#i can be like ''ah. i understood that reference''

[echthr0s]

oooo I get it. it's called 2001 because it feels 2001 minutes long. like what the actual fuck was all of that

[obssessivethorn]

Yuu Makes Constant References No One Else Gets

Since I started playing Twst Wonderland, I can’t help but imagine Yuu starting out by constantly making references to pop culture and memes from their world only to realize midway through that no one else around them will understand it 

[Masterlist]

Just imagine: 

In the early stages of the game, Yuu starts to gradually feel more comfortable around their friends, mainly Ace, Deuce, and Grim

At first, they slowly start to feel at home again 

They’d begin loosening up and speaking more like how they would in their home world 

In this case, that means more references and obscure humor 

Especially if we’re basing Yuu’s home world on our current day world

There are so many intricate inside jokes on the internet that wouldn’t make an ounce of sense to anyone who has never been exposed to that kind of environment like we have 

So, when Yuu first made an obscure reference in a conversation with the Single Braincell Gang™, they fall back into their closed off space

Because they’re not from here 

They have a whole other world to get back to 

If they can even get back to it 

And while Ace and Deuce may not be the brightest, the two had gotten to know Yuu enough to know that something was off with them. They just couldn’t place what

After the first few slip ups, Yuu had started talking less and less

They started letting Grim speak for the both of them more often, only speaking when others addressed them or when it was about a topic concerning Twisted Wonderland

From an outside point of view, nothing seemed to have changed. They still hung out with the other first years, laughed and teased their friends, and regularly asked or answered questions in class

But those closer to the Ramshackle prefect could sense the hesitation whenever they were about to say something 

“You should have seen Crewel’s face when Deucey asked that question!” Ace recounted the event between fits of laughter.  Yuu sat with the other first years at their (unspokenly claimed) lunch table, happily chuckling at their boys’ antics. They held Grim in their lap, being used as his personal high-chair like usual, subconsciously running one of their hands through the monster’s soft fur and munching on their own sandwich with the other.  “I wouldn’t have asked such a stupid question if I wasn’t so tired from you keeping me up all night with your complaining about that test we have today!” Deuce retorted, grumpily taking another bite of his egg noodles. Though he looked away from his friends, the flustered blush on his cheeks was still easily seen by the group.  The prefect let out another giggle, “I swear, Crewel looked exactly like that one meme with the lady surrounded by all those different equations-!”  “Huh? Is that a new one I haven’t seen?” Epel asked, his head cocked to the side in question. Had it been any other situation, Yuu might have found it cute. But their embarrassment was too strong for any thought like that to surface.  “Ah-! Nevermind, sorry. It’s an old meme from my home world.” They let out an awkward laugh before looking down and stuffing another bite of their sandwich into their mouth. Their face felt hot and they wished for nothing more than the floor to open up and swallow them, never to be seen in Twisted Wonderland again.  “Y-yeah, and then Crewel assigned Juice like, a hundred more pages of homework to make sure he understood the topic!” Quickly, Ace diverted the others’ attention back to him, no doubt after sending a look of pity to the prefect.  “Hundre-! It was only ten!” Deuce exclaimed, mouth full of pasta.  Yuu could only mentally thank Ace for saving them from the piteous stares from the others. It was no secret that home was a sore subject for the prefect. Any time they spoke about it, their eyes would glaze over with nostalgic longing. Ace and Deuce would often ask them about traditions or cultures back in their world, both out of interest and because the two knew Yuu loved telling them about it. 

Other times, however, aren’t grim reminders of how Crowley isn’t actually looking for a way home

Instead, they have these little moments with themself where they make references to things from their home world as an inside joke

Even if they don’t understand, Yuu’s friends still notice the tiny smirks or held laughs on occasion

But they’d never say anything about it, because it’s obvious how the small joke grounds Yuu and comforts them with the familiarity 

“C’mon! We’re all in this together!” Yuu hastily spouted, trying to stop Ace from running away from his cleaning duties, again. Before Ace could even respond, the prefect immediately let out a bout of laughter and grabbed the boy’s arm, yanking him down the hall while humming a song he’d never heard before between occasional giggles.

Yuu starts recording Grim who is knocked out on their bed. Light snores come from the fluffball. Yuu is heard sniffling behind the camera. “Oh meow meow get up,” they croak. Their hand comes up to lightly shake Grim, stirring him awake and now very confused. “Oh shit meow meow, I thought you was dead-,” Yuu giggles out, further confusing a very dazed Grim

“C’mon, Yuu, the question’s not that bad!” Epel said in between laughs.  “Yeah, Yuu! It’s just three more of these!” Ace could barely get the words out as he slowly collapsed in silent laughter. He slid further down in the library chair he occupied, hand clasping his chest in an effort to breathe yet still remain quiet.  “No, I’ve had it! I am disgusted!” Yuu continued to furiously pack their materials. “I am revolted!” They fumble in closing their notebook and quickly give up, letting the papers crumple up as they shove it into their bag. “I dedicate my entire life to our lord and savior Jesus Christ, and this is the thanks I get?”  The rest of the first years watch as Yuu slings their bag over their shoulder and promptly makes their way out of the library. Ace practically gasps for air. Epel finds himself in a giggle fit, unable to stop. Deuce is a mixture of confusion, amusement, and horror while he very obviously is still processing what just happened. Sebek can only look surprised, unsure of how to proceed. And finally, Jack is just as surprised but is holding back his own chuckles that threaten to spill. 

“Ace, you idiot! There’s a ‘b’ in ‘subtle’.” Deuce scolded. “What?! Where’s the ‘b’?”  “There’s a bee?” Yuu’s quivering voice quietly broke the tension. “Yuu!”

“Whoa, Yuu, I honestly didn’t know you could do that!” Yuu looked at him with a deadpan expression bordering on offended. ”Do you think I fuck around?”  (definitely more obscure but if you understand this i love you) ((Hint: Brennen Lee Mulligan in a Game Changer episode))

Any g-note plays and Yuu’s eyes widen in recognition

“Floyd, Jamil, Ace. You guys gotta get your head in the game.” 

Whether you wish to view it as romantic or platonic, the fact in undeniable that the cast is weak to hearing and seeing Yuu ramble on about things back from their world, specifically the first years or Heartslabyul boys

I personally really like the headcannon that only really the Heartslabyul boys, and maybe the rest of the first years, are in on Yuu being from a different world. It makes certain moments hurt just a bit more with the idea of little to no one knowing that Yuu is meant to inevitably leave. But i digress

Yuu could just be reminded of their favorite dish back home or a song they were obsessed with when they were younger, but the way they talk about it is mesmerizing to the boys. Their eyes light up with an aching mixture of nostalgia, longing, and joy. Recounting old stories or stupid trends they participated in never fails to crack just the slightest bit of a smile on their lips. 

For some odd reason, the way they describe their home world feels like taking a sip of a warm drink on a cold winter day. Comforting in all the right ways. Warming you from the inside despite the harsh environment surrounding. 

Not only does Yuu make it all sound like a fantasy at times, which is technically true given it’s a different world/dimension, but they somehow give the boy a strange glimmer of hope too. Like they too will have a chance to visit and experience the same joys. Only, there’s no chance of that happening. Right? 

[charliemwrites]

Part 2!

Finally finished moving house so hopefully I’ll be updating semi-regularly again.

Content: brief and non-descriptive explanation of Rasputin’s backstory (injury and illness)

Agatha is over again.

You don’t know why. She doesn’t like you, your cats, or anything as far as you can tell. It seems her primary motivation for talking to you at all is to exercise her role as neighborhood matriarch. She “keeps tabs” on everyone, but especially you - the unmarried woman living alone that keeps odd hours.

A rebellious part of you wants to roll your eyes and make snarky comments whenever she sniffs at your life choices. The same part of you that would make scenes at holiday dinners or slam doors when you were a teenager. That girl has long been smoothed and polished - or maybe just worn down. It’s so much effort to make rude, nosy, traditionalists clutch their pearls. Much easier to smile in their face and do what you want anyway.

Still, that part of you itches at the surface sometimes. Makes your eye twitch.

“I know your generation is different but that’s just not the type of neighborhood we live in,” she’s saying.

You’re a bit foggy from a late night patching plotholes and haven’t registered much of anything she’s said. You really just want to go inside and stare at the TV until words make sense again.

“What do you mean?” you ask, for once not feigning your confusion. But of course this is the one time she doesn’t buy it.

She looks down her frail little nose at you, cornflower blue eyes baleful. You don’t feel scolded, but you sense that you’re supposed to.

“Now you know just what I mean. People will talk.”

People always talk, it’s an unfortunate byproduct of the human condition. Like a deaf bird, you’ve never understood all the chatter.

“Talk about… the buttercups?” you wonder, pointing at the blossoms. You’re quite proud of them actually.

Agatha puffs up and hisses out a breath. “You ought to keep to this side of the street. Away from those men.”

You blink. Men…?

A bang comes from across the street, followed by rough German cursing. (At least you think it’s cursing.)

Ah. Those men.

“I was just welcoming them to the neighborhood.”

It comes out of your mouth automatically, innocent excuses for something you remind yourself you don’t need to justify.

“I’d rather they didn’t feel welcome,” she snips. “Better they sell that awful house and go somewhere else.”

You flick your eyes over her bony shoulder. Konig passes by a window, massive biceps on display as he lifts something outside of view.

“They’re nice,” you say. Nice to look at. Krueger’s face alone quite makes up for his conversational shortcomings.

“The only reason men like that act nice is because they want something,” Agatha snaps. “This is a respectable neighborhood.”

Yeah, soooo respectable when Bertram rifles through your mail or Lisa looks into your backyard.

“Well,” you muse, “better to be on good terms with them, I think. They're not the type you want to piss off.”

That defiant streak lights up at the way her face sours. If only she knew what sort of words you use when it’s just you and the cats.

“You’ve just proven my point. Those are not the type of men young ladies should associating themselves with.”

You have to try very hard not to scrunch up your face. One blessed day, people will stop referring to you as “young lady” in that insufferably condescending tone. You can’t wait for that day.

