'll quickly run away and won't face you until you bug him and would make a shitty excuse that it wasn't his intention to watch[it was])

Yoru sometimes teases you that you cooked food for him because you're so in love with him and so you shut him up with a spoon of cake you made.

Kay/o

He can't eat or smell food so sometimes he'll just watch you eat the food you make and watch you make it.

Even though he can't eat it, he likes watching you cook and would offer to help you prepare or make some dishes if you'd like.

Kay/o thinks the dishes you make are a work of art because it looks aesthetically pleasing and even if it doesn't, he knows you pour your heart out everytime you decide to cook some food.

Sometimes he'd ask you what your food tastes like so even if he can't eat it, he'll have an idea of how good it tastes.

He once tried to cook food but he accidentally spilled water in his hard drive and malfunctioned as you just froze there not knowing what to do, kay/o wanted to impress you too but instead of that he got a lecture instead, and some kisses. (Metal kiss yay)

Phoenix

Everytime you cook for him when he's stressed or just hungry, he feels like he's more down bad for you because I think he's the type to find people who are good chefs very attractive.(not all though, just you)

When he tried their cooking, he was absolutely hooked and would be begging for seconds.

If his s/o could bake, he'd ask for some small snacks like cookies or macaroons if they could; I can see him that when he's busy like in a mission, he'd take out a small snack that you made from his pocket and eat it so he could calm down.

He'll definitely be the type to brag to the others that 's/o made me this, that blah blah blah' to no end because he's just so smitten with you and proud of you.

When you visited his family, you cooked so much food his mothers were literally asking you if you were phoenix's lover, phoenix had to resist the urge to call you his wife/husband because you're just perfect in his eyes.

Brimstone

Oh boy, in his days before, he tasted a lot of good food whether it was travelling or with his friends in the past, he's tasted a lot but it seems like decades worth of food isn't as delectable as yours.

He'd be quick to praise every bite of the food you offered him and even asked if you would like to be some sort of protocol's chef. (He'd pay you good but if you'd like, he'd pay you in other cough cough ways.)

I don't know but I think I saw some voiceline of cypher ranting to brimstone that they run out of that specific drink and how the rest of the protocol seems to be drinking all his expensive tea and telling brim to buy their shit so the others could stop; brimstone is like the father to the protocol and fixes most of the problems, and if you were to tell him that oh you run out of ingredients he'd be coming back to the base with literally trucks worth of groceries.

There are times he'd stop his work and just stare at you with love-struck eyes while you did your work in the kitchen, the other agents however either teased you or found it cringe on how you guys look like those old couples.

Breach

He's a criminal for fucks sake he lived in the underground for probably a long time now and he's tasted some good food sometimes but would just eat easy-to-make food that wouldn't take too much time. (And also why would you spend an hour making meals when the police is at your tail, coulda spent that hour running away from them, he says)

But he'll encourage you to make more food since it's too good and that you shouldn't waste that talent of yours.

Like kay/o, Breach would help you in the kitchen whether it's just cutting up some onions or frying an omelette, well if he can't help you with that he'll just help you with cough cough other ways. (Y'all nasty)

He thinks you're a better chef than jett and when she found out she was butt hurt from his comment, like she's a god damn sous chef but don't worry they're both aware you're probably one of the best, if not the best chef in the protocol.

I can see he's the type to do tiny gestures like small kisses or quick hugs when you brew him coffee or cook up some swedish meatballs after or before he does workout training with the others.

Cypher

I wanted to mention an angst like you cooking like a fucking chef god and it reminds him of his wife, his old family eating happily together but that's not the point.

Cypher loves your cooking, it makes him feel so warm inside and, like the rest, would praise you about how amazing your culinary skills are.

He once made a joke that you should open up a restaurant and that he'll be the first one to eat there, but if you really did, he'd eat there regularly.

I can see him as someone who has a sweet tooth so if you were to make like Moroccan desserts like, meskouta orange cake or Baklava, god damn it he'll literally get pumped up in his work and would work harder, almost like it was the most intense energy food ever.

Cypher would be the type to take pictures of your food and would put it in some photo book and surprise you with it and label some of it with sticky notes like, 'dessert 1: tastes delicious but you taste better', you smacked him in the forehead after though.

Sova

When he was younger, his babushka would make the most mouthwatering meal he's ever tasted.

Once sova has took a bite of yours, he thinks that your skill level is literally on par with his babushka's. (Remember, grandmas are literally the best chefs idc what y'all say, someone telling you your cooking is like better than their grandma's is the greatest compliment ever)

When you're cooking in the kitchen, expect him at the counter just watching your every move and patiently waiting for you to finish so he can take a bite of it.

After he finishes his meal, he'll kiss and hug you, telling you that everything you feed him tastes wonderful and how he'd want you to be his wife/husband.

If you're open for some suggestions on what to cook next, he'd make a list of food like russian food or new combinations you could try and would be the first, like the rest, to taste it.

Everytime you just give him a warm smile and try to feed him with some pasta for example, he has to resist the urge to not take you here and now because god damn that pasta looks tasty as fuck but you both know what's tastier. (Wink wonk)

Omen

Like kay/o he can't eat or drink but let's say hypothetically he can, he barely eats because he doesn't have to, he can't explain it properly that he's not hungry but he's craving for the meals you make, and your's only.

It's just that he feels happy when he eats it, he thinks it tastes good and the smile on your face when you watch him savor every bite makes him enjoy it more.

Both yoru and him do watch in the shadows/corners of the kitchen room but the difference is he's not shy when he gets caught, he'd knit you a tiny hat with little food designs because he thinks you'll like it while intently watching on how you concoct the greatest 3-star Michelin dish made.

While you cook in the kitchen, he'd wrap his arms around your waist as you both watch some food literally spinning in the microwave.

He lied one time to you that he actually needed to eat just so you could cook some food for him regularly, but when you gave him someone else's cooking he said he didn't want it and that's how you found out he lied.

In conclusion:

You're their spouse. Anyways i hope y'all enjoyed this, i despise this tbh

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valorantmenheadcanons · 2 years

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Hiii ok so. I wanna hear your headcannons for their various kinks/preferences/fav positions. Hehe

absolutely love

nsfw content below the cut

Sova

this man absolutely has a thing about size differences between him and his partner

even if he’s only a little bit bigger than them it still does things to him. He just likes the feeling of someone under him, completely surrounded by him, protected by him

he loves giving and will happily receive if you offer but likes to focus on you

hes big in every sense of the word so don’t worry if you can’t take all of him

he might have a little bit of a thing about primal but he’s so gentle all the time it barely counts

if you want him to be rough you really gotta ask and even then he’s worried he’ll hurt you by accident

traffic light system all the way baybeeeee

he likes missionary the most because he can see every inch of you and kiss all over

surprisingly vocal, he wants you to hear how good you make him feel

Cypher

We all know how much of a dirty talker cypher is gonna be

the things coming out of his mouth would have lucifer dripping wet

and that’s not the only thing he can do with his tongue ;)

fr tho he is so into praising and degrading his partner

the mask isn’t gonna come off for a while, he’s nervous, he’s insecure, a little bit paranoid

but give him some time and you’ll be able to see all of him

he likes to make you beg for him to touch you and he likes it more if you use his real name doing it

he likes taking it slow cos he just likes taking his sweet time and drawing every noise out of you

although if you’d like him to hurry up just tell him so and he will put every inch of his body to use in making you feel good

he also likes recording you giving him head; the way you look up at him (and the camera) makes his knees weak every time

Chamber

Wear his clothes please he wants to ruin you in them

He has the biggest fucking thing about his partner smelling like him and you know it’s a distinct smell too with this dudes expensive cologne

will mark you up with hickeys and little love bites and will let you do the same to him, just not above his collarbones

he likes to look professional as we know

mirror sex

hands on your hips, around your neck, probably would leave some light marks from how tight he holds you

its a mildly possessive thing

suck on his fingers please

he likes being the dom cos he likes the control and he prefers to pleasure his partner more than himself but he can be convinced to sub

and oh man

the breathy moans and whimpers he’ll let out only for you

edge him and he becomes a bitch in heat

he has a little shred of pride left tho so don’t expect him to beg, he won’t (punish him as you like for that)

Yoru

rough sex but in a loving way

he has a thing for biting you.. he won’t apologise if he draws blood

MIGHT have a thing about knife play but only if his partner is okay with it and even then it’s more for show than actual using

he likes quick casual sex, he’s not as much of a fan of loooooooong sessions

drag your nails down his back, he likes looking it at in the mirror after

he fucking loves getting head

and he can be persuaded to give oral back, just make sure you pull on his hair, it gets him riled up

hes a thigh man

let him fuck them and he will love you forever

not as into kissing, but will still give you lots to show his appreciation

oh and degradation, if that wasn’t already obvious, I mean it’s yoru we’re talking about

(he doesn’t mean it tho and he will never cross any line his partner sets up, he’s just being a little bitch)

Omen

PRIMAL BABY

he growls he snarls he pants like a dog in your ears

he’s careful about his claws but if you want him to use them he will

scratches you up a bit

i think he’d like doggy style the most cos he can pin you down so easily

hes not much for dirty talking but he makes up for it with the noises he makes

yknow how it’s kind of hinted at in some voice lines that he can feel emotions n stuff? (Like razes laughter, and ofc fear)

he can feel his partner’s pleasure

it only amps him up more

he very much likes to bring you to tears from overstimulation

has a breeding kink even though he can’t get anyone pregnant

he just likes the idea of fucking someone so full

and that someone is gonna be you!

has a thing about smells AND biting you. He wants you to smell like him and he’ll leave a nice bite mark or twenty to claim you

tbh I think he’d have a low sex drive on his own, but he’s more than willing to make his partner feel good if they’re needy

Phoenix

Keeps a fan pointed at his bed during sex because he will heat up and he doesn’t want his partner dying of heat stroke

hes not the best at oral but A for effort

those fingers tho 😳

it’s canon he’s a musician is all I’m saying

fr tho he can and will have you cum from his fingers alone

if you give him head he turns into the whiniest mess, that’s the quickest way to turn him into a sub

ass man

let him grab it

but he might just start playing with it tbh LMAO

he also likes tummies! Please let him finish on you, he thinks it’s so fucking hot

keeps a good rhythm when he’s fucking

sex with him includes lots of joking around and laughing, that’s just who he is

kiss his neck he will MELT

Kayo

he’s a robot and is lacking in a face and equipment down there

thank god strap ons exist

pro of being a robot: doesn’t tire and can go as long as you want

he doesn’t have a sex drive so you gotta tell him when you want it

he also had no idea how it worked so first he watched some ✨videos✨to get an idea

the first few times he will need some guidance on how to make you feel good, but he commits these to memory

its not long until he figures out what you like most

vibrating fingers anyone?

him participating in sex is entirely for his partner, so expect lots of praise

whatever you want he will do

he won’t admit that he does really like watching his partner masturbate

may or may not possess the ability to record what he sees

he only looks at it to see what you react to tho, he just wants to pleasure you the best way he can :>

Harbor

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again

hes a service top

slow sex, lots of praise, massaging

fucks you slow but deep

loves giving oral

but lets.. turn the tide (I’m so sorry AHA)

if you get this man to sub/bottom

he takes it like a challenge

you can drag it on as long as you want, he won’t cum

so how do you win? Overwhelm him

kiss him with a hand in his hair, stroke him or go down on him or fuck him, touch his chest he likes it

tell him he’s doing such a good job, make him watch himself come undone

he is still the king of aftercare but if you topped please help him lmao

his legs are jelly and he is too fucked out to think straight

Breach

He worries about hurting you with his arms tbh

or just being too rough with you

hes a big guy and he knows it

would prefer if you were on top of him, just gives him peace of mind

for all that breach is loud and chaotic, I really think he’d be into cuddlefucking or just holding his partner close to him

the braid comes out. It was an accident the first time but seeing him with mussed hair and blown eyes is a Look and it stays

honestly I think he’d be a switch. Whatever you’re down for, he’s down for

hes probably a try-everything-once kind of guy, don’t be surprised if y’all start getting intimate and he brings up something he read online that you’ve never heard of

he holds you like you’re this fragile thing he might break, please show him you’re not

loses his mind when you ride him

big fan of taking naps after sex, you can just collapse on top of him or roll over and he’ll bear hug you

Brimstone

vanilla tbh

but experienced

this man knows how to fuck and he knows how to fuck good

Used to like being called sir, the military mildly ruined that for him

he’s a hard dom, don’t expect this man to ever sub or anything

you could maybe get him to bottom, but never sub

has a thing for spanking and power play (another side affect of the military ahahaa)

doesn’t have a favourite position, he likes all of them

he likes feeling bigger than his partner

would choke you if you asked him to but he probably wouldn’t do it on his own

he fucking loves dirty talking and teasing

this man rarely gets a break but when he does, you’re in for a long night

#valorant #valorant x reader #valorant headcanons #valorant sova #valorant cypher #valorant omen #valorant chamber #valorant yoru #valorant harbor #valorant fanfiction #valorant phoenix #valorant breach #valorant brimstone #valorant kay/o #valorant smut

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oldshowbiz · 9 months

Text

1974.

#fire and brimstone #censorship #vintage smut

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midnightartemis · 2 years

Text

Hellfire and Brimstone

Chapter 3

Eddie Munson x afab!reader (she/her), sheltered!reader

Rating: E

CW/TW: Abortion, talk of pregnancy, mentions of rape (coercion by a partner- not Eddie), drug use, religious trauma, abuse, angst, hurt/comfort… let me know if I missed any

AN: chapter one updated to reflect some changes. Jason and reader are no longer dating. Reader was Chrissy’s best friend before her death. Jason is still the father and still a dick.

Previous - Next - Masterlist

It was done.

You felt like hell and you were pretty sure you’d broken Eddie’s hand from squeezing it.

But it was done.

Minus what you were sure was going to be the worst period of your life.

They’d sent you away with a birth control prescription and some antibiotics and that was that.

Eddie only let go of your hand to change the tapes as he drove. Soft acoustic music you didn’t recognize hummed through the van. His hand returned to yours right away. Like it fit. Like it was supposed to be right there.

Maybe you were just hormonal and exhausted and reading too much into it. Eddie was just being nice. Comforting you like a friend would.

He didn’t let go the whole way back to the trailer. He couldn’t. Not after seeing you go through that procedure. Not after hearing the pained noises you made after the doctor told you that you would “just feel a pinch”.

When he did pull up to the trailer, he let go of your hand long enough to run around to the passenger door and help you out. Up the steps in to the trailer. Right into his uncle wearing nothing but a wife beater and boxers as he cooked in the kitchen.

“Hey kid, what the hells with all the eggs?” His uncle turned around with the plate of leftover eggs in his hands. “Oh shit. Didn’t realize you were bringing a lady around.”

“Sorry. Left a note on the fridge.” Eddie nodded to it.

You shifted beside him, trying you best to look fine. “Hi, Mr. Munson.”

“Please, Wayne’s just fine, darlin’.” Wayne frowned when he saw you wince.

“Sorry, not feeling well. I think I’m going to lay down for a bit.” You glanced up at Eddie.

“Take the bed.”

You glanced at Wayne nervously. His uncle had already turned back to his meal, dutifully trying to ignore the both of you. Eddie nudged you towards his room and you went reluctantly let go of his hand and shuffled off down the hall. You closed the door to his room behind you.

Wayne eyed Eddie with a raised brow. “She okay?”

Eddie let out a deep sigh. “She will be.”

“Anything I should be worried about?”

Eddie shook his head. His uncle didn’t look convinced. Eddie couldn’t blame him after everything that happened with with Chrissy and the “earthquakes”. His uncle was smart enough to know something deeper and darker had happened than what Eddie let on. Eddie wanted to tell him, but he’d come to the same conclusion as he always had. The less the people around him knew, the better.

“You know where to find me.” His uncle grunted.

The guilt settled in as Eddie watched his uncle disappear back into his room with a plate of food. Wayne had done so much for him and all Eddie seemed to do was make it harder on the man. At least this year there was a decent chance he would actually graduate.

The phone rang just as Eddie was about to go grab the bags of food from the car. He picked it up on the third ring. “Sup?”

“Dude, are you going to make it tonight?” Gareth’s voice echoed on the other end.

“Shit. No, something came up.”

“What the fuck, man? You never miss practice.” Jeff yelled from somewhere further off.

“I know. Go without me. Reschedule. Fuckin’ I don’t know.”

“Reschedule? What–”

Eddie hung up the phone. They’d figure it out. He had to take care of you. He couldn’t help Chrissy, but he could help you.

Wait.

Fuck.

No.

Was it happening again? History repeating itself once more. Eddie glanced up at the ceiling. No. Everything was fine. It had to be. In less than three weeks he’d be walking across that stage and getting the fuck out of Hawkins.

Vecna was gone and you were safe.

Best he make sure though. He knocked on the door to his room and hear a faint, “Come in.”

He peeked in to find you curled up under a blanket in his bed. “Sorry about my uncle. He’ll be gone in a few hours. Shift at the plant.”

Your eyes widened in understanding. He could see that you wanted to ask why he lived with his uncle and not his parents. You didn’t though. “Is he okay with me staying?”

“He doesn’t care. I’m gunna grab the rest of the stuff from the van.” And then…. What? Eddie tapped the door frame. “Watch a movie, if you want.”

“I don’t really want to move.” You mumbled. “Not right now.”

“Yeah.” Shit. “Right. Makes sense. I…”

“Was that one of your friends on the phone?”

“Yeah, but, it’s nothing.” Eddie shrugged. He didn’t want to leave here alone. Not when he had the image of Chrissy burned into his brain again.

“Oh…” you yawned.

Eddie smirked. “How about you stop worrying and just take a nap. I’ll be around if you need something.”

He turned around to lead.

“Hey, Eddie.” You stopped him in his tracks and he looked back at you.

“Yeah, angel?”

You opened your mouth to say something then stopped yourself. You settled on, “Thank you.”

Eddie bowed to you and you giggled. “At your service, my lady.”

“I can see why Chrissy liked you.”

Now that stopped him dead in his tracks. He couldn’t meet your eye. “Yeah, I liked her too.”

“I don’t think you did it.” You pushed yourself up in his bed. “If that’s not obvious. I mean, I know you’ve been cleared. But even before that I knew you- I knew you weren’t like that.”

Eddie frowned. “How?”

You shrugged and laid back down. “I paid attention.”

You’d noticed him. Enough that you felt like you could just his character and hold on to that judgement even when all elements pointed to the contrary.

And he just though you were pretty. Unattainable. Perfect. God-fearing.

He left you to your own thoughts and shut the door. He checked the ceiling again. No black goo. No gaping portal. Just yellowing paint.

You spent the next two days in various levels of cramping, watching movies with Eddie on the couch or talking and listening to music. You favorite though was curling up on the couch and watching Eddie practice guitar, which he called his baby.

It was the most fun you’d had in ages.

Come Monday when you were supposed to be in school, you felt better but not well enough to go sit in class for 8 hours. Or face Jason. Maybe that was more like it.

You inched closer to Eddie on the couch as Star Wars played on the tv. “Eddie.” You whispered.

Eddie turned his head, eyes wide and playful. “Angel.”

Shit.

You hadn’t realized how close you had gotten to him. His face was only inches from yours. You heart raced as time seemed to slow down around you. The silly comment you were going to say to him died on your lips as you glanced at his. His eyes dipped down to your lips.

He was going to kiss you. You were sure of it. Your whole body practically vibrated with the need for it.

A fist pounding at the door had you jumping away from him. Eddie cursed.

“Eddie, open up! We know you’re in there! It’s important!” A young boy yelled from outside the door.

“It’s Dustin. I’ll send him away.” Eddie groaned as he stood. He opened the door just a crack but that didn’t stop Dustin Henderson, Mike Wheeler, Will Byers from barging in. Followed closely by Steve, Nancy, and Robin.

“Emergency meeting.” Dustin stated. “There’s been another abduction.”

Abduction?

You stared at the sudden influx of people. Probably about the least likely group of people you’d expect to barge into Eddie’s trailer. You tried to hide under the blanket a little more, hoping no one would notice you. So far, none of them had.

“We don’t know that.” Robin sighed.

Eddie glanced at you and Steve followed his gaze. Steve’s mouth formed an ‘o’ at the sight of you. His eyes comically wide. “Yeah, we definitely don’t know that.”

All the eyes in the room landed on you. You have a weak smile and a wave.

Robin looked between you and Eddie, realization dawning in her features. “Okay… You three. Outside.”

“Wait, what?” Mike’s eyes snapped to her.

“Yeah! Why do we have to wait outside?” Dustin whined. “There’s clearly something going on here.”

“That’s exactly why you need to wait out side.” Steve ushered the three boys to the door. Reluctantly, they went. Nancy took up a spot by the window to keep an eye on them.

Eddie looked just as confused as you were. “Someone wanna tell me what’s happening?”

Seconded, you thought.

Steve looked at you. “Your parents have the whole town looking for you. Everyone started freaking out when you didn’t show up to school. No one knew where you were. They think you got kidnapped or something. I’m ah… guessing that’s not the case.”

He glanced at Eddie who was looking downright pissed. You were just shocked. You glanced between all four of them. “What? No! Of course it isn’t! They’re the ones who kicked me out.” You sighed. “I’ll call them.”

When you stood, you winced at little as a cramp hit you. Steve shared a look with Eddie, Nancy, and Robin you didn’t quite understand. From the look on Robin’s face, you knew she was starting to put pieces of the puzzle together.

Eddie pointed you to the phone and then pushed everyone towards the living room to give you some privacy. You could hear their hushed whispers as you dialed your home phone. You mom picked up after one ring. “Hello? Baby is that you?”

“Why does everyone seem to think I’m missing? I’m fine. You can call off the Calvary.”

“Where are you, sweetie? Tell me where you are and your father will come pick you up.”

“No. I’m not coming back home.”

“Sweetie, I know we said some hurtful things, but you can come home. We want you back home.”

“It didn’t sound like that when you kicked me out.”

“Sweetie, come back home. Your fathers made some arrangements. You can go away and have the baby and come back and no one will be the wiser.” You mother whispered on the other line. You wondered how many people were in your old house right now. You wondered how long your mother had been crying for them.

You laughed, angrily. “It’s too late for that.”

Silence from the other end. Then, “Well, if God wills it. At least the congregation will never have to know.”

Of course.

Of course that was what she was concerned about. Not you, but the congregation. Not the hell that she put you though but of her and your father’s image in the eyes of the church.

“I’m not coming home. Ever.” You were surprised by how calm you were. “I’m fine. And I’m safe. So if you don’t call off the search, I will. And I will tell everyone everything.”

You hung up the phone before she could say more. For a while you just stared at the phone. Then, you felt a light touch on your shoulder. Eddie. “You okay?”

You nodded though you felt the tears coming. Eddie saw the look on your face and pulled you into his arms. Distantly, you heard the door open and shuffling footsteps as the others left to give the two of you some privacy.

“I’m so tired of this.” You whispered as your tears finally fell. Eddie held you closer and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “I guess I should go to school tomorrow. Show everyone I’m not dead.”

“Eh, fuck them.”

You laughed against his chest, breathing in the comforting, warm smell of him. “I just have to survive the next three weeks and then I can… I don’t know.”

“You can come with me.”

You pushed away from Eddie. “You want me to come with you?”

Eddie grinned and nodded. “Fuck, yeah. Of course I do.”

“Where are you going?”

Eddie shrugged. “No idea. Far away from here.”

“Far away from here sounds perfect.” You could imagine it. Driving across the country in Eddie’s van. Nothing but a couple dollars and Eddie’s guitar to your name. You could get a job as a waitress and Eddie could finally make Corroded Coffin take off.