Some of your mounting irritation must show on your face because she takes on a sickly sweet “teaching” tone.

“Neighborhoods are like gardens. Everything grows best when the rows are kept separate. That’s why the farmers plant them that way.”

You glance pointedly at your own yard, where the flowers are blooming in haphazard sprigs wherever you tossed the seeds. Agatha’s lips get thin.

“Best that you stay on this side of the street, missy. That’s the last I’ll hear of it.”

She spins on her heel and stalks off like a particularly drab bird. You stand on your porch for a second longer, face contorted in annoyed confusion. You don’t even have strong feelings about the three men; the simple act of someone - Agatha of all people - labeling them as “Off Limits” makes them instantly more appealing.

Maybe you should see someone about that or something. Then the pathetic cries of Guy through the window lure you back inside.

It’s nearly sundown when there’s a knock at your door. Still agitated from your talk with Agatha, you puff up like Shithead when Rasputin sits on her favorite toy. March up to the door, fling it open - and come up short when you see the three men looming on your doorstep.

Before you can recover, a little gray blob scrambles past your ankles, crying like the sky is falling.

“Oh!” Konig gasps in pleasant surprise. “Hallo, Bubchen!”

And all 6-foot-plus of Austrian instantly folds to scoop Guy up. You’ve barely managed a now-useless shout of alarm when Shithead wedges her fat head between your calves. Behind you, Rasputin politely screeches his little chainsmoker call.

And somehow, in the chaos of fumbling for furballs, you end up with all three men in your foyer.

Guy is purring away in Konig’s thick arms. Shithead is attempting to scale Krueger’s tight cargo pants. And Rasputin is pawing the air at Nikto, visibly calculating the jump to his wide shoulders.

Which leaves you with the clean serving platter you dropped off just yesterday. You blink at it for a moment, then glance at them.

“So… the cookies were good then?”

“Very good!” Konig rushes to say. Krueger and Nikto each nod, almost comically solemn.

“We have no baking or cooking skills,” Krueger continues, “so tell us what needs fixing.”

It takes you a moment to understand what he means. The house. He wants to fix your house. It’s surprisingly sweet, and you laugh a bit, shaking your head. “You don’t need to do that, I was just-“

“Is custom,” Nikto interrupts.

Konig nods with all the enthusiasm of a bobblehead as Krueger crosses his arms. (Whatever effect he’s going for is ruined by Shithead clinging to his pocket and screaming.)

“In our country, we bring gifts as guests. Our gift is repairs,” he explains.

You arch your brows playfully. “I don’t remember inviting you to be guests.”

He arches his brows right back. “We did not invite you either.”

Well shit.

“Okay, okay. I guess there’s a couple things…”

Konig perks up. “We would be happy to help, Biene!”

It’s strange having men in the house. You think you should be more nervous about it, can’t remember the last non-family man allowed into your space. Especially alone.

There’s a sharp awareness, of course. Hard not to be aware of them. It’s not just that they’re big, dwarfing all of your you-sized furniture. There’s a presence to them, something felt but not seen by your untrained eye. Maybe it’s in the set of their shoulders, the way they stand with both boots firmly planted. Maybe it’s the precise way they speak and move, not just separately but as a unit. Acting more like a collective consciousness than as individuals.

Whatever it is, you couldn’t ignore them if you tried. And you’re definitely not trying.

You set Krueger to work on the kitchen cabinet you’ve been meaning to replace. He clicks his tongue at the tape-and-lean method you’ve been using to keep the old one in place. Shithead immediately sets to work helping by gnawing at his shoelaces.

Konig is stationed in the guest bathroom, where the sink doesn’t run right. Guy comes mewing into your arms when he’s set down, effectively tattling that his new friend is mean and awful for withholding affection for even a moment.

You try not to visibly hesitate when you corner yourself in your own laundry room. Nikto has followed you right in, seemingly unaware that he’s invading your personal space. He’s not even looking at you though, eyes zeroed in on the dryer you point to.

“It’s not heating up, so the clothes stay wet or take forever to dry,” you explain.

He grunts in acknowledgement, then nods to Rasputin, who has taken up residence on the washer. His one golden eye blinks slow and serene at the two of you.

“What happened?” he asks.

You hum, softening in pleasant surprise at the question.

“I’m not sure how he lost his eye. It was infected when I found him. But I know for sure the tail and leg are from getting hit by a car.”

You sigh, scratching at Rasputin’s chin. A rusty purr starts up as he tilts his head, revealing some nasty scars around his throat.

“The vet said that that’s probably from a fight with another cat,” you add.

Guy steps from your arms to cuddle up to Rasputin, shoving his face into his ragged ear. Grooming time, then. That’s as good an indication as any that Nikto’s probably safe enough.

“I ran down from an office building to save him.” You blink hard, eyes stinging just from the memory. “But anyway, he gets to rest and be pampered now.”

When you glance up from Rasputin’s happy little face, you almost startle at the sharp blue eyes pinning you in place. Your face feels warm, even though you’re not embarrassed.

“I’ll, um, get out of the way,” you say, clearing your throat. “Keep an eye on things, Ras.”

With the men occupied, you find yourself once again at loose ends. You drift towards the den, but it feels awkward to sit on your ass watching TV while your neighbors fix your house.

You check the time on your phone - ignoring the text from your mother - and figure it’s not too early to start dinner.

“Will I be in the way if I start cooking?” you ask Krueger.

He flicks you a dimissive glance. “A little thing like you?”

You scoff and cross to the fridge. “You could have just said no.”

“Nein,” he snorts.

Rude bastard, you think - though not without fondness, unfortunately. The surly attitude is already growing on you.

There’s meat and spare boxes of pasta and veggies - that’ll work. You start tugging out ingredients, mentally doubling portions for your guests. They look like they work out even beyond the construction labor, hopefully you’ll have enough to satisfy their appetites.

“So what’s the plan with the house?” you ask as you get to work. “Just fixing it up to sell or…?”

“We will live there, the three of us,” Krueger answers. He swipes a screwdriver from Shithead’s batting paws. “Somewhere to stay when we are not working.”

You hum, biting back the next obvious question, loathe to become as nosy as the rest of your neighbors. Still… getting to know people, right?

It sounds like they expect to travel a lot. You can’t imagine them as business types - not in the traditional sense anyway. Though the image of Konig sitting in a tiny cubicle does make you smile a bit. Between their statures, their clothes, their shoes, and the occasional nasty scar, you take a guess.

“Are you guys military?”

“Contractor,” Krueger corrects.

You perk up. “Wait, really?”

He scowls. “Does it sound like a joke?”

You huff and turn back to the veggies you’re cutting. “No, no. I just - you know about guns and knives and things, then?”

He pauses. You shoot him a curious glance, only to quickly look away at the intense scrutiny directed your way.

“Yes,” he answers slowly.

“Then… could you maybe answer some questions…?”

His eyes narrow. “Questions?”

You keep your gaze on the cutting board. “Okay, wait, it's not suspicious. I’m a writer and it’s hard to google very specific questions sometimes. It’s just easier to ask an expert in person.”

Never mind that majority of your readers would never know the difference. It bothers you when things aren’t accurate.

He makes a considering noise. “A writer?”

You flush. “That’s what I do. Why I’m always home? I publish fiction.”

He stands, brushing his hands off on his pants. You peek his way, shocked to see a task you’ve been putting off for weeks already done. Hell, it looks sturdier than the rest of the cabinet doors, too.

“And your fiction requires knowledge of guns and knives and ‘things’?” he asks.

Your face feels like it’s on fire. “Sometimes…”

“Fine. I will answer your questions,” he allows.

You beam. “Thank you!”

He grunts, snatches a slice of pepper and pops it into his mouth.

“What else needs doing?”

Dinner ends up much more pleasant than expected. Nikto abstains from eating, you assume because he doesn’t feel comfortable removing his ever-present mask, but he sits at the table with Rasputin in his lap. He speaks little, and has that intense gaze that prickles at your freeze instinct, but you grow used to it as the meal progresses.

Konig, however, becomes chattier with food in his belly. He’s much more forthcoming when he answers your polite and totally casual questions - though you notice Krueger kick him under the table once or twice.

You suppose he gets you back by effectively announcing to the others what your career is. Which just kicks off the usual line of questioning about how and why you got into writing. Still, there’s no judgment from these men that make their living in labors of blood and sacrifice, where you expected censure. You only find genuine curiosity and intrigue, good-natured questions. Not even Krueger makes backhanded comments about it not being a “real” job.

Before you know it, the moon is high and you’re sending the three of them off, bellies full and a little friendlier than before. Nikto nods to you (and Rasputin) as he leaves, a big Tupperware of his dinner portion in hand.

You tell yourself it’s not anticipation that goes through you, knowing they’ll be back with it soon.

Previous | TBC...

Masterlist

[hazelfoureyes]

The SafeWord is RadioApple (part 3)

Alastor x Lucifer

part 2 male reader is coming, this was mostly written though so I wanted to get it out; reader referred to with they/them pronouns

Part 1 ꒰აMaleReader✧FemaleReader໒꒱

Part 2 ꒰აFemaleReader໒꒱

Part 3 ꒰აAlastorxLucifer໒꒱✨NEW✨

Flint and steel 

You made it very clear the two demons had to get along when it came to whatever you three were doing. Which they did! …A great job at pretending to do! They could’ve probably kept it up, until Lucifer tried to humiliate Alastor at a party. Luci says Alastor doesn’t know how to satisfy you? Well Alastor is happy to show him otherwise. Too bad you’re not there….

「Warnings/Promises: DomAlastor x SubLucifer, Reader is not there when it happens, GN reader, choking, hands free ejaculation, anal, bondage?, praise kink, begging, Luci the cocksleeve, Luci the pretty little bird, Alastor tops in every sense, angelic blood kink?, biting, scratching, tentacles briefly penetrate, In every universe Angel appears when he’s not supposed to, Anal Smut sponsored by Ozzie’s Lube; Keep your lust ring happy©」

Minors DNI 👮 ✋

Alastor explained the best he could, that he had wanted to humiliate Lucifer and got a little carried away. In his defence, he had genuinely forgotten he had spoken to Charlie.