“Eddie…”

His dark brown eyes dipped to your lips. Then he was pulling you close, his lips on your lips. He wound his fingers through your hair and you moaned against him. You back hit the counter and the two of you pulled apart. Just enough to breathe. You wrapped your hands around his forearms, not pulling him away but holding him there with you.

“Fuck, angel.” Eddie grinned against your skin and kissed you again. He made it feel like your first. This was what it should have been like. Not the aggressive, domineering way Jason had kissed you.

You didn’t want to stop. But there was school tomorrow and it was already late. You pulled away reluctantly from Eddie, smiling as he chased your lips. “We should go to bed.”

Eddie wrinkled his nose. “Sounds horrible.”

“Does it? You raised a brow and Eddie’s eyes widened. You took his hand and lead him towards his bedroom.

Eddie paused, stopping you just outside his door. “Angel, Angel, we can’t. You just had a pretty big operation.”

You knew that already. “I know. I’m not ready. But, that doesn’t mean you have to sleep on the couch.”

“Oh.”

You grinned and tugged at his hand. “Come on.”

The two of you climbed into bed and under the covers. Eddie took off his rings and set them on the dresser as you settled in beside him. He shifted, offering you his shoulder and chest to lay on. “Come ’ere.”

You settled into his chest and Eddie held you tight. Maybe it was crazy– okay. It was crazy. It was the craziest thing you’d ever done. And maybe it wouldn’t last. But here, right now, you had him.

Waking up with Eddie curled around you was one of the best feelings in the world. You relished in it even as you got up and got ready. To your surprise, Robin dropped by with a bag of old clothes for you. You still didn’t have any of your books or papers or homework, but at least you weren’t showing up decked out in Eddie’s clothes. That would really get people talking.

Eddie squeezed your hand as you stared at your high school’s front doors with trepidation. “This is going to suck.”

“Nah… it will be great.” Eddie grinned.

You frowned at him. “Not helping.”

You had to go in. You didn’t want to. You wanted to stay curled up beside Eddie on his couch for the rest of your life. You chewed on your lip, nervously.

Eddie seemed just as nervous as you as he tapped an unsteady rhythm on the steeling wheel.

“Are you okay?” You touched his arm and Eddie glanced at you. He looked almost scared and on the verge of losing his breakfast.

“You aren’t going to ignore me, right? I mean do you really want to be seen with the freak of Hawkins?”

You took in the worried look in Eddie’s eyes. There was a part of him that was already convinced you’d say no. But Eddie had shown you more kindness and belonging in three days than anyone else in your friend had in a year. Minus Chrissy. But she was gone now.

He really thought you were going to give that up for some superficial friendships?

You got out of the car without replying. Eddie got out a moment later, walking right past you without a look. “Eddie- Wait-“

You grabbed his hand and pulled him back to you. He tried to pull away but you pulled harder, wrapping your hands in his jacket and pulling him down to your lips. He fought it for a second, then realized what you were saying. He melted into you.

You pulled away grinning. Eddie looked down at you in disbelief. “That’s my answer, Eddie Munson. Come on. We’re going to be late.”

Previous - Next - Masterlist

#eddie stranger things #eddie munson #eddie x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie x you #eddie x sheltered reader #eddie munson x reader smut #hellfire and brimstone

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radianite-bar · 1 year

Text

I wrote a 3-chaptered NSFW story about Brimstone and Sage, 19k words on Ao3 called, “And We Can Reconvene Another Time!”

#valorant #valorant smut #brimstone #sage #valorant sage #valorant brimstone #brimstone valorant #sage valorant #my fics #brimstone/sage #sagestone

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multifandomfanatic02 · 18 days

Text

"One-Sided, One Receiver"

pairing: alastor x fem!reader

synopsis: Alastor has taken you in under his wing after being mistreated by the vees. Vox tries to confronts you about your feelings for Alastor in hopes that you come back to work for him. His plans of course backfire.

warnings: MDNI fuckin tentacle porn, alastor is fully clothed, no pp for you to see sorry, alastor and his dirty mouth, praise kink ig? fingering

word count: 1.7k words

a/n: my first time writing this kinda thing, please spare me. Also thank you to @rubra-wav for the cute divider omg. and my two favorite in character smut authors @hazelfoureyes (my hazel basil) and @jyoongim giving me the courage to do this ✨️🙏

You've worked with Alastor going on years now. He had taken you under his wing after the treatment you received under the control of the Vees. It was well known they weren't the nicest overlords around but they knew how to sell.

You were Vox's little plaything in more ways than one. He had you pegged to be a pretty good spy and information gatherer. Of course, your mission was always to look for signs of the Radio Demon for his whereabouts. Alastor was very meticulous and every clue left for you was purposely placed, and you knew that. And because you knew that, you never bothered to inform Vox of the very little "information." In which came at a cost of your job and nearly, your life. Vox often underestimated Alastor's smarts. Their own egos constantly bumping each other in the head.

The night you lost your job, you were found outside the Vees' tower, horribly bruised and broken. Hands clutching at the brimstone dirt to try and stable yourself in some way, you saw a pair of black boots standing in front of your face, the demon's cane setting down on the ground.

"Well my dear, it looks like you finally received Vox's boot." He chuckled in amusement and offered a hand to you to help you off the ground. "I'm impressed with how you've gone about finding my little clues, not many have managed to connect them back to me."

With your hand still in his, you two disappear into his shadow and find solitude in a different part of Pentagram City, away from the Vees' territory.

"I have a deal for you. Well rather a job." He states conjuring up a needle and glowing green thread along with a small first-aid kit. He talked his way through his prompt while mending and sewing your wounds. You accepted and that was that.

The years you've worked along side him he's been quite kind to you. Despite not trying to be, he was a charmer. Your feelings for him changed over time. You often caught yourself doing things you never thought you would for the Radio Demon. The man you were convinced to hate in your previous employment. You'd bend over backward for him if you could.

The role he gave you was to do exactly what you had done for Vox in the past. There was never need to leave his side for you to gather whatever information he needed so you never looked suspicious. You looked more like an assistant or an apprentice.

No matter what you looked like you were doing, Vox was deeply displeased. How dare you escape his grasp and go kiss Alastor's ass. It was insulting from both you and the Radio Demon.

There was more to your companionship that meets the eye. While Alastor was an oblivious man, Vox saw right through you. It was clear to him you had fallen in love with the radio demon. And with the way Alastor has reacted to confessions in the past, the TV man knew exactly how to ruin your relationship with each other and potentially along with the contract that was signed.

Checkmate.

"What are you doing here, old pal. Don't you think you are on the wrong side of town." Alastor's body was facing away, Vox's presence clear from his heavy breathing. His attempt to stay calm and collected.

"I am here to offer Y/N's job back." He stood up straight, folding his arms behind his back and turning his unfazed gaze to you. "I'm willing to raise your pay by a substantial amount if you come back to me."

"Not a chance, Vox. After the way you and the other Vees treated me? Go to double Hell." You spat at him, your eyes full of disgust and turning your body away from him.

Vox's smile creeped further up the screen, wholeheartedly expecting that to be your answer. The wrong answer. The one to ruin you once again.

"You come back to work for me and I won't tell Alastor your dark little secret. You get to stay in his good graces and I get my favorite little employee." He held his hand out to you. Alastor's silence completely deafening as he zones in on the strange conversation. What could you possibly do to fall out of his good graces, he thought.

Your expression faltering slightly before returning to it's stability. Was it that obvious? Did everyone see your feelings like an open book? He was unfortunately right.. if Alastor knew how you felt he'd probably ditch for another 7 years. Either way the outcome of this would be you trapped in the hands of the Vees once more. "You're confused Vox. I think you should take a break from all that porn."

"Do not pretend to not know what I'm talki-"

"I think I've heard enough, Vox. If you are referring to her romantic feelings towards me, there's no need to inform me. I already know." Alastor finally stepped out from behind you to stand in between the two of you. "The only difference here is that she has not forced those feelings upon me in which I quite respect. She will not be going with you."

Alastor tapped his cane on your back to turn you around and continue your walk. You give one last glance at Vox behind you, his face obviously fuming in embarrassment before disappearing into Alastor's shadow with him and reappearing in front of the Hotel.

You two stood in front of the doors in silence. Not really awkward just a little stunned.

"Sir.. you knew?" Your head was looking down to his shoes, scared to look him in the eyes.

"Dear, do not be embarrassed." He placed his cane under your chin, watching your eyes shift from the ground to his own. "I'm willing to make another deal with you if you allow it. This will be a one time thing. One night of your pleasure and you will give me your soul. Your services will belong to me for the rest of your immortal life."

Not to long after that were you in his radio tower. His shadowy appendages wrapped around your ankles and wrists, your ass resting on the buttons of his desk. You were already in the nude and he still sharply dressed. "Let's get a few things clear, darling. You will not touch me whatsoever, no I will not remove my clothing-" He spoke in the midst of taking his coat off and hanging it up on the hook to the side of the desk. He carefully rolled up the sleeves to his dress shirt before turning his attention to you, continuing his sentence. "and do remember to make noise. I need this to be amusing for me as well."

The appendages snaked up your thighs, softly maneuvering themselves through your folds. Spreading your slick everywhere they could reach. Your shut eyes tightened underneath his delicate touch. Another pair of his tentacles made their way up to your face, pulling at the sides of your mouth, making you open your lips. One slipped inside your wet cavern, lapping up the saliva around your tongue. Moans now starting to slip out as it started to fuck your mouth, spit dripping down the corners of your lips.

"Now that's my good girl." Alastor's cold digits made their way to your clit, rubbing in rhythmic circles, eliciting a well earned gasp from your throat. Not rough enough to jump start an orgasm but enough to be quite pleasurable on it's own. What pretty sounds he thought. Your legs tensed at his praise, his voice. It was deeper and more staticy than normal. Seemed he was enjoying himself more than he'd like to admit.

Removing the tentacle in your mouth, he replaced it with his own mouth. Your heart fluttered at the way he moved his lips against yours. Not exactly how you fantasized your first kiss with the Radio Demon but you'll take it. You groaned into his lips, grinding your hips into his steady going fingers. "Alastor.. please. I need you inside me." Heavy breaths passed between each word that escaped your mouth. This was your part of the deal so he was willing to give you whatever you wanted. Within reason of course.

The extremity wet with your juices slid up and down your cunt, spreading you as much as possible before slipping into you with ease. It wasn't his dick but dear god did it feel good nonetheless. Some boundaries had to be made after all but you were grateful for his generosity no matter what he offered. It's pace started off slow, simply trying to make it's way to your cervix before anything else. His lips still continuing to massage yours, going back and forth between licking your neck and kisses.

He was making every piece of your body vibrate with excitement and pleasure. Alastor's pace speeding up once he finally hit the end of your vagina, nearly making love to your cervix. His fingers began to abuse your now sensitive clit. It didn't take long before that long awaited tightness started to form in your womb. Your breath hitched and various parts of your body twitched, letting him know that you were approaching your end. "Are you going to cum for me, my dear? My precious apprentice."

With one last bite to your shoulder, you came undone on his tentacle and fingers. Continuing to rub you through your high. Your head rested against his shoulder allowing you to control your breaths back to normal. All his dark restraints dissipated, letting you free.

Alastor licked his fingers clean and rolled his sleeves back down, grabbing the coat he hung up and placing it back onto his shoulders. "Now I do believe you need a bath. Feel free to use the one in my room. Be back down stairs in an hour, we've got business to attend to later."

And with that, you now belonged to him in heart and soul.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin #the radio demon #alastor hazbin #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel fandom #hazbinhotel #alastor imagine #alastor #alastor smut #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel smut #alastor x reader #alastor fanfiction

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twst-darling · 7 months

Text

˗ˏˋSomewhere in the Sands of Timeˎˊ˗

Pairing: (General) Lilia Vanrouge x Fem!Reader [or Fem!OC]

Summary: The spell to send you home backfires, and you land the past where you encounter one General Vanrouge.