“Would I have stayed otherwise?” He asked.

That wasn’t the point.

“I don’t mind your unfounded rivalry. But if you drag this,” you gestured to all three of you, “into it again, we’re gonna have a different conversation.”

His hair bristled. Lucifer opened his mouth, ready to say something mocking, but you cut him off, “That goes for you too. Enough.”

Lucifer pouted, it seemed wholly unfair he be lumped together with Alastor for anything.

Well, not anything. He was finding situations he was quite alright with having Alastor join. 

“Peace. Give me peace. Can you do that? Just dial back this bullshit?”

No. “Of course. I’ll be the perfect gentleman as always.”

Absolutely not. “Not a problem! I literally did nothing wrong, so, haha, super easy.”

“Fair enough, Luci.”

Alastor’s edges sharpened. Nothing? He’d been canoodling you in every public space the hotel had. 

His body relaxed again. Ah, he understood. Alastor was, to his distress, bothered watching Lucifer make public displays of affection with you. It sent out a message to others that Alastor was being undermined in an established relationship since one knew the details, or that perhaps things had ended already and no one had been informed. That was how it could be interpreted. If direct attacks were not acceptable, then he’d just have to make a louder message. 

Alastor’s smile unnerved you. You knew well enough to read his subtle changes in facial expression.

But even with your skill in knowing Alastor better than most, you hadn’t noticed the change in him immediately. It was small at first. A hand on your hip when you were standing side by side. Quite nice.

Pressing into the side of you when sitting on the sofa. Lovely.

A kiss good morning in front of the others. You’d woken up in the same bed, already said good morning. Okay… strange. But appreciated.

Pulling you into his lap in the lobby. “Alastor. An innocent look if he ever could make one. “What’s going on?”

He shrugged, “What ever do you mean?” His smile widened.

How could you complain?

“You’re unusually physical.”

Hands rubbed at your hips, making you nearly jump from his lap, “You don’t like it?”

He knew very well you liked it. He could tell by how much hungrier you were becoming at night. Lucifer now a nearly daily interloper, helping Alastor unravel you under the canopy of his bed.

And it was true. Suddenly having both men showering you in physical affection was creating a new problem entirely.

Alastor’s mouth on your mouth, fingers on your body. Lucifer’s hips snapping against yours, claws gently scratching down your back. You fell asleep satiated and woke up hungry. 

What you didn’t see, brain fogged with the stimulation, was how both men glared at each over of your body.

How when you entered a room they were in, Alastor would use his shadows to reach you before Lucifer could. No, you didn’t notice how suddenly Lucifer was always flagging you down and pulling you away from Alastor to discuss hotel topics. 

You were quite impressed, a week of peaceful days and lustful nights, not a jab or barb to be seen. 

For you, that is. Alastor would spin his mic too quickly, knocking off Lucifer’s hat. At least once his shadow tendrils outright tripped the king of hell as he descended the stairs. Luckily no one of importance was around to witness the brief and only mildly destructive battle that followed. 

Not that Lucifer was an innocent party in any of it. He dropped the lobby chandelier on Alastor. Charlie is convinced there's something wrong with the bolts anchoring it to the ceiling now. 

When he saw Alastor was just behind him to enter a room, he opened his wings, knocking Alastor backward.

Their favorite form of competition though remained you. Who could illicit the deepest moans? Who made your eyes roll back the most? 

Something imperceptible to them, that you were well aware of, was how every night they inched closer and closer. While before you had an expanse of bed to explore between the two, by the end of the week you could barely roll over without brushing against one of them. 

You felt quite accomplished. No brawls (that you witnessed), no overly cruel comments (within your earshot), no power plays (that you could perceive). 

You said as much to them, everyone gathered in the common area around the bar in celebration of the 100th guest to move in. A modest party, most residents weary of being caught in the crosshairs of Alastor’s and Lucifer’s bickering. 

“A toast. To… common ground?” You smirked, happily the thing shared between the two.

“To shared interests.” Alastor offered.

Lucifer, rarely one to drink, eagerly rose his drink, “To my Kitten!”

Alastor’s glass shattered in his fist. “Oops. Husk?” 

It should have been an omen to you. But you laughed it off, a little broken glass wasn’t so bad considering the alternative; them choking each other out on the bedroom floor.

Perhaps the week's events had you too relaxed, quickly finding yourself drunker than you could recall in recent memory. You weren’t alone though. Lucifer’s tongue felt numb in his mouth, the effects of three apple martinis. And while Alastor was a little past tipsy, it was hard to tell with him. He was managing to keep his composure for the sake of one upping Lucifer. 

Angel approached both men, “I don’t know which one of yous is the top in this fucked triangle but y’all okay with me takin’ them to their room? They are wasted.”

Alastor opened his mouth, but Lucifer spoke quicker, “Not at all! Thank you Angie.” 

Alastor’s head whipped around to face Lucifer, “You really love the sound of your own voice, don’t you?”

“Ha! Said the man who broadcasts his across the Pride Ring. Not that anyone listens to that trash.” Lucifer inspected his fingernails, pretending to not care.

“Very funny coming from you. The tacky circus master who can’t even keep hell safe.” A tinge of static broke through. 

Lucifer’s eyes narrowed.

The sound of stations flipping through an AM radio frequency, Alastor’s annoyance clicking through his speech, “Now that I think about it, you can’t keep much of anything at all. Where is your estranged wife, anyway?” 

Horns materialized, breath fiery, “You wanna talk about relationships? You needed to tap me in to satisfy your woman.”

All anyone saw was Alastor grab the lapels of Lucifer’s jacket and yank them half way down his arms before both men descended into a pool of shadow that then disappeared entirely.

Lucifer stumbled back from Alastor, struggling to free his arms in the makeshift restraints Alastor had made. His jacket was folded down to his elbows, too tight to roll off and too far down to slip back up. “Just admit it. She needed me because you can’t meet her needs. Your relationship is incomplete without me!”

Alastor’s hands were on his neck before Lucifer could react. Squeezing, Lucifer gasped, eyes immediately losing focus. 

His tail wound onto Alastor’s thigh, spade tip tapping twice.

Like a dog trained to a dinner bell, Alastor instinctually loosened his grip, his face not hiding his dismay. Lucifer moaned at the lighter pressure.

No, it wasn’t supposed to end up like this. He had other plans for how to dominate over Lucifer.

Shadow tendrils burst from the floor and tossed Lucifer to the bed, arms still trapped on either side of his chest.

“It seems you need some correcting on how well I can satisfy. Quality over quantity, my liege.” He loosened his bowtie. “And a reminder on who pulls the strings. You were allowed into my bed by me.” His hands came to Lucifer’s hips pulling him up onto his lap, back still on the bed as his bottom settled onto Alastor’s crotch. “You were allowed to enjoy my darling’s company by me.” Alastor leaned forward to hover over Lucifer.

The king of hell was flush from a combination of alcohol and shock, eyes glossy and big. His chest heaved slightly with every breath, mouth hanging open. Alastor brought a hand back to his neck, “Everything you cherish with your kitten was granted to you by me.” His hand began to squeeze, Lucifer’s tail returning to twirl around his thigh.

And there it was. Perhaps the most delicious sight Lucifer could offer Alastor; absolute surrender. Eyes closed, Lucifer fought the urge to roll against Alastor with his hips. 

Yes, he hated the radio demon. But, well, hate was so close to passion. And passion could be enthralling. Lucifer had never been choked in a setting that wasn’t literal danger. He imagined for a moment how you felt, how you looked at him when Alastor fucked you while gripping your neck. It looked like it felt good. He wanted to feel it, too. 

But he couldn’t possibly ask. Alastor would laugh and say no. Lucifer wasn’t sure his pride could survive that. 

Alastor had been trying to find ways to soften his approach to Lucifer, knowing very well that if he could endear himself to the devil like he had Charlie he could increase his influence seven fold.

This wasn’t quite what he had in mind. He wasn’t sure what possessed him to toss him to the bed, it was a strange reaction to Lucifer’s insolence and moan. How many had heard the great corruptor moan like a bitch? How many had pinned him down beneath them? His cock was twitching to life in his lap as he stared down at Lucifer.

It was not what he had planned, but it could be just as effective. More so, even. 

Lucifer stared at the back of his eyelids. Alastor stared at Lucifer. Both men made a silent decision.

Alastor’s hand tightened a little more, Lucifer grinding his ass against the other. Replying in kind, the radio demon leaned further over Lucifer, folding the smaller man in half as he ground down into him. 

Lucifer didn’t attempt to stifle his moan, hands flexing where they were stuck, wishing desperately to hold onto Alastor’s arm that was gently increasing pressure still.

Every roll of his hips made Alastor’s breath hitch, the reality of who he was going to fuck into his mattress catching a fire in his veins. 

 Tap tap went his spade tipped tail on the inside of Alastor’s thigh. 

“Open your eyes, your majesty.” Alastor leaned down, nose touching nose.

Lucifer opened one eye first, then the other. His pupils were blown. Alastor pressed his erection down against Luci’s own, making the other man clench his teeth.

“Were you listening?” He asked Luci.

A grin, “No.”

Alastor growled, hands both going to Lucifer’s pants, pulling them and the ducky boxers down to his shoes before peeling everything off and letting them fall to the floor. 

Luci’s cock slapped up against his stomach, leaking already. He glared, hearing the radio demon laugh. 

“You were listening a little, I think.” His hand touched the sticky clear liquid, a strand following his finger as he pulled it back. 

“Are you going to take off my jacket?” Luci wiggled.

“Hmm, no.” 

He threw his head back, blonde hair losing its usual coiffed shape. 

Alastor slotted himself again between Luci’s thighs and began to unbutton the other man’s shirt. “There’s been something on my mind for awhile now.” He said, opening the shirt and revealing his pale chest. “Do you still taste like an angel?” His teeth sank into the shoulder muscle, Luci’s knees coming up and wrapping around his waist. 