CW: Smut [porn with very little plot, vaginal fingering, blow jobs/skull fucking, facials, degradation, snowballing, hate fucking?, spit, rough sex, use of words like whore, slight dub-con (but the reader is into it)], Language, Violence [threats of violence, threats of murder], 1st Person Point of View, Fem!Reader, AFAB!Reader, Tall!Lilia

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: I initially wrote this with my OC in mind. However, it is vague enough that it can be read as a reader insert. Song title is taken from Kryptonite by 3 Doors Down

Having a sword held against my throat wasn’t on my bingo card for ‘Strange Happenings in Twisted Wonderland.’ Then again, neither was a very tall, very angry Lilia Vanrouge. His hair cascaded down his back like an inky black waterfall. Rage simmered beneath his vermilion irises—a bizarre sight, given how friendly they usually were—and I knew without a shadow of a doubt that he would behead me, given the opportunity.

This Lilia is not my Lilia. Not yet, anyway.

This Lilia has fire in his blood and brimstone for bones. I can feel his heat radiating through the tough leather armor that covers his body. He bares his fangs, crimson eyes sharp and unyielding. Long gone is the cute upperclassman I’d come to know.

The whole thing is rather fuzzy. One second, I was walking through a portal that was supposed to take me home. The next? I’m sprawled on the ground with a gleaming blade made of gemstones and magic thrust against my jugular.

I can barely breathe with how Lilia’s knees dig into my ribs. It’s intentional. And though I know I shouldn’t waste my breath, I can’t help but whimper. My hands lay unbound by my head, but I dare not move them. Not even an inch.

“Your boldness is admirable, yet foolish, mortal scum. Sneaking into fae territory shall wreak nothing but the most exquisite suffering.”

“I-I didn't—”

Lilia presses forward, practically crushing my lungs. “I didn’t say you could speak.”

The edge of his sword—cleaver?—cuts into my neck, and I yelp. “Lilia, please don’t do this, we’re friends!”

“Lies!” he hisses. “You cannot sway my mind, mortal, with your feeble magic. I hold no familiarity for you, nor shall I ever.” His lip curls, nose wrinkling as if smelling something foul. “I will take great pleasure in crushing the bones in your body until they are dust to be scattered by the wind. It seems only fitting for a human spy who has made it so far behind our barricade.”

Oh, Sevens, he was serious.

“Wait, wait, wait, please—!”

“Begging won’t save your life, worm.”

“Let me explain—”

“You tiresome, incompetent creature, I demand you cease this incessant—”

“—I’m from the future!”

It shouldn’t have worked, but my frantic cry made him hesitate. Maybe it was my clothes—the uniform skirt I had sewn looked out of place compared to Lilia’s armor—or my hair. Or maybe, just maybe, Lilia sensed something was off about my arrival the whole time.

My knowledge of Lilia's time as General in Meleanor's army was limited, a vague impression left from a magic induced coma. But it was nearly impossible to deny the facts as they were shoved right in my face. (Err, against my neck?)

Somehow, Crowley's spell had backfired and not taken me back home to my dimension, but into the past.

Lilia braced his arm next to my head, his long hair forming a curtain around our faces. His nose is inches from mine, but I feel no comfort in the proximity. “Talk. Before I grow tired and find something else to occupy that mouth.”

Lilia’s thick cock rams down my throat mercilessly. I grip his thighs, allowing the fae to use my mouth as he pleases. From above, he grunted, baring his sharp teeth like a predator snarling. Globs of spit and drool dribbled past my lips and down my chin, splashing to the dirt below. The thick leather straps of his armor gave away to my nails as I dug them deep, allowing Lilia to use me as he pleased. My throat burned from the harsh, stuttering movements of his hips. He fucked my face so hard it was murderous as if he were trying to make up for not beheading me before.

Yet another stamp on that infernal bingo card—but I can’t say I hate this one.

I would have been incredibly embarrassed at my gagging noises if the burning between my legs had not taken precedence. My eyes roll back, briefly catching a glimpse of the General’s ecstasy-clouded expression. His pink lips parted in a silent gasp, gaze raised to the heavens.

Abruptly, Lilia pulls out and begins fisting his cock. His movements are furious as he hunches over. “I’m going to smear that filthy human expression with my seed—paint you white, since I can't paint you red. Maybe I'll leave you like that, so your brethren can see your betrayal written across that pretty little face. Mmm, just like this.”

I close my eyes just in time for thick, hot spurts of Lilia’s cum sprayed over my face. My knees trembled, and I stifled a moan between my teeth and tongue.

Lilia wasn’t done.

He pushes me, and I fall into the mossy underbrush. Lilia takes my knees and peels them apart, staring at the feeble scrap of cloth, preserving what little dignity I have left. I’m trembling again, fixated on the sheer size of Lilia’s hand as it practically swallows my thigh in his massive grip.

“How pathetic,” he coos. Lilia drags one finger down my thigh, ghosting the hemline of my panties. “You’re drenched.” He touches the mound of my pelvis before hooking his index finger around the gusset and prying it aside. “Never have I seen a human so eager. The rest of your race would be dumbfounded to know their kinsmen loved choking on faerie cock.”

I bite my lip, a blush burning my cheeks. The cold forest air kissed my exposed skin, but I felt none of it. Only the intense searing sensation of General Vanrouge’s stare, his slitted pupils sharp like knives. His digits danced across my lips, collecting slick, teasing my poor throbbing core.

“Ah, but you said we would be friends in this future. Pupils.” Lilia snickers, brushing against my clit. “Perhaps it’s not so strange after all. Perhaps you let me have my way with you as much as I’d like—like the sweet, foolish girl you are.”

Lilia crawled up my body, reminiscent of the one he’d had me at not so long ago. Only, this time, I didn’t need a sword to my neck to keep me in place. Lilia sunk two fingers knuckle-deep inside my pussy, abating that hollow feeling inside.

“General,” I moan.

He chuckles again and licks a broad stripe across my cheek. He surges forward, curling his fingers at the same instant our lips meet. My mouth opens, but Lilia swallows the cry. He snaked his tongue into my mouth, pushing a copious amount of his cum for me to taste. It passes between us until I swallow it, painfully aware of every second it seeps down my insides. He pulls away too soon, but not before spitting on me for good measure. It lands in my mouth, still agape and from panting.

“Such a cute, little faerie whore. It’s almost endearing.” Lilia spreads the fingers he’s buried inside my cunt, and it’s magnificent. He’s so deep, his slender digits pressing into spots I could never dream of touching. “I ought to fuck you open, now. That’s what you want, isn’t it, pretty one? I can only imagine how this hot little hole of yours will squeeze me.” Lilia slips his fingers from my cunt, only to deliver a sharp smack to my clit. “If there’s one thing that comes from your hellish future, I’m glad to know I shall have a tight cunt to warm me, even if it is a human’s.”

I could correct him. I probably should. But the instant his swollen cockhead breaches my pussy, all coherent thought dissipates into a lusty puff of smoke.

I'll never be able to look Lilia in the eye again if I ever get back.

#twisted wonderland #twst smut #twisted wonderland x reader #lilia vanrouge x reader #lilia vanrouge smut #lilia vanrouge #darling writes #twst x reader

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inuhalfdemon · 1 month

Text

The Chain Game (2/3)

[If anyone knows who I can credit for the above Fanart; PLEASE let me know! This was something sent to me and I haven't been able to track down the artist myself yet...]

Part 2

RadioApple SMUT

Part 1: Here

Part 3: Here

Brainrot into one-shot fanfiction

Rating = 18+

Word Count = 1,726 Words

Ya'll can thank @lily-lilzy-lil for it. She fed me with her kind enthusiasm. Enough so, even that I might already have a part 3 in mind...

“Are we ready for another round?” Lucifer’s voice came from the surrounding darkness.

Alastor hung…kneeling. He was bound tightly by the chains winding across his chest; wrists secured within the links wrapping above his head. The large brimstone shackle was heavy on his neck; the chain to its ring hanging loose and dragging beside him.

“Heh…is that one of the questions?” Alastor smirked, his voice a crackling radio.

A chain slithered from the blackest of shadows; twisting and hissing as it found its way home; curling itself up Alastor’s naked torso and tightening painfully. He hissed as the links burned more brands across his bare, scarred skin.

“Yes.” Lucifer told him, stepping out from concealing shadows. “It was.” He was shirtless – bare-chested – just as Alastor was; his dress pants and shoes the only remnants to the clothing he had been wearing.

Alastor starred at the King’s exposed upper body. The radio demon’s green eyes flared wide – hungry and gleaming – drool seeping from sharpened teeth. The base to each of his antlers thickened; the smooth bone becoming heavy and long as points branched higher and higher above his head.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” Lucifer asked him. “Still rutting I see…”

The demon growled; a low sound intermingling with the sharp sounds of a radio static.

“And, still losing.” Lucifer sighed, another chain slithering past him to lift and strike out just like a snake; catching and winding itself through the ring to the shackle just at the base of Alastor’s throat. The chain jerked and Alastor’s neck was pulled sharply forward.

“You look like you have sobered up, though.” Lucifer told him; approaching carefully. “Tell me, Alastor…now that my ichor has left your system; are you thirsty for more?”

Lucifer flicked clawed fingers; bringing sharp points against his own bare skin, just at the soft bunch of flesh that stretched across one shoulder. Slicing there, gold blood seeped and spilled from the cut; threading down his chest and abdomen.

Alastor snarled in answer; his eyes flaring brighter, antlers growing longer, his hair standing up – sharp and bristled; overwhelmed by his overpowering need.

“Yes…” The radio to his voice nearly screeching. “…your majesty…”

“Well, now.” Lucifer stepped closer. “Honesty and manners this time. A reward for you…I think.”

A chain dropped from Alastor, winding its way back into the dark as the other chains still supporting him shifted and moved. Alastor’s hands were released but the chains encircling his chest and neck were dragging him backward so that when they found their placements; the radio demon was stretched fully on his back; pinned to the ground. He tried to move; trying even to just to be able to prop himself up in order to see what the King was doing; but the chain tightly secured to his shackle held fast.

Alastor’s ears worked nervously. He was starring up into complete darkness; his body tense with the knowledge that Lucifer meant for him to not know what was coming.

When he felt Lucifer’s hands on his legs - moving them so that they were spread easily wide apart - and the King moved between them, Alastor growled. The sound was low and warning; promising a deadly reciprocation to whatever the fallen angel intended; given the chance…

He felt the King moving, climbing over him so that he leaned across and over Alastor’s chest; his hands supporting his weight from either side of Alastor’s head. Lucifer’s wide golden eyes matched Alastor’s flaring bright green ones; a wicked smile spread across the King’s face as he leaned himself closer to Alastor’s face. Baring his sharp teeth and flattening his ears, Alastor fought to lift his head; meaning to bite. The chain restraining his neck tightened and any give that Alastor had found in it before was now lost.

Laughing, Lucifer smiled down at the sinner demon lying just beneath him.

“I promised you your reward. I keep my promises, Alastor.” Lucifer told him, leaning closer so that they were face-to-face; Lucifer only just out of reach from Alastor’s sharp and pointed teeth. Lucifer tilted his head; fully exposing his still-bleeding wound he had opened across his shoulder.

Alastor’s growling choked in his throat; seeing the golden strands tracing down the King’s chest; sparce warm drops falling onto Alastor’s bare skin. The growling had turned into a brief but desperate whine for relief; Alastor’s clawed hands digging into the ground beside him; finding no purchase – claws cutting grooves into the dark floor.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to use that rather useful tongue of yours.” Lucifer was telling him; leaning back just enough to give Alastor the best angle for full access.

Without a moment for hesitation, Alastor’s tongue lashed from between his bared teeth – long and dripping - it lapped at the streams of golden blood. A groan emitted from Alastor; barbs from his tongue pressing roughly against the fallen angel’s skin as he hungrily scraped for every…last…drop.

Alastor’s eyes started glazing over and Lucifer chuckled.

“You’re not a very fast learner…are you.” Lucifer said darkly. It wasn’t a question. Alastor’s tension was gone. Drunk with the angel’s blood; he retreated his tongue – eyes closing as he let his head fall back.

Leaving him to his buzz; Lucifer crawled back down to kneel between Alastor’s long legs. He began working at the radio demon’s dress pants; reaching just behind the seam at the crotch, finding the bulge within and sliding Alastor’s seeping and engorged cock out.

Alastor shuddered; pleasurably. Gasping at the contact.

“You know,” Lucifer said, holding the large penis in his hand. “I, too, can do some pretty…interesting things with my tongue.” His eyes flared; sharply golden. “Shall I…demonstrate?” He asked in a purr.

“Yes.” Alastor was groaning again. “Your Majesty.”

“That’s my deer…” Lucifer told him.

Using his own tongue now, he let it slither from between his teeth. Just as a snake’s, it stretched and flicked itself so that it tortuously skimmed the underside of Alastor’s cock – touching all along the base and shaft underneath then going to flick at the soft skin along his balls.

Alastor was panting. A redness was spreading across his chest and face; a slick sheen of sweat coating his skin.

Lucifer continued to teasingly flick his tongue all along Alastor’s root; occasionally bringing it around to circle the shaft. The muscle there was tightening quickly.

Pausing briefly, Lucifer adjusted his hold on Alastor’s throbbing penis. “Careful, you don’t want to miss out on the best part.” Snaking his tongue out; Lucifer carefully elongated the shape so that the forks lengthened and thinned. Expertly, he directed the tips to the slit at the head of the slick cock; sliding them inside.

Alastor bucked and Lucifer pressed clawed hands into each hip; holding him steady and he worked his tongue so that it slid in further.

“Ah….” Alastor was lost. The stimulation was too incredible. Timing it perfectly, Lucifer snaked his forked-tongue deeper before slowly retreating it back out. Alastor’s body shook. Removing his tongue entirely; Lucifer took Alastor’s cock fully and quickly into his mouth; biting down sharply just as the organ tightened and sprayed cum.

Softly coiling his tongue all along the twitching cock; Lucifer sucked and swallowed before dropping it limp from his mouth.

Lucifer stood up from where he had been kneeling; there, between the radio demon’s legs.

Alastor laid, still panting and gasping. The deep red color his skin had turned was contrasting the brands of chain links in an interesting way. His clawed hands were shaking and he was drenched in sweat now. His body twitched; still feeling the waves of ecstasy crashing over it.

Lucifer laughed; stepping away to loosen his own dress pants now. He paused; then as if deciding something he slipped out of the remaining clothes entirely.

“You certainly know how to take your…licks.” Lucifer said. “If you actually are in the middle of a rut though…it’s you that could do with some mounting. I suppose you’re in enough of a manageable state that I could allow it.”

Lucifer stepped back to where he had left Alastor; still tightly restrained to the floor.

“What say you?” Lucifer asked him; the chains around Alastor coming loose now but never fully leaving him.

Alastor moved slowly. He was dazed; both from the remnants of ichor and the orgasm. Turning, he went to stand up; then thinking better of it he knelt back to the floor; eyes on the King.

“Your majesty…” Alastor knelt; looking up – compliant.

“Good boy.” Turning away from him – fully naked - Lucifer waved a hand and every chain holding Alastor dropped and went away into the dark; every chain save for the one holding to Alastor’s heavy brimstone collar.

Alastor smiled; standing and going to the King; dragging his chain with him.

Stopping to stand just behind Lucifer, Alastor paused; eyes flaring green, his antlers curling and twisting ever upwards.

“You may…regret this.” He said before he sunk the claws of his left hand into the flesh of Lucifer’s left hip; pulling the angel into him and spilling more blood. His right arm wrapped around the King, his clawed fingers finding his face and mouth; shoving them inside. Snarling; he bit deep into the wound at Lucifer’s shoulder; swallowing hard as golden liquid poured out.

“Ahhhhhh…” Lucifer sunk to his knees and Alastor followed him down. His teeth still buried in the fallen angel’s shoulder; he forced the King down on all fours. Lucifer choked on his fingers; golden blood pooling on the ground from his wounds.

Gasping, Alastor released Lucifer’s shoulder. His vision blurred and darkened; the influence of angelic blood mixing with the influence of his rut. He was already hard again; his erection pressing fully into Lucifer’s bare back.

“Now…my King.” Alastor was purring darkly; sliding his fingers from Lucifer’s mouth. “I will gift to you the most fitting of thrones…”

Lucifer gagged; blood and spit running down his chin.

“Do your worst…my deer.”

--‐‐--‐‐-‐--‐----‐---‐----------‐--‐----------------------------------------------------

Alastor jerked awake; déjà vu catching him even in his ‘half-asleep’ state.

“Oh, what the Hell-” Followed by a sleepy yawn. “What fucking time is it?”

The room was pitch black; then a bedside light came on.

“Uh...” Alastor said, shifting awkwardly in the bed.

“AGAIN!?” Lucifer exclaimed loudly.

“Well…” Alastor replied.

“If this keeps happening, you and you’re one-eyed monster are sleeping somewhere else!”

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

Part 3

Brainrot credit:

@De Bergerac

The Masochism Tango

255 notes · View notes

kneelingshadowsalome · 1 year

Text

Anhedonia 2/2

Word count: 5,5 k (part 1) and 4,4 k (part 2)

Pairing: Ghost x F!Reader Tags: SMUT 🔞🔞🔞 Literally just unadulterated, deranged filth, plot is there for decoration. Angst. Hurt/Comfort. Mutual pining, sexual tension (duh), blood & injury, p in v sex, oral sex (m receiving), mutual masturbation, cum all over the place, light humiliation, dirty talk, some praise, swearing, mask stays on, fluffy/reconciliatory ending. Summary: Reader is a Task Force 141 operator and a terrible brat (and suffers the consequences of it later). Enemies to lovers/toxic relationship that takes a healthy turn in the end. Read PART 1 here

"Wha' a good girl you are now…"

His first words hit you like a moan-inducing massage, but you stay silent and steady in your resolve.

"Good soldier, too. We just need to get you to follow orders so that you don't get hurt," he speaks gently.

There it is, finally – a good girl and a good soldier. You have to mentally bind your hands behind your back and place an imaginary gag in your mouth not to chirp and bounce up from joy. It's pathetic, but it's also harrowing: Ghost never meant to fuck with your head; he only wanted to keep you safe. But then he causes another riot in your brain with the next thing he says.

"Such a beautiful sight… You'd make a fine pet."

- - - - - - - - -

You go to offer your apology the next day after sleeping on it.

You feel like you're the most horrible person in the world. And yet, when you knock on his door and call yourself in when only a silence answers, the scalding gaze that locks into you like the sights of a gun remind you why you said what you said.

It's like the man has struck a knife in you, and twists it just to see you squirm. And you do: it's a telltale sign that you've been claimed when you kneel in the middle of his office while he sits behind the same desk he rutted you on less than 20 hours ago.

He says nothing. You wait, equally as quiet, like you're waiting for a pardon from Caesar.

The atmosphere is mellow: his shutters are closed but one window is creaked open, allowing birdsong and summer wind on trees to pass through to his otherwise stale office. It stirs the softest, small smile on your lips as you look at him, adamant and all locked up.

Your knees hurt, but he eventually breaks first: something you hadn't even calculated might happen. The brimstone of his eyes steal a breather to the side, then come back to you with a tinge of confusion in them.

Then he lifts his chin, lifts a hand, a command for you to approach.

Your smile only softens as you go around his desk, and he pushes the chair away with one foot, turns to meet you as you fall on your knees again, then on all fours before starting a slow crawl to him.

His eyes go wide, his head draws back as if you approaching him like a housecat is the most threatening situation he has ever been in.

You have planned this through, and he has the instincts, the sixth sense of a seasoned hunter as he opens his legs wide to make space for you.

He certainly doesn't stop you as you free his erection from the sturdy cargo pants and offer your apology by taking him in your mouth.

He knows what's coming but still gasps and grabs the arms of his chair with white knuckles. You're on your knees, seemingly domesticated, but he's the one begging for mercy before you have even begun. He's heavy in your mouth, but you welcome the weight with greed and a hot tongue.

His thighs travel wide and far, just like yours did last night. The first moan is divine. He eases into the chair while the muscles on his stomach and thighs twitch and shudder.

A pair of boots echo in the hallway behind the door, the sound soon disappearing into the distance. Anyone could walk in at any given moment, and the notion makes your head feel dizzy.

He doesn't say anything, doesn't disclose in any way that he is considering forgiveness.

But eventually, he starts to melt upon your tongue like a snow-covered mountain ridge basking in the sun. Something in the way with which you work him slowly and with gusto makes him send a hand on your head. It strokes your hair softly.

"Wha' a good girl you are now…"

His first words hit you like a moan-inducing massage, but you stay silent and steady in your resolve.

"Good soldier, too. We just need to get you to follow orders so that you don't get hurt," he speaks gently.

"Such a beautiful sight… You'd make a fine pet."

You give him some teeth for that. Just the lightest scrape as you arrive near the base of his cock. He hisses, then laughs.

"Careful, love."

It's the first time ever you've heard him properly laugh. The sound implements itself into your core, your spine, your DNA. It's genuine and hearty, and the summer brushes past the open window to your face in a reviving breeze. Combined with the dark musk of his laughter, it makes your heart flip, and a small, tickling giggle bubbles inside you too. It arrives muted against his cock, but it's a magnificent moment – you two laughing together, even if for a second, even if yours is just a huff of an exhale against his pelvis.

"You don't like the idea?" He asks you a question as if you didn't have your mouth full of him.

His offer is alluring – of course you'd like him to take you as his pet. You could get good food and caresses, get to curl next to him when he goes to sleep. He could show you off like a domesticated animal if he wanted to. He could parade you down the street on a leash, and you would only purr as you go.

But while the proposition is enticing, you leave him with no answer, knowing it will only intrigue him if you don't say yes.

"I would be good to you," he starts to slip, and you up the pace a little. Open your jaw as far as it can go to accommodate him as much as you can, the soft hood of his cock meeting the back of your throat.

"So good– nh..." You can almost hear how his head rolls back, and you catch yourself worrying if he might hurt his neck because the chair has no headrest.

You do it again, and again, almost choking while trying to show him how good you are, how well you can take him and what your tongue can do too. You nearly stumble while you're at it, so lost in him, and you have to reach for support to prevent yourself from falling.

Your hand finds his leg, clutches the khaki that hugs a broad thigh. You flinch when a hard, heavy palm descends on top of yours. It brushes a thumb over the back of your hand as his sighs travel through the stagnant air, rampant and unchallenged through the fabric of his mask.

"Be my pet, sweetheart," he prays, growing weaker by the second. It's like a charm that transforms you into a priestess, a Babalon whore, a scarlet woman who adores men before sending them off to war.

His hips buck, he starts to clutch your hand like you're a rope that's going to save him from drowning. The other hand is more gentle in grip, but mercenary in demand as he grabs a fistful of hair to guide you along his length. Your gag reflex almost shoots him out of your mouth, but he is relentless.

He knows you can take it.

"That's it–that's it, luv," he rasps, and every other noise gets shut out of your brain as you go deaf to the sonic world. You can feel his thighs bunch and tremble around your head, the earthquake under your fingers pressed against hard, lifeless textile when they should be scraping his skin instead. He opens like a woman, massive legs spread hungry and wide as he shoots a load in your mouth. Ample, abundant, even if he just filled you to the brim not too long ago.

You drink him dutifully, greedy for the praise of a job well done, but such a thing never comes. He just breathes heavy over you, sounding happy, the happiest man on earth. You lick him clean, although there's really nothing to clean except your own saliva. The cock glistens, jolts happily one last time after you're done.

"I can make you scream on that desk," he offers while his hands release their death grip on you. Your hair gets tucked behind your ear, he even squeezes your hand briefly like you're his most trusted companion. His cock is flaccid, so you assume he's offering his fingers, perhaps even his mouth to you.

You'd like nothing more than to know if he has a stubble under that balaclava. To see if he would kneel on the floor too to shove his face between your legs while you're splayed over that desk. If he would forget about the door too, making it possible for anyone to catch him with his nose up your cunt. For Soap or Gaz or even Price to see how the broody commanding officer is just a thirsty hound dog on a bowl.