Dizzying, the rush of pure angelic blood into his mouth made Alastor weak. Golden liquid, sweet as honey and aromatic like fresh sage, dripped down Luci’s skin. The pain was light, Luci’s body thrusting into the empty space between their bodies. 

“Touch me,” Luci meant to make it a command but it came out more of a plea. 

He briefly considered saying no again, but let his hand wrap around Lucifer’s cock. He didn’t move though, instead letting Luci thrust in and out of his fist.

Alastor was aware how vocal Lucifer was, but he was a little surprised the normally difficult man didn’t even try to hide how good Alastor was making him feel. 

Luci was sighing, body unable to stop itself from pushing up and into the warm hand he had been offered. The tongue lapping at his shoulder, Alastor hungry for him, was making him glow. He always enjoyed feeling wanted, being praised, and no praise was better than seeing Alastor’s demonic deer antlers grow above him.

Another bite, higher up now on his neck. Before, just working his shaft inside Alastor’s hand, he now was dragging the head of his dick inside of the grip. Sticky and wet, Alastor’s fingers providing ridges that bumped over his erection.

His own fingers were gripping the blankets, unable to do much else. 

With a snap and a small puff of smoke, Lucifer took to the task of preparing himself for Alastor with a small bottle of lubricant. Freshly lubed fingers shifting under his body and stretching down to reach his hole. His thrusting slowed, focus now on prodding gently into himself. The other demon hadn’t noticed, attention devoted to lapping up every errand drop of blood.

With his arms restrained he couldn’t reach well, only a knuckle of his middle finger making any headway.

“I can’t reach.” He whined. Alastor perked up, looking at his face and then down between his legs.

“Ah,” he stared, Lucifer’s finger pathetically entering himself an inch or so. “When did you get lube?” Luci didn’t reply. “Hand it here.”

Lucifer looked a little surprised, which insulted Alastor. “I’m not a monster. I fully intended to prepare you.”

When all Luci did was squint, Alastor shrugged, leaning back over and licking at the dripping blood. He felt Luci’s body jump, one of his summoned tentacles now pressing cautiously into him. 

Lucifer helped along the stretching, fingers rubbing the thick lube along the tendril as it pushed in an inch and pulled back a half, in two inches, back one. 

This was progressing much better now. Luci’s hands relaxed back at his sides, eyes closing as he tried to let his muscles go slack. Deep breath in, deeper breath out.

Alastor listened and felt the smaller of the two funnelling all of his energy into easing his hole open. 

“All this effort for little ole me?” He nipped Luci’s skin, no blood, just for fun.

Lucifer hissed, “This has literally nothing to do with you.”

“Funny, feels like it does.” He tightened his hand around Luci’s jumping cock.

“It’s the alcohol.” A blush he could feel radiating off his face spread from ear to ear. His mind kept flashing back to you. Would Alastor make him moan his name like you did? A prayer into the sheets? A twitch. Alastor’s body always seemed to know exactly where to go on yours. With a little practice, could he be brought to pleasured tears too? Luci moaned into Alastor’s shoulder. 

“More,” this time it was a command, and one Aastor was happy to oblige, living shadow pushing deeper into Luci’s body. A groan, long and loud. The burning stretch made his dick weep into Alastor’s hand and onto his stomach. 

Was it enough? Ozzie’s advice echoed in his head, “Better to prepare than tear!” a slogan his branded lubricant proudly declared. 

His hips began moving again, every thrust up into Alastor’s hand met with a down thrust onto the tendril. Alastor’s hot breath over his neck, clawed hand on his member, tendrils deep in his ass. He felt like he was being swallowed whole by the deer demon, and it felt heavenly. Did heaven know such sensations? How could he suggest Alastor has the 8th sin?

Alastor was patient, uncharacteristically some would say, sighing into Luci’s skin as his angelic blood moistened his chin and lips. Why hadn’t he thought of this before? He had been within biting distance for weeks now. If he had done this while they were mingling around and in you, it could have been seen as a part of the sex. He lowered, pulling Luci’s vest and shirt open wider so he could sink his teeth just above his nipple. Luci gasped, another moan following it.

The tail around his leg tightened, slithering up to his still clothed erection.

“Were you going to get naked or just fuck me through your pants?” Luci felt he was ready, hole soft and pliant. 

A hum into his chest, “Was that an option?” 

“Fuck you.”

“That is the topic of discussion, sire.”

Sire

Luci whined, eyes rolling side to side, “Hurry up before I change my mind.”

Alastor laughed, “You’re full of jokes tonight. Actually funny ones for once, too.” With the speed of a man with nowhere to be, Alastor leaned up and settled onto his legs. Belt undone and pulled off. Button, zipper, he sat up to drop his pants and underwear. Luci craned his neck up trying to watch, face still pink.

His hand came out and motioned to Luci to hand it to him. The small bottle of lube rolled from Luci’s fingers and down to Alastor’s knee.

Alastor poured a generous amount onto his manhood, hand pumping it along his shaft and reddening head. Luci’s heart was pounding, arms tugging at the jacket that kept him bound. He considered going full demon and ripping the jacket to pieces. 

But then his eyes darted down, feeling pressure and heat as Alastor was lining himself up.

Alastor met Luci’s eyes, an unspoken, ‘ready?’

“Go ahead, Allie.”

With no cup to shatter, Alastor’s hands pulled Luci’s legs up and open by the ankles and snapped his hips with one motion into the devil’s slick ass.

Luci yelped, eyes watering. “Asshole!” He cried.

“Much better.” Alastor pulled out nearly entirely before thrusting back in. His eyes clenched, even with the prep he found Lucifer to be nearly painfully tight and insufferably hot. He stopped moving for a second, trying to let Lucifer adjust.

Luci was pouting, fingers wiggling. “Release my arms.”

“No.”

He tried to kick Alastor, but the grip on his ankles was too firm. Alastor began to move again, dragging himself out to the head and then thrusting back in. A different sensation than he was used to, but not a new one. 

Lucifer was whining, every thrust back making the king of hell release a pitiful noise. Alastor looked down to the tail on his thigh before picking up his pace. 

He dropped Luci’s legs, hands taking his thighs.

“Slower.” Luci groaned, “Slow down.” Alastor stopped, staring at Lucifer. He brought his foot up and pressed it under Alastor’s chin, “I didn’t say stop.”

Insolence.

Alastor rolled his hips forward, so slow and so slight Lucifer’s own hips began to thrust back onto him. 

“Just do it right for fuck’s sake” Luci was getting annoyed. He wanted to be fucked, not fucked with. Could the two not be separated from each other? 

“You’ve forgotten your manners,” Alastor felt the pull of his body to move, to thrust, to feel that cycle of pleasure let him relax into a simpler mental space. But, well, where was the fun in just chasing physical pleasure? He had the king of hell whimpering in front of him. In that exact moment, he was at the top of the food chain in hell. He wasn’t ready to tumble off that precarious point just yet.

Luci bit his lip, blood dripping down his chin, “Please.”

Alastor bent down to lick the liquid gold from his king’s neck and followed the trail up to Lucifer’s mouth, “Please what?” Taking the opportunity, Lucifer captured Alastor’s mouth with his. At first, Alastor stilled. Sex was one thing, but kissing was an entirely different beast.

But then the blood found it’s way into his mouth, and he pushed his tongue against Luci’s. A fight for dominance like always, both men seeking to feel more than the other. Luci clenched, making himself whine into Alastor. Legs lifting up to wrap around Alastor’s waist, Luci used the other man as an anchor to pull himself on and off Alastor’s too gentle cock. If his arms were free, he’d grip those tall and expressive ears on Alastor’s head.

He found a pace that suited him, refusing to beg. 

How was Lucifer still managing to take control? Even bound and receiving, he was the one in charge. Alastor had to tear his body from the sweet taste of Luci’s kiss and reclaim the lead, cock more deeply entering Luci now.

Luci didn’t need deep, he just needed to feel that pressure and pull at his still tight ring of muscle, g-spot not far past his entrance. He knew exactly what he needed and felt allowing Alastor to do anything else was just a waste of time.

But you never seemed to fight or argue. You just relaxed under Alastor. If you were there, you’d stroke Luci’s hair and tell him how pretty he looked on his back.

He decided to stop trying to get the best of Alastor, and let Alastor show him exactly what he promised; how well he could satisfy.

Legs hooked, Luci let his body be rocked on the bed with Alastor’s direction. It’d been so long since he felt so full. 

Alastor felt Lucifer relax, soften. He heard his breath start to become heavy and loud. Looking between them, he watched the other’s dick grow harder still. 

“Good boy,” he offered. Luci whimpered, twitching around Alastor. Oh, of course. A praise kink. Alastor managed to stop the laugh bubbling in his chest, willing to meet Luci somewhat halfway. 

Could he praise the man he was hoping to choke to death not that long ago?

A test, dipping his toes into the water. “You look divine with your legs open, your majesty.” 

Luci moaned, erection hopping up.

“And you sound delicious,” Alastor let a hand run down Luci’s chest, small beads of yellow blood forming in the wake of his claws. A hiss, Lucifer’s stomach muscles tightened from the combination of sweet words and painful scratch.

 Alastor began to pick up his pace, resting his weight on his hands at either side of Luci’s head to angle himself. He adjusted his hips slightly until Lucifer jumped, eyes rolling back.

Mounting pleasure brought sweat to Luci’s brow, his sounds becoming harsher, raspier. “I’m close, I need your hand.”

Alastor tutted, “You don’t need anything.”

Tears streaked Luci’s cheek, “Are you fucking serious? Do you- ungh,” a moan, a swear, “Fuck. I’ll beg.”

The deer demon, tall and imposing over Lucifer, wanted nothing more than to make the King beg. “No begging yet. You don’t need anything else to orgasm than what I’m giving you now”

A slight panic, Luci crying at what he was sure was just another act of cruelty. But as Alastor moved in him, swollen head rutting against his prostate, he felt his orgasm building to an unstoppable place. Alastor was mindful, only entering enough to keep Luci going.

Claws gripped the blankets, Luci’s hips instinctively thrusting into the air, he fought the urge to hold his breath. “Say it,” fast and low.