But then again, you just worked yourself up to a shattering orgasm. Two times, actually – deliberately, before you came here. The taste of his cum on your tongue will have to suffice; hell, it's almost better than him finally fucking or licking you into a deranged bliss.

You sense another opening, can't just help yourself…

"Thank you, sir. But that won't be necessary."

- - - - - - - - -

You begin to fear that you're the narcissist here. The way you make him twist and turn like a corkscrew, the way it makes you feel to see how he spirals deeper into madness. Even your eyes are too much for Ghost, who avoids your stare on missions but hunts you down at the base.

"What does it take?"

He ruts you whenever and wherever he can, in the toilets if need be, too busy to haul you into his room after a mission. You just so happened to pass him by, and it was the nearest space with a lock on the door.

"What the fuck does it take?"

The static hum of the bright, unyielding light and the smell of chlorite oozing out of tile seams is everything but a romantic setting as he drives into you from behind and watches you through the mirror on top of a small sink – watches how you give him nothing.

You're trying to take support from the white porcelain even though he's holding you firm against his chest with that inked arm wrapped around your middle. You want to spread your legs for him but can't, since he barely had time to rip your pants down before getting himself out as well to fuck you, so you settle for admiring how vulnerable he looks while he tries his all to please you.

"Do I have to take the mask off? That it?" He's far from a calm and collected lieutenant as he sweats black paint and despair. "Ya want my mouth? Just say it. Promise I'll make you cry."

You laugh at him through the mirror. It's an involuntary, spontaneous action, and you can't really help it. The man is absolutely adorable… And here you have been, fearing him for weeks without realizing he's just another lonely soul.

He doesn't know your strategy. He doesn't know that it's just you and your hand that are his worst enemy.

"What're ya laughin' at?"

You bite your lip, allow him to see mischief and a quivering smile, wet, adoring eyes paired with simple silence. He could force and command and bully you, but he doesn't do it.

Who's the pet now?

"Obviously, you like my cock," he grunts. "Always wet 'n' ready to go, like a fuckin'–"

It ends in a huff before a potential slur comes out.

Truly a gentleman…

"You let everyone 'ere have a go at you?"

He ticks like a time bomb inside you.

"I'm the last to get to fuck you? Huh? I get the fuckin' scraps, is that it?"

He doesn't need slurs to tear you down, but on the other hand, Ghost only reveals more of himself with the insults and assumptions he hurls at you.

He's desperate, crying for it, longing to be the one who makes you cry and scream and purr. Be your one and only.

"No," you hum. "I'm all yours, Lt."

He blinks a few times, exhausted lids fall to cover most of his eyes, and the stare tells you he has entered a dreamworld.

"I'm–," he groans with a broken voice. "I'm… Fuck–"

You shiver with ecstasy – his orgasm is a better reward than anything else he could ever give you. He collapses again, even more humiliated than the day before, or the day before that. He doesn't seem to care anymore. His hips press you against the cold sink, and you fear the porcelain is going to break under your combined weight. He doesn't slip out. Instead, Ghost tucks his mask on top of his nose to catch breath.

He has a shadow of a stubble, a stern jaw, and the notion makes your walls pulse. Thin lips part to gasp for air, his blazing chest heaves behind your back, threatens to topple you all over the sink and against the mirror already misty from your mingled heat.

And the mask was lifted for a whole other reason than to catch some precious air.

He presses his lips against your bare neck, breathes you in with mouth slightly open. Pants, like a tormented beast.

"You almost got killed," he whispers on your skin. Your heart leaps, and he still doesn't slip out…

"Took that blast and those bullets f' me."

Your heart flutters; it competes in rapidness with the blinks of your lashes. He's gentleman enough not to raise his head as you swallow some panic.

"Why did you do that?"

You can't tell him it wasn't even that heroic. That the ultimate reason was just to get his attention. To get him to proudly acknowledge what a good, talented little soldier you are. His girl.

The thick, softening heat inside you is too much. It shouldn't be this close, he shouldn't be this close. Tears are not allowed; they would be the end of you. The end of the fucking world. Your doom.

Claustrophobia makes it a shaky business to tiptoe him out of you, to slither and struggle out of his embrace and yank your pants up, fight your way through the cramped space and out of the door.

- - - - - - - - -

He suspects something.

And of course he does: the man is not a clandestine operations expert for nothing.

You usually do this in the morning, knowing you won't get another chance before he steals a moment with you. But this morning, you slept in and know that you're in the biggest danger ever. If he catches you before you're satisfied and immune, you're dead.

Everything's been fucked up ever since you met him. He's like a sickness, and you've fallen ill. You're practically bedridden because of him.

You have to use a toy because your hand is not enough anymore, and you fear that one of these days you will climax while he's inside you.

The funny thing is, you forgot to lock the door.

Maybe it's a subconscious wish – to end this sickness and receive some healing.

And the perfect healer walks in like he owns the place. Owns you.

Your heart shoots up your throat at the sound of a door opening to your most sacred space while you're most relaxed, spread naked on the bed, nipples perked up and pointing to the sky.

You forgot to lock the door…

The chant arises right before he emerges like a dark mountain after opening that weak, thin piece of plywood that separates you from civility and prudence.

You forgot to lock the door you forgot to lock the door–

He freezes the exact moment his eyes hit on you. He's a northern slope that never catches sunlight while you're at your weakest, most vulnerable, leaking around a toy made out of plastic, trembling naked and full of goosebumps from the sudden cold he emits.

"You fuckin' little…"

His chest rises and falls, then he slams the door shut, locks it without ever taking his eyes off you.

He understands the mystery to the full. It unravels before him clear-cut like the steps of a mission he knows by heart before even entering the field. You can't move, can't speak, but you clench around the lifeless substitute of him, far smaller and a thousand times more tame than what he has on offer for you. The throb is simply a reaction to how he looks at you while he realizes the entirety of the childish trick you've managed to pull, a game – some stupid little antics of a stubborn, lovesick girl and nothing more.

"Alright then. Let's hear it."

"Mhm-"

He takes a step, chest puffed up and shoulders wide, eyes burning under the chalked white skull.

"Go on then. Get on wit' it."

You obey like never before. He watches how you push the lavender-colored toy fully inside, up to the hilt, and let out a shy, sad whimper. The first of many cries to come.

Ten soldiers in one man approach your bed, stand tall all around you as you gaze up at him like he's a god. He's panting by the time he gets himself out of his jeans. His eyes scourge you as he takes his cock in hand and starts to pump in sync with you.

He makes more noise than you do at first. You make him falter by changing the speed from slow and languid to shallow and quick. He tries to keep up with you like it's a race, eyes darting from your quivering mouth and wet stare to your soaked pussy.

You sigh and moan, fuck yourself sloppy, dirty, and he looks like he's about to lose his mind and burst.

"Good girl," he says with a charred voice, a soft rasp that hits you with a delicious heat. "Such a good fuckin' girl."

You swallow tears and love, give him moans and sighs, even a high-pitched mewl or two.

Somewhere along the way, you notice you're following his cue and rhythm instead of your own, and the way the angry bulge of his tip disappears into and reappears from his fist dries your mouth right up, makes your eyelids heavy. You're breathless and incoherent, far too close to the mountaintop — already were before the actual mountain even walked through that door.

You have to slow down to brace yourself for the pleasure that swells.

"Oh– oh my god…"

Your sigh is a final admission: how he is a literal god to you. His hand claps against his balls as he pleasures himself, angry as fuck and as relieved as anyone could be when they find out that their heartthrob is just a delightful little minx instead of a cruel, heartless woman.

Everything shakes and quakes and shifts, your insides shudder, your walls grip lavender when they want to grip a man. The skull tilts, the man who compels you is like an avatar of death, but his eyes are hazel longing.

The scream is celestial, wreathed in needy pain, and his shoulders sigh and shake as he watches you come for him.

"Yeah… That's it, fuck that's sweet." He doesn't slow down, quite the opposite: he beats his flesh like a maniac as you slowly but surely come down, squirm on the bed, still clutching the toy as your pussy throbs around it. If it was his cock, you fear the grip would never release him.

"Here comes," he gives an announcement, weak and breathless, rough and mean. Ropes of cum hit your breasts, neck and face, and his eyes are those of a fallen angel. Your chest rises and falls in shock and adoration as he works himself to the last of it, drips of heat dropping on the sheets, the last spurts not powerful enough to reach you from where he is standing.

When he's done, he raises his hand, like the strings of hot lust are some sort of an art piece you're supposed to gawk at.

"There ya go luv," he wipes his hand clean with you, on you. The sticky semen coats you from face to navel, and you half expect him to smear it all over you.

But he doesn't.

He forces the heavy, teary cock back inside the confine of his pants like he's mad at himself and not you.

Then he drops down like a shadow, making you quail again – one hand sinks with a fist on the pillow next to your head, the other sweeps all gentle across your belly and down over your mound. He takes hold of your hand, uses it to ease the toy slowly out while leaning over you, keeping you as a prisoner with his hawklike stare. He pulls more than just the small, harmless toy out of you: a moan or two, a final confession, but he's not pleased. You two are far from even, and he knows it, and he's fucking done. You can see it in his eyes that he's ready to quit.

He leaves you empty and barren, with just a toy to keep you company, heads for the door like a storm cloud.

"Simon…"

He walks away, much slower, but still. Leaves a memory of your shared hate and love on the doorknob as he turns it, as you start to panic.

"Don't leave," you wheeze.

Don't leave me.

Tears prick and burn your eyes as the room turns into a dismal, empty space at the very thought of living without him from this day forward.

"Please."

He opens the door a crack. Probably to let the ghosts out, because after opening it and hearing your heart-wrenching, helpless sob, he closes it.

By the time he turns and walks back to the bed, you're crying like a baby. Finally crying for him, utterly exposed. It's not the way either of you had meant for things to go, it's not the sobbing and wailing he wants.

Still, you expect him to feast on your tears as well, watch with glee how you curl into a fetal position while covered in his cum. You don't want to see it, so you close your eyes before he rapes you with his stare.

"Sweetheart."

But his voice shatters a heart. So tender that it washes over you in waves as you repeat it inside your head like a lullaby.

"Sweetest…" he trails off into somewhere, some obsidian space that stretches out before you, between you, until you cross that space with no effort at all. Meet him in the middle.

"Yes, love..?" Your own shaky voice is a mirror of his compassion as you pledge yourself to him. A warm hand brushes your cheek not seconds after, dries a tear away, adds to the heat that pangs on your face.

You open your eyes to dare a peek up. He has the same wet look in his eyes as he did when he found you in the rubble, bleeding for him.

"You did well today," he says, voice laced with love. You don't know if he means you did well at work or on this bed just now. What makes the praise scary is that it's authentic, the way he adores you with both word and touch. It breaks you into smaller pieces still, and your voice comes out as a needy whimper.

"Really?"

"Yeah."

You hope he would take you in his arms, just the way he did weeks ago. You still remember how it felt to succumb to his warmth and the soft tang of gun oil and smoke that always surrounds him. Now you're only shrouded by the scent of tears and salt.

"Must be due to a good leader," you whisper.

He cocks his head, the hand halts, hovers over you, a last suspicion.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Your hands are crossed over your chest, palms on opposite shoulders, shielding you from him. But you open them as he lays down and settles beside you, takes you in his arms, and presses your head to rest on his heart, underneath his chin. The massive palm covers half of your head, but the predatorial weight is gone. He only feels like home.

"Look at you, ya silly little thing… Always gettin' yourself into trouble." He brushes your beef off with a few words and an imply that you're just a blameless, stubborn little thing who he can't be mad at even if he wanted to. And it feels like the sickness finally starts to pass, that it was just an odd inflammation, a passing fever that made you so delirious. You anchor in, slither an arm under his to take support of the bedrock of his back.

He caresses you, makes you sob in his shirt from the sudden overdose of gentleness. His cum dries somewhere between your skin and his clothes as he swallows, then asks you about the mission that went wrong.