Alastor cocked his head, not sure what Luci was asking for. A deep blush took over the entirety of his pale face, “Tell me I can— nngh,” 

“Ah,” Alastor giggled, “Cum, Lucifer.”

Alastor slowed his hips, a moan escaping as Luci’s balls and asshole tightened and trembled.

Luci came over his stomach and chest, waves of pleasure racking his body. 

It was a sight Alastor was admiring; sweaty and bloody and shaking. It looked like Lucifer was melting. His smile widened, eyes darkening as he picked up his thrusts.

“W-wait,” Lucifer’s legs tightened around Alastor.

Alastor dropped to his elbows, chasing his own high now. Eyes open and flitting around the image beneath him. Flush cheeks, sweaty skin, Lucifer was panting and moaning. No double tap yet.

“You sound like a bitch in heat, your majesty.”

Lucifer’s face screwed up, body overstimulated and sensitive.

“Now, you can beg.” Alastor sat back up, pulling Lucifer’s ass into his lap and thrusting up, dick buried to the hilt as he let Luci’s soft walls massage at his member.

Luci’s hands tensed, looking up his body to where they both connected, Alastor’s cock bulging his lower stomach, “For what?”

“For me.”

Alastor’s face was covered by shadow, eyes glowing red down at Lucifer. Tears still drying, eyes watery, Lucifer shook, “Please,” he felt embarrassed, somehow even more naked than nude. Alastor was still nearly fully dressed, a fact Luci’s mind was just registering. “Please cum, Alastor.”

His head fell forward, eyes wide and smile shaking. The King of Hell, the greatest of the sins, was begging for Alastor to dirty him. Alastor had done it, euphoria flooded his brain. His nails cut into the soft flesh of Luci’s ass as he pounded into the smaller demon.

Lucifer was gasping and grunting, softening cock rolling around in his own seed. He just wanted Alastor to cum and let his body rest, “Cum already, please cum inside me. Please, Plea—,” Luci was being used as a toy, just a cock sleeve for Alastor and he liked it.

He felt Alastor’s cock grow inside him before his hips slammed into him once, twice, three times then bury himself as deeply as he could. Luci felt the warmth spreading in spurts, Alastor still rocking slightly without withdrawing any. He couldn’t see the other demon’s face, red and black hair shrouding the expression Luci so desperately wanted to watch.

Lucifer’s body went limp, Alastor pulling out already half soft and sitting back on his legs. 

Pitiful. Soft and leaking, if Lucifer was a king Alastor felt like a God.

Finally, Alastor felt like he’d bested Lucifer, truly topping the most powerful demon in his own domain.

Meanwhile, Lucifer didn’t care. He felt closer to you, feeling Alastor’s cum drip out was a shared experience. He wanted to see you, to nuzzle into your neck. The only way to enhance his afterglow was to have it reflected off your smile. 

Alastor was undoing his shirt when the door creaked open. 

“So did you get the venom out of your system or…?” You slurred, “My bed is too empty. Can’t sleep.” 

Alastor’s head near snapped with how quickly he turned, Luci propping up on his elbows and leaning around Alastor to stare wide eyed.

Alastor considered launching himself directly into the sun. Lucifer wondered if he opened his wings fast enough if he could launch Alastor directly into the sun.

“They uh—- tried to cuddle but I didn’t wanna die so I brought them here… maybe— maybe a worse idea.” Angel was slowly closing the door. “You should really lock these doors.”

Unholy fire singed Angels face before shadows slammed the door shut with such forced the walls shook.

You curled up beside Lucifer, nuzzling into his neck, “Pretty baby Luci. You’re like a fancy little bird.” In your foggy state of consciousness, you were immensely proud of how the two had taken your request so seriously. 

Alastor’s hand came to cover his face, watching through his fingers as Lucifer looked lovingly at you, who was already half asleep.

“Under the covers, dear,” he gestured at you, “You, shower.”

Lucifer nodded and began wiggling down the bed so he could stand, you rolled until you hit pillows. You both in unison sighing, “Clean sheets.”

༻Masterlist༺

∰ Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult (general tag list):

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @wettiny-in-smutland , @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog , @coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum ,

@ivebeenthearchersstuffn, @rubyninja1 , @simphornies , @alleystore , @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog , @thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies , @howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , @ive-no-idea-what-to-call-this , @fizzled-phoenix , @fjorjestertealeaf , @phobophobular , @surusurusuru , @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 , @whateverlololo , @simplyonehellofanotaku , @xixflower , @i-am-nonbinary-bean-deal-with-it , @roxxie-wolf , @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 , @watereddownmilk , @raynerrold , @crazii-saber-wolf , @valkyrie-expeditions , @bontensbabygirl , @sillyb0nez , @oo0lady-mad0oo , @jazzmasternot , @pseudobun , @fraugwinska✨, @alitaar , @straows , @alastorssimp , @angelicwillows

🏹Alastor stalkers: @celestial-vomit , @amurtan ,@valkyrie-expeditions

[flowerandblood]

The Fall from the Heavens

[ canon • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]

[ warnings: kissing, angst, arranged engagement, violence, swearing, humiliation, bullying, chauvinism ]

[ description: A cool distance turns into friendship and more when two children see that they can find refuge and understanding in each other. However, naïve dreams collide with the reality in which every event has consequences and what once could have been love becomes a dark, newly painful obsession. Angst, sexual tension, obsession, violence, madness, very dark Aemond. ]

The story in this series is an alternate reality from the oneshot Stay and love, leave and die, in which Aemond reads the letters his niece has sent to him over the years. They are the same characters and it shows what would have happened between them − I have changed the background story from their childhood slightly for the sake of the plot.

Characters & Series Moodboard Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Childhood

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

He had always felt that he lacked something. Part of him claimed that if a dragon had hatched from his egg, things would have been different, however, years later, he recognised that this was not entirely true.

Aegon had a gift for light-hearted conversation, an ironic humour that he lacked. He kept telling him to smile at last, to get his nose out of his books, that he was boring, perpetually serious and withdrawn. He preferred to spend time with Jace and Luke − they were louder and funnier than him, they understood him, they had what he was missing.

They had dragons.

They didn't spare unpleasant comments even to their own sister, calling her a hamster, most likely referring to her rosy, firm cheeks and big eyes.

He could see that she was running away from them crying, but he wasn't going to comfort her. She was a girl – her world, filled with poetry, embroidery and music seemed to him as distant as Essos.

The only thing they had in common was books.

They bumped into each other occasionally in the library, and although at first they simply pretended not to see one another, one day she dared to sit next to him as he looked through the family tree of their ancestors.

"What is it?" She asked, placing the large volume on the table in front of them with difficulty.

He huffed as the dust that rose with her movement reached his nostrils, out of the corner of his eye he noticed that it was The Great History of Aegon the Conqueror.

He did not reply, turning the page of the book, not knowing why he should explain it to her.

He didn't believe her, didn't trust her, didn't want her.

She was a bastard, though she probably didn't know it herself, wallowing in riches like a princess even though she didn't deserve them.

He didn't want her pity, attention or anything else she could give him.

He didn't want to be her second choice, the place she ran to because her brothers were mean to her; he had his own, in his mind very adult, worries and he didn't want to listen to hers.

"Is this a book dedicated to our family history?" She asked softly, leaning out so that she could see what he was reading.

She stood up, coming closer to him, intrigued. He pressed his lips together when he smelled her pleasant scent, some intense vanilla oil.

He felt a tightening and burbling in his stomach at the thought of the cake that smelled similar, which his mother had ordered to be baked for his Name Day a few months earlier.

"Ah, our family tree. Where are we?" She asked cheerfully, and he sighed heavily, reluctantly flipping forward a few pages, tracing their line with his finger, showing her a place at the very end.

He swallowed loudly as he saw how Laenor Velaryon was written in the space where her father was inscribed, trying not to smile with mockery.

She leaned lower, looking at the area he had pointed at and he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, her cheek right next to his.

He was surprised at how different they were, apart from the obvious fact that he was a man and she was a woman.

His eyelashes were almost white and translucent and hers were black, long, surrounding her shining eyes, making them seem even bigger to him. His skin was pale, thin as parchment when hers was flushed and full of life, her lips plump and moist, her nose shapely and straight, the contour of her face gentle as his jaw was outlined sharply.

And finally, his hair, the colour of Targaryen's, the white she lacked, her luscious black curls falling gently down her back was visible proof of who her father was.

Although he liked to mock her in spirit, he couldn't say she was ugly or repulsive.

"Would you marry Helaena if our King so commanded?" She asked curiously, glancing sideways at his seated figure. He lifted his gaze to her and sighed heavily, figuring that nothing would happen if he spoke to her for a while.

She was simply bored, just like him, and he didn't get the impression that she had come to entertain herself at his expense.

He shrugged his shoulders.

"Yes. I would do my duty as a Prince and son of the King." He said lowly, solemnly, fiddling between his fingers with the page of the book he had just looked at, crossing his legs.

Even though he was still a child, he was trying to sound and look like a man.

She cocked her head, clearly genuinely intrigued by his statement, a wide smile on her face.

"Are you in love with her?" She asked as if it was obvious, as if she was encouraging him to reveal to her his little secret. He looked at her in disbelief, not knowing what to make of her question.

He swallowed loudly, lowering his gaze, feeling his heart pounding fast.

What did it matter?

"Well…she's my sister. Of course I love her." He replied coolly, feeling strange with the words on his tongue, as if there was something inappropriate about them.

"I love Jace too, but I'm not in love with him. There's a difference." She said with a kind of calmness and wisdom that surprised him, looking at him with a gentle expression on her face that consternated him.

Why were they even having this conversation?

Still, her words made him feel a tightness in his throat, a realisation that he understood what she meant, but didn't want to admit it.

The tenderness of falling in love, the poems and the late-night frolicking were the domain of women's imagination, which unfortunately then had to collide with the cruel reality. He was a man, however, and he had no intention of getting into these deep divagations of the weaker sex.

"Don't be naïve. Marriage is not meant to be a pleasure. It is meant to be a sacrifice for the good of the kingdom, to secure its needs." He said dryly, turning back to the page he had been reading earlier, frustrated for some reason by her remark.

She did not speak again, returning to her seat, sinking into reading the gigantic volume dedicated to Aegon the Conqueror.

Although he could have done it in his chamber, he had been coming to the library to read ever since and always met her in the same place. Although they didn't appoint themselves, they both had their assignments until midday and would turn up there to read immediately afterwards, sitting next to each other, exchanging thoughts in passing.

He was afraid that Aegon would see them one day, but fortunately he never ventured into the abyss of the library, few people went there and he felt reasonably safe.

Usually it was she who asked him questions and he was the one who answered her. He felt some sort of empowerment because of this – at last there was someone who appreciated his knowledge and rhetoric, who listened intently to his opinion.

"I would like to be like Rhaenys in the future." She said softly and he looked at her as if she had lost her mind.

"Rhaenys? What's interesting about her? Visenya could fight with a sword and she rode the largest dragon still alive in this world. If I had a choice, I would marry her." He said without thinking, recognising that it would be wonderful to have by his side a woman who could wield a sword perfectly, with a sharp tongue and temperament, who would be a born warrior like him.

He saw his niece raise an eyebrow in amusement, a sort of childlike joy on her face, her eyes shining.

"Aegon the Conqueror thought otherwise. Out of ten nights, nine he spent with Rhaenys." She said mockingly, as if immensely pleased that she could take the argument out of his hand. He pressed his lips together at her remark and shrugged his shoulders, returning to his reading.

He didn't care what men and women did at night − his mother had told him that he shouldn't bother with it for the time being, and he had decided that there was in fact no need to, until his father called on him one morning.

"− no −" He heard his mother's voice, leaning over the table where the tired King sat, looking at her as if half asleep. "− I do not agree, Viserys, it's not −"

She did not finish, hearing his footsteps and folded her arms in front of her, trying to calm herself, letting out a loud breath. His father nodded at him to come closer, which he did obediently, feeling his heart pounding hard.

His father had never yet called on him on any serious matter.

"I have just been discussing with your mother the importance of our family, of our kingdom remaining united. Although I have agreed that, according to tradition, your sister should marry your brother and not your nephew, I would like you to be the one to bring House Targaryen together anew, and that you should marry the daughter of Rhaenyra and Laenor in the future." He said calmly, with each finished sentence tapping his fingers on the table top, as if to add some finality and certainty to his words that he was convinced this was the right thing to do.

"− this is ridiculous − Aemond should secure our kingdom with a marriage to the daughter of one of the lords who can benefit us −" His mother began impatiently, her husband sighed loudly, exhausted.

"And who should receive this honour? The Starks? The Arryns? The Baratheons? No choice would be good, for someone would always feel disadvantaged. Marriage within the family will not outrage anyone on the outside, and will only strengthen what has been strained." He said with conviction; the Queen swallowed hard, shaking her head, finally looking at him as if she was certain he abhorred the idea as much as she did.

"− Aemond, you don't have to agree −" She said in a trembling voice, and he swallowed hard, looking at the stone floor beneath his feet, feeling his heart pounding hard.

Bastard or not, the dragon's blood flowed in her, as it did in him. She didn't despise or mistreat him. She knew what duty and obligation meant.

He reasoned that although he would have preferred to have a female warrior by his side, in fact the idea of marrying her did not reject him. He preferred her to the daughter of some common lord.

In his own way, he even liked her.

He grunted, feeling proud to rise to the occasion and fulfil his father's desire.

"If it is my King's wish, I will marry her, for the sake of the kingdom and our family." He said lowly, looking him straight in the eyes, standing upright, his hands folded behind his back.

He felt a squeeze in his throat as his father smiled at him sincerely, for the first and last time in his life.

"So it's decided."

He didn't know how the message had been conveyed to his betrothed, however he could see by the look on her face as she ran into the library, all red with emotion, that someone had made her aware of what had happened and he felt a twist in his stomach at the thought.

He was afraid she would make it clear to him that she didn't want him, that she abhorred him, that she had no intention of marrying a man who didn't have a dragon of his own.

As she approached him however her eyes sparkled, she laughed as if she didn't believe it.

"Is it true?" She asked breathing loudly and he swallowed hard, nodding his head, looking at her with wide eyes.

"I'm so happy." She giggled sweetly, warmly, covering her mouth with her hand, as if someone had just given her a wonderful surprise.

He felt some kind of heat in his chest, an affection towards her, a gratitude for her faithfulness, for her devotion, for the fact that she respected him.

He was shocked to think that she would make a good wife.

Aegon laughed at him, not understanding where his lack of objection came from, how he could think that good had happened.

"She doesn't even have an arse or tits." He sneered and he clenched his jaw, wrinkling his brow, looking at him over his shoulder.

"Shut your mouth. Don't speak about her this way." He growled, feeling that her good name was now his as well, and that he had to protect her.

Aegon snorted, shaking his head, patting him on the back piteously.

"My little brother fell in love with Lady Strong?" He asked, forcing himself into a sweet, mocking tone as if he were speaking to a small child, which angered him even more. He slammed his head against his forehead, and he swore in pain, staggering backwards, catching the table, which fell over with him.

"You fucking bastard!" He shouted throwing himself at him, and they began to pound each other with their fists, wrestling with each other on the floor, until, hearing the commotion, a servant girl rushed into his chamber, trying to separate them.

His future wife visited him in his chamber that day, concerned that he had not appeared in the library, raising her eyebrows in simultaneous concern and amusement as she saw him holding an ice cube to his red cheek, a large bruise under his eye.

"What's happened?" She asked as she was accustomed to, without any pleasantries, approaching him sitting in a chair that was, however, too big and his legs did not reach the ground. He just rolled his eyes and shrugged his shoulders without answering.

He had no intention of revealing what had caused the fight − he wasn't going to appear to her as a prince on a white horse who would worship and adore her, as in all those poems she had surely read.

"Does it hurt a lot?" She asked further, and he shook his head. She sighed heavily, taking a single lemon cake from the pocket of her bottom gown, placing it in front of him.

"I know the Queen only allows you to eat sweets after your weekly visit to the Great Sept, but I stole one for you anyway. As a consolation." She said proudly, and he nodded, lifting his gaze to her, involuntarily feeling grateful.

She cared for him without wanting anything in return.

Since they were betrothed, she hadn't asked him for solitary walks, gifts, confessions of love or anything else a lady of her status might desire from the man she was to marry.

"Thank you." He replied calmly, recognising that he could give her at least that much.

She looked around his chamber and he realised that she was in it for the first time in her life. He stood up, setting the ice sack down in the bowl, walking over to his bookshelf, a gift to him from his mother.

"If you wish, I can lend you some. Just pick which one." He said softly, coming to the conclusion that he wanted to be kind to her, that he wanted her to have no regrets about him becoming her husband, to be proud of it.

She looked at him gratefully and took out a book written by the ancient philosopher, Areon, dissecting human dignity and duty. Something about her choice pleased him, the thought that she wanted to understand him.

She pressed the book to her heart and looked at him, her eyes seemed even bigger to him than usual, her beautiful long eyelashes, hair and plump lips shone in the summer light of the day.

He felt a pleasant tickle in his lower abdomen watching her without saying a word.

"– can I kiss you? –" She asked so quietly that for a moment he thought he had overheard himself. He felt his whole body tense up as his pupils dilate in disbelief, his fingers involuntarily began to rub against each other in a subconscious nervous reflex.

Oh gods.

Should they be doing this?

Was this the right thing to do?

She was supposed to be his wife. From what he understood, husbands and wives did this, as a kind of union and intimacy.

He swallowed loudly, looking at her lips, thinking they looked pleasantly warm and soft; a shiver went through him at the thought that he could feel them in a moment if he wanted to.

He nodded his head.

He watched her vigilantly, involuntarily breathing through his mouth as she stepped closer to him; he was taller than her and leaned in slightly, wanting to make her task easier.

She surprised him when she suddenly lifted up on her tiptoes and her lips pressed against his in a warm, innocent kiss − he felt like his heart had stopped for a moment, the scent of vanilla filled his lungs, her skin delightfully moist and soft.

It felt so pleasant.

She pulled away from him immediately, all red as he was, breathing hard, as if it took a lot of effort and courage from her too, her wide eyes looked at him in excitement, as if she was waiting for his reaction.

"– one more time –"

These words came out of him like a weak whisper, like a plea through which he felt the shame overpowering him.

She smiled before rising on her toes again, this time placing her hand on his shoulders for balance − she pressed her fleshy, moist lips to his for a longer time and sighed softly as he touched her cheek, wonderfully soft and warm.

She pulled away from him with a quiet click and closed her eyes feeling him stroke her skin with his thumb. He pressed his forehead against hers, feeling butterflies in his stomach.

"– will you come to me at night? –"

He had nightmares most of the time at night − usually dreams in which he saw anew the pig that his brother and nephews had introduced to him as his dragon, humiliating him as no one had ever done before.

He found that her presence calmed him and that perhaps if she slept in the same bed, he would finally get some rest.

He didn't think about the fact that it might have been at least inappropriate in the eyes of others when under the cover of night she snuck into his chamber, slipping under the thick furs beside him, snuggling up to him. In his mind she was already his wife, and wives slept with their husbands − unless it was his parents.

They lay that night looking at each other with their foreheads pressed together, stroking each other's cheeks, shy and embarrassed.

Their wordless, innocent confession of affection and need for closeness.

"We are going to have seven children." He stated after some thought, as if he had decided that such a number would satisfy him. He wanted his family to be strong and broad, and also seven were gods, so it had symbolic meaning as well.

She blinked, as if something troubled her in his words, furrowing her brow.

"My mother gets very tired during childbirth and then can't get up for a few days. With the rest, how do we do it?" She asked uncertainly and he shrugged his shoulders.

He had never delved into the ins and outs of the pleasures of the flesh too much − Aegon had said that rapprochements with women were very pleasurable and, as he understood, that was why he couldn't pull away from them, to him, however, what he had was enough.