"Why did you do it?"

He's not an idiot. Surely he knows why by now. He only wants to hear it because he's stubborn like you, but also in desperate need of love and affection.

"I think you know why." You're exhausted, only able to breathe through your mouth, but the bitterness from your tone is gone. Lost, somewhere in his shirt that smells of ferrous solitude. You wonder what your combined scent, your togetherness, will smell like. It must be something sweet. Promising, like a refreshing summer rain.

"Yeah."

He caresses you slowly now, until his hand comes to rest on top of your head, making sure you won't escape his sanctuary.

"Never do it again," he commands, so soft, voice only a smoked whisper. "Love. I need you to promise me."

"Mh."

"Promise me."

You're feeling sleepy and spent, and he's to blame for it – he simply feels too good. You decide that your first kiss can wait just a little while longer. It's only wonderful; to have something lovely and pure to wait for.

"I promise…"

You drift off to sleep, cradled by the safe slopes of his mountain.

#ghost x you #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #ghost smut #simon riley smut #simon riley x you #ghost x female reader #simon riley x female reader

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yeyinde · 1 year

Text

WICKER PYRE | Dragon!Price x Reader

All things considered, you should have expected it. You know better than to make deals with dragons.

WARNINGS: 18+ | light smut—no descriptions of anatomy used for the reader; possessive undertones; dragon trickery; blink and you'll miss it Celtic Dragon mythology and folklore WORD COUNT: 1,5K NOTES: They tempted me with hellfire and pretty imagery, so. Here we are.

It smells of biochar, pyrolysis. The incendiary heat sparks to life around you; a thick, impenetrable wall of stifling warmth, and you blink through the haze, the heat mirage, that swims in front of your eyes, trying to clear the clouds from your vision.

It's hot.

Hellfire. Inferno. Absolute.

Paradoxically, it edges into dry heat—wildfires: burning forests, charred logs, crumbling charcoal, ashes—but your skin is drenched in sweat; sticky, tacky. Hot springs. Lavascape.

You're drowning in Phlegethon, hands clawing at molten skin to stay afloat.

"Shush, shush—"

It's a wheezing rasp. A rumble that rebounds against the carverous, limestone walls and echoes in your ears. The vibrations of it rattle through your chest and dislodge the panic from between your ribs.

"Easy, now."

Despite the smoked-cured softness of the voice above you, around you, in you, it booms through your marrow; the sudden shift of the plates. A tectonic shockwave that bludgeons into you.

"Can't—" you start, words a desperate, aching whine. "Can't—John—it's so hot—!"

His answer is a grunt; a rolling, monstrous sound that shivers across your skin. It's easy, with his front pressed against your back, his words hissed into your crown, to forget that he isn't a man. That his body is made of the valleys: carved from chiselled andesite, graphite, and limestone. Coursing through his veins is ichor and brimstone, fed from the burning pyre inside his chest that blooms tuffs of smoke, and reeks of ash.

He quiets you with another low pur, and feeds the tips of his steel claws into your flesh, anchoring you tight to his body.

And then you hear the fire-painted voice speak from between his nicotine fangs: "I know."

And you suppose he would.

Molten blood. Igneous skin. His voice is Pyroclastic: tephra falling from his heaving chest.

With the exception of his pointed, angular claws, his hands almost look human. Almost.

But when they grip your hips tight, the skin of his palms feels too thick. Too velveteen. Like the soft underbelly of a reptile.

Those claws hold you steady as he slides the full, burning length of himself into you. The blunt press of his cock splitting you apart, and the rasp of his knuckles, rough with blackened osteoderms protruding from his thick skin, makes you shiver. It feels like sandpaper when it prickles over your flesh.

You try to gasp but the oxygen in the room is swallowed by the flames. Try to move but his weight on your body is a plutonic ash bed. A prison.

Jewels and gems nip at your skin when you ramble to find purchase on the treasure trove of his nest, to find something to hold onto while your body is slowly consumed by the unrelenting heat of him stretching you into a shape you do not recognise.

"Tryna run?" He mocks. "Thought you could handle it, mm? Wasn't that our deal? Do you know what happens to little humans who try to break their promises?"

You want to bite back something scathing, something dripping in venom and cruelty, but the words are ground into peat salt when he presses the full weight of himself onto you, using the momentum to snap his hips harder, faster, than he was before.

(You swear, swear, you feel the white-hot tip of him digging harshly into your sternum.)

But he's merciful—to a degree—and his hand lifts, drops in front of your nose, claws gleaming in the flames that surround his den, his prison, his home.

You take in the sight of his heat-scorched skin—a chromosphere of living magma: blistering red dusted with fine ash. It's pretty. Stunning. You're mesmerised by the ripples of fire running in thick rivulets beneath his carbonised pelt, and you know, then, why he's so sought after. Respected. Feared.

(Who would try and run afoul around a man, a being, a beast, who has hellfire burning in his veins?)

The brief respite splinters when he shifts forward, pushing himself as deep into your body as he can possibly go, and the world around you lists sharply on its axis when he pulses, branding you from the inside out, turning your body into a magma chamber that only fits him—

You can't breathe—haven't been able to since you rocked up to the smouldering cavern on the side of a mountain, and demanded he make a deal with you. It's hard to acclimate to the carbon-rich air that thrums around you like a thick curtain of plasma, threatening to consume you whole.

"Easy, now, pretty thing," he purrs again and the deep rumble that spills from his expansive chest seems to glue to each bone in your body, reverberating deep within your liquifying marrow.

His elbow falls, chin presses into your crown. He breathes you in, and the world around you shudders, and ripples like the glimmering sea of a heat haze. An optical illusion. A mirage. But one that flexes around you like water; moulding to your body, and filling in all the crevasses and canyons until the plasmic air clings to your skin.

Smoke billows with his exhale. You scent charred tobacco leaves, brimstone, crushed granite, and burning rock—sharp and acrid. The smell sticks to the back of your throat and colours your lungs in a fine layer of rock dust.

The world around you shakes when he growls into your crown, nose pressed tight to your sweat-slicked skin.

It feels like an earthquake rattling inside of you, shaking loose the paper-thin threads of sanity that keep you still beneath his bulk.

"Ah, John—"

His forearm slides closer to your gasping mouth, and you scent guncotton on his skin. Thick. Heady. It makes your head swim, and a fever bloom in your veins.

"There," he huffs into your hair, and the plume of his voice heats the world around you by several degrees. "Now you have something to hold on to, love."

His voice is pinched with something that sounds mockingly cruel, mordant, but there's a softness in the way he holds you close; a tenderness that biles the roughness of his hands, the sharp drag of his claws against your flesh.

"Now," he continues, hand tightening on your skin hard enough to bruise your tremulous bones. "Be good, and let me fuck you."

With that, he snaps forward until he's once buried to the hilt. Fangs prickle across your shoulder blade when he lowers his maw to your skin. Each heavy exhale through his nose leaves a scorching mark over your flesh until it's blistered and raw.

He sets a brutal pace, and each time he sinks in deep, you feel something inside of you splinter, break. It's unlike anything, anything, you'd ever felt before—a liquid pleasure and pain that melts together into burning heat. It feels like euphoria and punishment in the same breath: an equilibrium of salvation and condemnation.

Each growl that leaves his heaving chest shakes the cobwebs from between your ribs, and fills them with ash and smoke. It seeps into your bloodstream, poisoning you with each harsh stroke.

(You forgot that he was poisonous—)

But it's too late.

Lost in the delirious cloud of heat, ozone, and John, all you can do is wrap your tiny hands around the thick of his forearm, nails barely leaving a mark on his thick pelt, and cling to him as he takes what you offered with greedy claws, and gluttonous eyes, pounding you into his bed of furs, and stolen gems and gold. Treasure toppled to the ceiling of the cavern they warned you to stay away from. The precious clutch of a monster who protects his wares with fire and madness. Raining wrath and fury, white-hot rage and red-hot desperation, down on anyone who dares to get close.

It's too much, too much, but you knew what you were getting into when you tried to barter with him.

("Let's make a deal—"

And he'd said, "you must be desperate. Don't you know what I am—"

His noctilucent eyes burned in the dark.

Mocking. Cruel. Hungry.)

All you can do now is hope, somehow, that you make out in a single piece. That all your vibrating atoms stay whole; intact. That you don't lose yourself inside the madness of heat, and burning fire.

That you'll make it out, alive.

—if, of course, he lets you go—

But those hopes are dashed when his molten tongue flickers out, laving a burning path across your neck.

"You'll look so good in all my gold," he snarls, a thundershock right into your core.

And then he sinks his fangs into your neck.

You should have known from the start when he looked at you with hunger, rapacious greed in his keen, sharp eyes that you were not leaving his den again.

(The most precious piece in his hoard.)

Your body is a wicker pyre made to be burned. From the charred ashes, something new will rise. A phoenix trapped in the paws of a beast who likes pretty, shiny things, and will never let go.

(And really, what else did you expect when you decided to tempt a dragon?)

#captain price x reader #john price x reader #captain john price x reader #i hate tagging stuff #ughhhhhh #dragon!Price #COD Monster AU #john price #captain john price #captain price

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valorantmenheadcanons · 2 years

Text

Intro/Guide Post

—

Hi I’m Lio, I’m a gay trans guy. He/him, 19. Autistic as well, sorry if I don’t post anything for a while, I get wrapped up into new things that look shiny way too fast. I’m an animation student but I like writing in my free time :>

This blog is solely for prompts, scenarios, and headcanons of the valorant guys (rip to fem characters but I am just so gay)

I will write for female, male, or gender neutral readers. If you’d like to send in a request, please include which one, otherwise I’ll write for neutral reader.

I will write anything, including 18+ content, dark content, etc because I am a whore. Go ahead, be nasty in my ask box, it’s ok

#valorant #valorant headcanons #valorant cypher #valorant x reader #valorant sova #valorant omen #valorant chamber #valorant fanfiction #valorant yoru #valorant kayo #valorant brimstone #valorant phoenix #valorant harbor #valorant breach #valorant smut

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oldshowbiz · 1 year

Photo

Simulate Sex to Duck Pornography

#vintage smut #censorship #Fire and Brimstone #memphis #tennessee

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saintmuses · 10 days

Text

❝𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚 𝙗𝙮 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙜𝙡𝙤𝙬 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙙𝙖𝙨𝙝𝙗𝙤𝙖𝙧𝙙 𝙡𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩❞

Pairing:

Jealous!Jonathan Crane x Reader

Summary:

Despite they were not even together, Jonathan Crane made her suffer the consequences for flirting with Bruce Wayne.

Warning(s): implied future SMUT. Slightly Dub-con. Dominant and implied possessive Jonathan. Spanking. Minors, dni!

Word Count: 954

The steering wheel groaned slightly under the pressure of Jonathan’s hands that were curled into fists around it.

He couldn’t stop the moments from spilling over in his head like flashbacks in a film reel on the screen.

She was…so gorgeous tonight. In that sparkly dress that drew the attention of everyone.

Even Bruce Wayne walked up to her with intentions in his eyes to take her home with him.

Jonathan didn’t…he didn’t think she would be the one to flirt back with that godforsaken man who considered himself as the savior of Gotham, to feed the fuel to the fire of brimstone and ashes inside of his mind.

He was violently screaming inside of his head, unraveling as his rationality fell apart by each word that repeated back to him as a sacred prayer he refused to kneel for.

One of the things he dealt with on a daily basis as a symbolism of insanity that sometimes shone in his icy blue eyes, through words from his tongue, or even in his laughter when he was alone in empty space with four walls around him.

Jonathan was breathing heavily, the pure rage within him having reached its height.

No one had a claim to her, but him. He had always been secretly possessive over her in many forms. When they were in college, she became his friend, and he went so far as eradicating her other friends that way she could only go to him in the name of friendship. However, he had always knew he wanted her, but never as far as doing anything because he never had to worry about her finding other people to be with.

Now that chain that held them together was weakening as it was clear the bond was going to be threatened by others.

She was his.

He steered the car toward the edge of the dirt off the road, then he slammed his foot on the brakes causing the tires to screech as he did so. He pulled the vehicle to a sudden stop causing her to turn her head to look at him with confusion in her gaze.

Jonathan turned towards her but said nothing, his eyes locked on her as his body trembled from the intense rage and he felt like he could burst.

“You really are something special, you know that?” He finally said something, although icily, eyes blazing with brimstone as he stared straight at her.

He was furious to the point that he couldn’t see or think clearly, but he couldn’t deny how much of a lure she was to him.

“I’m not sure why I haven’t given you a good spanking yet,” he huffed, storm began to take over his irises as his lips curled into a snarl.

Her breathing hitched as her eyes widened before narrowing it. “I dare you.” She hissed, eyes narrowing in fury as she challenged him.

Oh, she should know he would accept it.

He heard her yelping when he reached across the passenger seat and dragged her over onto him in the driver’s seat where she was forced to accommodate her knees around his thighs on the leather. He then dragged the hem of her dress just under the curve of her ass, and she gasped when he landed a hard smack on the back of her thigh.

He wasn’t going to stop with one spanking, and he continued to slap one of her thighs until she started to let out little gasps, ending with whimpering.

“You deserve every red mark that’s going to be on your skin, sweetheart.” He said lowly, informing her with monotonous tone.

He reached for her thighs to grab the hem of her dress, pushing it up until it bunched up around her waist. He did all that too quickly that she did not have time to react to his ministrations. She hissed in surprise when his hands grabbed her ass; fingers squeezing her flesh firmly in a possessive hold, ignoring the lace of her panties before using one of his hands to land a harsh smack on her ass. “You’re mine.”

Of course, he knew she was surprised by his behavior since he had never acted like that towards her. He continued to alternatively swat her thighs and her ass, enjoying every second he could spend making her feel the sting of his slaps.

“Am I making myself clear to you, sweetheart?” he growled, glaring at her through the glass bounded by his metal frames.

He withdrew one of his hands from her ass until he reached between them, reaching down towards her legs. His lips curled into a smirk when he smacked her hard between her legs, enjoyed hearing her gasp.

Jonathan noticed the sudden change in her body language and the way her eyes widened as he crossed the line.

Her eyes were a bit strung out, and before she could respond, he reached behind her and grabbed her ass with his fingers, digging into her raw skin with his fingertips which made her thighs quiver in response while whimpering.

He knew he was getting to her, and he was enjoying it. A part of him could never see himself taking this far, but he couldn’t stop himself now.

He looked at her with a slight maniac grin and continued to slap the inside of her thigh, then he reached for the thin fabric of her panties, curling his fingers into the underwear before pulling it aside until her cunt was exposed as he gave her another slap. He mentally noted a slick sensation that came from her cunt.

“Enjoying this, sweetheart?” he said condescendingly, his voice growing lower and more deeply with each word.

#jonathan crane #jonathan crane x y/n #jonathan crane x you #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane smut #the dark knight trilogy #cillian murphy x reader

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minkdelovely · 2 months

Text

love and power

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

prelude

“ask for forgiveness,

never permission.”

Alastor x Fem!Reader ; MDNI 18+ ; [y/n] used sparingly ; Alias in Hell is Sylvie

tags: acid rain wound, cannibals living their best lives in cannibal town, slow burn eventual: smut, violence, toxic themes

word count: 1.7k

hello world! i currently have alastor brain rot and felt compelled to jump back into writing fan fiction. i’m a little rusty and i’m not sure how many parts there will be; i won’t deny that this is purely self-indulgent but i hope you enjoy all the same :)

prelude ; chapter one ; chapter two ; chapter three ; chapter four ; chapter five ; chapter six ; chapter seven ; chapter eight

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Hell wasn’t what you had expected it to be. It was worse.

Thoughts of your grandmother rose to your mind, despite how desperately you tried to push them down. “Hell is the absence of God,” she would always say after one of her famous rants. A warning you perhaps would have heeded, had it been coming from a place of love instead of moral superiority.

You had seen her on the streets of Hell a few times now, always sure to avoid catching her attention. The warm pleasure that bloomed in your chest was too precious to give up, despite knowing how good it would feel to rub her fate in her face. A lot of good all those Sunday mornings had done her, haughty bitch! You wondered how often your grandmother laid awake at night, desperate to know how she had ended up here. A wicked grin spread across your lips, revealing milky-pink fangs.

It was hard not to imagine the look your father would have given you if you could tell him she was here. He would definitely have scolded you, but you knew a small part of him would be amused. If calling her a bad grandmother was putting it lightly, she was an even worse mother-in-law. Hopefully you would never get the chance to tell him; Mother was waiting for him in Heaven, after all. And things should be much easier for him now, all things considered. Leaving him alone hadn’t been part of the plan, so all you could do was tell yourself that it had been worth it. Someday you would believe it.

Grandmother was right though, loathe as you were to admit it, and the feeling of loss burned through you every morning when you awoke. Every night, you dreamed of rain; the sound of it, the smell of it, the feeling of it coming down on you in the middle of the family garden. Oh, how you missed the garden. The dark, wet dirt. Blue puffs of hydrangea against stark-white azaleas, your mother’s coveted yellow roses. The Spanish Moss hanging like phantom sails off the branches of the huge oak tree in the corner, where your father had placed a bench and made a small pond. You would sit under that tree for hours lost in a book, listening to the sounds of the garden.

The fire and brimstone you could endure. It was the way everything else was twisted here that was grueling. As if feeling your lament, a drop of acid rain hit your window, quickly morphing into a full-blown storm. A frustrated growl erupted from you and you rolled onto your stomach, burying your head under your pillow and said a silent prayer to whatever force would grant mercy on your roof. You couldn’t afford to get it fixed again. The prayer had been answered just a moment after the rain stopped, when a drop of it fell from the ceiling and onto your pale, unsuspecting calf, your mattress absorbing the scream of pain that tore through your chest.

As the acid made its way through your leg, and eventually your mattress, all you could do was sob. Eternity… This was eternity.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

If this morning had been good, the day could only now be considered grand.

There was really nothing quite like a post-rain stroll through Cannibal Town, witnessing the misfortune of partially-dissolved sinners who had been caught in the deluge being consumed on the streets by the lively, ever-hungry inhabitants. Alastor would never tire of this jovial bunch that called this part of the Pentagram home, reveling in the sound of screams, the crunching of bone, the almost-lewd and animalistic grunts of feasting.

Were Rosie not expecting him for tea, he might have allowed himself to join in on the fun. Alas, his only solace was that Rosie never served anything less than superb, being the excellent hostess that she is.

He was quite intrigued by her invitation to join her alone, which meant that this likely wasn’t anything to do with donating a small army of cannibals to aid in the fight against the Angels. Indeed, Charlie’s presence would be required once it was time to cash that favor in.

Not that he didn’t enjoy a casual visit (as casual a visit between Overlords could be), he couldn’t help but wonder. Thinking a few steps ahead was a must if one was going to thrive in Hell, and well, it was no secret that Alastor was doing a pretty fine job at that, all things considered. He began to whistle, earning a few gory smiles from cannibals who stopped mid-meal to enjoy the tune. A true honor.

Rosie opened the door for him before he even had the chance to knock, the “Closed for Rain” sign clattering against the glass as she cooed. “Alastorrr! Come in, come in, before it starts raining again.”

As if on queue, a roll of thunder tore through the clouds, drawing a cheer from the denizens of Cannibal Town in anticipation for round two.

“Rosie, my dear, always an honor and a privilege to be deemed worthy of your company,” Alastor said, bowing his head as Rosie feigned a blush, leading him to the parlor where they would be taking their tea.

The usual pleasantries were exchanged between sips of tea, coffee, and candied organs, which Alastor forced himself to consume through sheer courtesy. It was all part of the art of visiting, one he quite enjoyed, and he would never shame his mother’s memory with bad manners. They had just finished a plate of finger sandwiches when Rosie leaned in slightly, the conspiring grin on her face letting him know that it was, at last, time for business.

“You’re always so good to indulge me, Alastor. It doesn’t go unnoticed,” she said, grinning as she motioned to a maid to come grab their empty plates. “I’m sure you’ve been dying to know why I asked you over here this afternoon.”

“Oh, Rosie, it’s purely selfish! You know how hard it is to find good company in this godforsaken place. I’m more than grateful to receive your hospitality,” he said with a trademark smile and flick of the wrist, leaning back in his chair as the maid cleared the table.

She had just turned to leave with their plates when the smile on his face nearly faltered. Was that… almond he smelled? It had been so long, but he was fairly certain it was. There was an underlying trace of blood, though that was common enough around here. But almond? It was too pleasant for Hell.

Rosie’s eyes darkened to match her grin, not missing the twitch of Alastor’s mouth. She knew he’d have been able to smell it. It seemed that so far only Hellborn could pick it up, but what would be the fun in letting him know that?

“Divine, isn’t she? A walking pastry, but not much of a talker. I like to bring her around whenever a room needs some pizzazz! She would’ve been eaten alive had I not taken her in,” Rosie whispered cheekily, as the maid returned with a fresh kettle and a gelatin mold for dessert. Rosie, not missing a beat once the tray had been set down, turned to her with a smile. “Thank you dear, you can leave now. I’ll ring the bell if we need anything else.”

The maid gave a silent curtsy and left the room as instructed, her sweet scent clinging to the air. Since coming to Hell, he took pleasure in the taste of bloody iron, the bite of black coffee. But in life… Memories of marzipan and frangipane tarts swam in his mind. And hadn’t Mother used almonds in her cherry pie crust? It took Alastor all he had not to drool, unsettled by the sudden rush of saliva in his mouth. Ages had passed since he last thought of such sweet things. He cleared his throat with as much grace as he could muster. Rosie only grinned.

“Well, she’s certainly new, so I suppose it’s not surprising she doesn’t talk much. It’s quite easy to tell when a sinner is… adjusting. So morose! You’re very gracious to have taken her on.” Alastor took a sip of coffee, desperate to get that almond smell out of his nostrils.

“We both seem to be rather gracious these days, don’t you think?”

And there it was.

Rosie sat back in her chair and crossed her legs as she continued. “I was actually wondering if perhaps she might fare better in that hotel you’re running. Don’t get me wrong, she smells incredible, but fuck does she suck the air out of a room once the novelty wears off. She was scaring away clients, and you know it’s pretty bad if cannibals are uneasy around you for Christ’s sake, which is why I had her start working back here, but…”

Alastor had to resist gripping his knee, putting all his effort into maintaining a pleasant face. He had expected to be asked for a favor of sorts, but never did he imagine that Rosie wanted him to take on an employee. She’s had sinners sign contracts for little less than a new parasol, let alone a job. There was something more to this.

And beyond being an air freshener, what good was she for, really? He could deal with quiet, but to have to put up with yet another sulky face! What he had done to deserve it, he didn’t know.

But he knew there wasn’t really a choice other than to take the poor creature into his charge. Rosie was an alley he deeply cherished, and he was already in her debt for the help she had provided just weeks ago. This was no doubt the first part of paying that debt back, a sign of goodwill. Not every deal was beneficial from the start; still, Alastor wouldn’t outright accept the offer. That was part of the fun.

“Well we already have a maid,” Alastor said gently, “but after the recent renovation, we are anticipating more sinners to check in. Not that I doubt Niffty’s abilities, but I suppose she could do with some help when business picks up. How long were you thinking of lending her to our cause?”

Rosie waved her hand. “Lend? Oh, honey, if you’re willing to take her, she’s yours. I’ve got plenty of helping hands, but it does me no good to have such a wet blanket hanging around. There’s just the matter of…,” Rosie trailed off as she reached into her purse, retrieving what Alastor already knew she had been grabbing for, “…her contract.”

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fan fiction #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #alastor x reader #alastor x female reader #alastor smut #hazbin hotel smut #song fic #if i can’t have love i want power #love and power #x reader #slow burn #the radio demon #hazbin hotel slow burn

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