"We'll find out everything when we're older. Do not fret." He said with certainty, stroking her soft, plump cheek with his thumb. She cheered up, he saw the sparkle in her gaze before her lips stole a soft, warm kiss from him again.

He smiled at the thought that he felt that in her eyes he was a man, the head of their future family.

There had been times when he had forgotten who she was, who her father was, her smile, her laugh, her eyes, the sweet kisses she bestowed on him when they were alone made him think it didn't matter anymore.

Years later, he could not believe how wrong he was.

______

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes

[actually-safer-to-kiss]

See How It Shines

Summary: Spencer gets home from work to find Reader in tears over the new Hozier album.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Fluff and comfort

Content warnings: The masterpiece of Hozier’s Unreal Unearth, me stopping halfway to listen to the entire album, me crying to every song I reference

Word count: 1.2k

A/N: shoutout to anyone who picks up on every song reference I make. I am instantly in love with you.

Spencer had been etched with the weight of unsolved cases and the relentless march of time, and he was forced to call it a night around six. The team had already pulled an all-nighter earlier in the week, so Hotch decided they all deserved rest. Spencer, however, wasn’t tired (he was; it was the late cups of coffee). Nevertheless, he makes it to his apartment door, skipping every other step. As Spencer turned the key in the lock, a soft melody flowed from the other side, haunting him yet drawing him in.

When the door opens with a slight creak, the music only grows. The living room was a sanctuary, bathed in the golden hues of twilight and table lamps, together casting long, ethereal shadows across the aged wooden floor. Plants adorned the walls and shelves. Since you moved in, he has never shared a space with so many simple living things.  His record player, a testament to decades of shared music between him and his mother, spun its vinyl tale. This time it was for you, as it breathed life into the album as you sat on the couch in a nest of blankets.

Ah yes, it was Hozier day. The anticipated album release of Unreal Unearth. His girlfriend highly anticipated it. She had been vibrating as the week drew to a close with five days left, then three, then one. And it was well worth the wait, considering the tears continuing to streak her face as the Irish man begged for someone to not fall away from him.

Spencer set his bag down by the door and proceeded toward the couch with caution as if he were ready to pounce like a predator on prey. Except the end resulted in a tender hand on your shoulder. You looked up at him with a puffy face and snotty nose. It was Spencer’s next instinct to grab a tissue from the end table and offer it to you. Of course, you took it. And even though the answer was obvious, he still felt the need to ask, “Are you okay?”

It was a struggle for you to inhale, so you blew your nose again. "I didn’t expect this to be a breakup album.” The album sleeve was wrapped in your arms, proving to already be a prized possession. The tracklist was organized by the layers of Dante’s hell they fell under.

Spencer gave you a small smirk before placing a kiss on your head. “Well, I’ll go ahead and get started on dinner.” It was his turn to take the culinary reins for tonight. “Do you need anything?”

“I need to know who this woman is, Spencer.” You throw your head back as Hozier hits a high note that neither of you has heard from him before. You stay there as you ask, “Who made this man feel so much pain?”

“You want to fight Hozier’s ex-girlfriend?”

“Ew, no.” Your nose scrunched. “I just want to know how. The power to make a man feel this way.”

Spencer chuckled. He had answers. And he’s happy to not reply with any of them. “I’m making chicken parmesan. That okay?”

You nodded, soon returning to singing about holding a heart like a steering wheel. But you then grabbed his hand. Your eyes are red, and Spencer is sure you’ll need drops before the end of the night. “Did a part of you die the first time I called you ‘baby,’ Spencer?”

Spencer couldn’t help but smirk as he quirked a brow. “Do what?”

“They’re song lyrics.” You let go of him.

Spencer has never fully understood the uproar that comes with Hozier. Then again, no one really flocks to Beethoven and Chopin like they used to. Plus, Vivaldi wasn’t known for belting out in the middle of his pieces and Spencer can at least admit Hozier’s belts ( well, the ones he’s heard so far) tug at him by the chest. He came back to his senses quickly when his mismatched socks landed on the cold tile. He washed his hands and opened the fridge door with his good knee.

Songs of water and knives reminded him he had chicken to wash and cut. And the familiar feeling in his own kitchen gets the tasks in Spencer’s head in order. He could feel the weight of his week slowly lift, replaced by Spencer attempting to chop to the song. It was inefficient. Some songs play shockingly fast for a breakup album. He settled for a more percussion style of noise, making each slice more deliberate as a testament to his meticulousness.

The flour and breadcrumbs sizzled in the oil that mingled with the sight of you matching the pitch of the song and humming where Hozier shouted, caressing the album sleeve like it was alive and needed your warmth. The weight of the lyrics settling in your bones caused your head to fall in shock as a long, high note carried through the whole apartment.

The album played on, weaving tales of love and loss, each one successfully targeting your core and striking effectively. And when Spencer got into the groove of his own routine in the kitchen, he listened to the lyrics as they almost guided him to autopilot, reminding him of the joys that come with his leg around you in bed, ensuring you don’t move anywhere except closer to him. And how the idea of losing that is something he does not care to dwell on for long.

He could keep it together, he thought.

Until his voice soars about the glistening of an animal’s eyes. About the force of love for someone recklessly in the middle of the street. Spencer couldn’t help but feel a lump forming in his throat. It was a visceral reaction—Spencer's sniffle. But it wasn’t unheard.

You turned your gaze toward Spencer, your eyes soft with understanding. You could hear the emotion in his breath and the slight catch in his throat. “Spencer?” You asked.

“I’m fine.”

Your lower lip quivers with a puffy smile. “You’re crying.”

“No, I’m chopping. Chopping while completely fine.” His sniffles continued to give him away (sanitary stations over pride every time).

You couldn’t help but find the situation adorable. You lazily got up from the couch, letting one of the blankets slide off with you, dragging along behind you across the wood floor and then the tile. You carefully put your hands around his waist because safety comes first. You squeeze him, and he laughs a little. For a moment, he puts his left hand on your arm, keeping it there. You noticed how his fingertips were colder than expected as you looked at the cutting board from under his arm. “So basil makes you cry? Is that it?”

Spencer laughs again, diverting his gaze from the record player and clearing his eyes from unshed tears. “Today, it apparently does. There must be some emotional properties I didn’t consider.”

“Nothing to do with an Irish man singing his heart out?”

Spencer rubs his nose on his sleeve. Fuck sanitation right now; he’s about to go through it. The snot is evident. See how it shines, indeed. “Is he really singing about roadkill?”

“Yep.” You sniffle in return as you lay your head on his back.

“Fuck.”

“I know.”

“How does he do it?”

“That I don’t know.” You held Spencer as he let the music hit him. Taking moments to turn from the food to wipe his tears.

[spicyllewyn]

Roleplaying with them.

(NSFW) Headcanons. - Moon system x reader. (+18)

Marc.

You had been feeling observed for about 15 minutes during your walk.

You were heading back home, as usual, too late for your own safety.

Nothing had happened to you so far, so what could you lose?

It wasn't until the whitish glow behind you appeared, combined with the shadow from the ground, that your attention finally turned to your back.

A few days ago, you had seen more than one moon painted on the streets.

You weren't surprised to come across him.

"How long have you been there?" He didn't speak, just shrugged.

"I can see my house from here, your job is done."

When you turned around, you heard him clear his throat. "Don't people thank superheroes more?"

He was no longer wearing the mask. His tousled curls fell over his forehead, and the tight ceremonial suit of Khonshu allowed you to see every detail on his body.

"I thought they did it only out of love for their fellow beings."

Another step, and you felt your breath catch in your chest.

"Does anyone do things for free nowadays?"

He was right. And by the way his eyes wandered over your body, you didn't need to think much to guess what he was referring to.

His gaze was scorching you and you wanted to kiss his jaw until your lips hurt.

And you gave in, because who else was there to thank the masked vigilante who protected the nighttime travelers?

One step closer.

You were still in the middle of the deserted street, in plain sight of anyone who decided to take a nighttime stroll.

You didn't care much, not even when the cold concrete of the sidewalk made your knees ache.

His suit vanished in front of you, your eyes locked onto the pair of dark jeans that now filled your entire field of vision.

You licked on the fabric when you realized that he was already hard under his clothing.

And although the cold did not cause anything in him, your tongue did make him tremble.

A little more of force and you would have yanked the button off his jeans.

You were both clumsy, desperate.

Before you could object, the tip of his cock was pushing against your throat.

"Just like that, sweetie." And just when you thought her voice couldn't get any deeper.

Turns out, the terrifying Moon Knight was also a fan of encouraging his partners during sex.

He kept complimenting you, reminding you how well you were doing.

Although his moans spoke for him.

He had no compassion for you, when his hands were placed in your hair you knew you were no longer in control.

He rammed into your mouth with the brutality with which you had saw him punch people before.

You could only hear the gurgling of your saliva every time it slid down your tongue.

And your eyes filled up with tears as your nose bumped against the veil of his abdomen, you could feel him push you further.

Until you ran out of oxygen.

With two touches on his thigh he understood what you needed, finally letting go.

Your hand had to take care of the job, your saliva made it easier to stroke his already sensitive cock.

He looked at you, and you looked back at him.

"Thanks for taking care of me." Your smile was mocking, and Marc could only think about how cute your little face looked destroyed by him.

A chill ran through him from head to toe as the heat in his abdomen began to rise.

He was so close. "Just like that. Don't stop, -ah, fuck, please." His pleas confirmed the obvious to you.

You stuck out your tongue for him, and the mere image was too much for him.

It was obscene, he could see in you how much you wanted to swallow every drop he had to give you.

He came on your tongue. Actually, he came on your whole face.

And you squeezed anything that was left on him with your hand.

“Shit, I love you.” He said with a breathy, broken voice.

“Marc, don't get out of character!”

Steven.

"Sorry for the hour! Are there still tours available?" "Oh, Gods. You are just in time for the last one! But I'm afraid it will be just you and me, we're about to close."

At least this way you could ask anything that crossed your mind.

Steven was… dreamy.

You weren't the biggest fan of museums, but the guy was really doing his job for society.

You probably learned more there than in months of history classes.

And he made it so… enjoyable. So easy to understand, so much fun.

His eyes were shining as he spoke, and the 2-hour tour felt like 15 minutes.

"This is the least visited part of the museum." "Why?" "Many people are afraid of the ocean."

Both of you whispered, squinting your eyes to gaze at each other in the middle of the dark room.

A soft blue light gave the perfect tone to Steven's face as he looked at the exhibits as if it were the first time.

You leaned in to read the plaque in front of a representation of a shark skeleton.

And within seconds, a body positioned itself behind you. His chest against your back, one of his arms slid under yours, and he made you raise your hand.

His fingers guided yours to touch the fake skeleton.

"They don't have bones, you know?" A breathy moan escaped from his mouth when you pushed yourself towards him. "Oh no?" You played dumb. "It's, ah… gristle."

You tortured him by continuing to see the figure for extra seconds.

And when you turned around, Steven was on his knees

You smiled.

“I think it's my favorite room.” And in one jump you climbed onto a kind of high step that supported some other figures.

As if his lips had a magnet towards you, he began to kiss between your thighs.

Because of course, the first thing you did was spread your legs for him.

He kissed on top of the fabric until he got desperate.

You never thought that the shy museum guide in the baggy clothes would have the strength to pull your skinny jeans down in one fell swoop.

You've been wanting to mess up those soft curls ever since you laid eyes on him.

Right now, with his tongue working on you, it was the perfect opportunity.

"Oh shit." Your voice echoed through the empty room as you pushed him harder between your legs.

Steven refused to pull away for air, and you happily kept him between your legs.

He looked like a hungry man, you could feel his saliva running between your legs.

"Y-You do an amazing job." “Well, I always wanted to be a museum guide.” oh so innocent

"Steven!" It resounded so loudly in the room that you feared someone would discover you.

But not enough to shut you up.

It goes without saying that you finished sooner than expected, the adrenaline rush of being caught was always a fetish for you.

And when you looked down, you almost fainted.

His huge chocolate brown eyes were staring at you, barely parted enough for you to see his glossy lips full of you.

He had the expression of someone about to get into some mischief.

"No." "Yeah." "Steven, no." “How are you going to rate my good work in the suggestion and complaint box if I don't please you?”

Before you protested, his mouth was on you again.

2 orgasms were not enough for him.

Not even with 3, you lost count after 4, and he only stopped when your legs threatened to no longer support your weight.

You trembled, your vision was blurred and you couldn't bear the suffocating heat that you were feeling on your face.

“Did you like the tour?” He asked innocently as he adjusted your pants and finally faced you.

His face full of saliva and your fluids.

"You're awful at roleplay." "I know." He kissed you and you cleaned his mouth area with your tongue.

He looked at you with more wonder than at his favorite pieces in the museum.

"Let me take you to dinner, okay?"

Jake.

The honking of a car made you rush out of your house.

Your furrowed brow and your lips forming a pout gave you away as you got into the taxi.

Apparently, you were having a terrible day. You didn't even greet the driver as you got in.

"Bad day?" His accent did catch your attention. "Bad life." You replied with a nostalgic smile.

You could feel him looking at you constantly in the rearview mirror.

"Who would allow a beauty like you to get into a stranger's car at this hour?" "My fiancé is an idiot."

You made him scoff.

"I bet I can make you forget about him in seconds." "Seconds is quite ambitious."

He winked at you.

And you felt butterflies in your stomach.

The teasing way you turned your back on him made Jake accept the challenge.

Only God knows where he parked the car; you had never been in this part of the city before.

Him talking about seconds wasn't him being ambitious.

It was him being realistic.

Because before you could react you had the words stuck in your throat because his cock was deeply buried in you.

You were turning your back on him once again, this time by his choice.

You swore you could hear the screeching of the car with every movement of his hip.

"Does he fuck you like this, cariño?" He growled in your ear.

His questions made you dizzy, his thick accent and his hot breath hitting your ear.

"I bet he's never made you moan like that before." “Aw, look at you, honey. All cock-drunk and whiney.” "Pídeme más, amor, pídeme que te destroce."

You were staining the leather seat with saliva.

And Jake would pull on your hair to try and lift your face up a bit.

He didn't want you to keep quieting your whining like that, you knew it.

"More." It came out broken from your lips.

And he complied.

You could never think of another man like that, although to be fair, you didn't mean to.

“That fucking death-grip.” And while Jake seemed in control, he wasn't immune to your tricks, your way of taking the bull by the horns. “Amor, no, please, no… You are going to…”

He came inside of you.

And you shivered, keeping him inside.

"Look at that, cielo." After a few seconds, he pulled out, staring. “Do you think he will take you back now that I marked you as mine like this?”

And you made him laugh by cursing him out loud.

"Amor?" "Uh?" "You're going to clean that up." He poked you on the nose. Your cheek felt wet against the seat, your saliva making you groan.

[ohdeerfully]

Hi! Can I request Alastor x NonBinary!Reader? Like how would he react/learn about it?

hii sure thing! heres some headcanons! i struggled to write a decent bit because i honestly dont think he would care (or understand) at all, but i hope you like 'em!

Alastor x Nonbinary!Reader

Alastor x Reader (headcanons)

TW: brief mention of transphobia, but nothing upsetting or graphic join my discord!

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Tbh i dont think Alastor really understands the concept of gender outside of male/female

But he would support you either way

Probably finds out through one of the other hotel residents who correct him on a pronoun

Or he saw you looking at your body in the mirror, upset about something

“Why do you look so critically at yourself?”

You hesitated to tell him at first

I mean, he died in the ‘30s. People who died in the modern age are still super transphobic so you were terrified what he would think

You started with explaining how you felt dysphoric sometimes, like things in your body just didn’t fit

He made an awkward comment about how your figure was great, that you were a beautiful (man/woman)

Then you tried to explain how that was the problem, how you didn’t want to be labeled that way

 If you prefer to look androgynous, he would actually surprisingly understand the idea. Sort of. 

“Ah, like Angel Dust! Not an issue, my dear” obviously referring to the male with feminine features

I mean, kind of. Though you preferred not looking one way or another, you could tell he was trying his best to act like he understood

As an overlord in hell, he’s got much bigger things on his mind than worrying about what gender identity somebody else had. It wasn’t that big of a deal to him

Still, he makes sure those around you respect your identity because he knows it’s important to you. Demons in hell can be unnecessarily cruel, so he will hit them back with equal cruelty, either physically or verbally

Nobody can disrespect his partner like that >:(

Definitely the type to say something like “um excuse me she goes by they/them” 

He tries though

if you changed your name, it wouldn't take him long to catch on and kind of just forget your deadname

it isn't uncommon for people in hell to go by a different name, so this wasn't any different

Affirmations go crazy when he notices you feeling particularly bad about your figure

Though, he usually opts to just take you out to get your mind off of it 

He’s not the best at comfort, but you appreciate the gesture

Rosie has definitely made fun (polite) comments about you and him being a queer couple, though Alastor doesn’t understand these At All

“Huh :D?” is a general response from him

Again, whether or not he fully understands the concept of gender binaries, he would care for you just the same as before

[iamnotokaythx]

just an idea:

reader “loses” miguel’s engagement ring, so he resorts to tattooing it on your finger so you can never pretend you’re not his 🥰

it could look so cool too with a red/blue/black design yknow?

anon i like the way your brain thinks. lowkey wanna do a pt2 where reader’s escaped him and is trying to cover up the tattoo to get rid of all evidence of him

cw: needles, tattooing, established relationship, reader has never gotten a tattoo/is a little afraid, yandere!miguel, gn reader, its all lowercase

—

“miguel, don’t you think this is a little bit much?” you ask, fidgeting with your soon-to-be inked finger.

“well, you lost the ring. this’ll make it to where you always have it on.” he replies with an innocent smile.

“i mean, we could look for it. and then we could put it on a chain?”

“true, but metal rusts. i’ve paid good money for a tattoo artist already. no whining.”

you decide to give up; it’s not like miguel is easy to sway when he’s set in something. the car pulls up to a parking spot in front of a cute mom and pop’s shop. miguel would have done it himself, but he has too shaky of hands and wasn’t certified—only the best for his darling.

the shop smelled like insence. you were led into a small room where a heavily inked person was sterilizing their needle. they turned back to you and waved you forward. “hi, are you mx. o’hara? appointment for 2:00.” they asked to be sure.

“soon to be.” you murmured, noticing how miguel grinned and stood up a little straighter as the artist referred to you as his spouse.

you sat on the chair and miguel offered his hand. post-eyeroll, you grabbed his hand anyways.

“i’m afraid of needles.” you warn the artist.

“it’s alright! many people are.” they promise you. “so low long have you been together? oh, and do you have wedding plans?” they ask over the whirring of the gun. they roll their chair to get right beside you, causing miguel to bristle a little bit.

“we’ve been together a couple years. our wedding’s planned for 2 months from now. they just keep losing their ring, and i like reminding everyone that they’re exclusive to me. we belong with each other.” miguel didn’t let you speak, too eager to inform even this random person that you are his and he is yours.

the tattooist glances up after miguel’s slightly creepy rant and laughs hollowly. “understood. well, you definitely do love them.”

“of course i do.” he snapped, earning a light hit from you.

“miguel. it was a compliment.” you scold him. he rolls his eyes. you squeeze his hand in anticipation as the gun touches down onto your ring finger.

“sorry.“ he muttered unapologetically.

-

on the car ride home, he held your hand in his and gazed intently the ring around your finger.

“it’s a little… vibrant.” he criticized, the hues being brighter than he envisioned. “the reds especially.”

“it’ll look more faded once it heals.”

“oh. good. not too faded though, right? i mean, it’s gonna be visible.”

“yeah. it’s a tattoo, miguel.” you remind him.

“ah. right.” he murmurs, still mesmerized by the ink. “do you think that artist was flirting with you? they were really close to you.”

“no, i don’t think they were flirting. they were hired to tattoo me.”

“right, right.”

“what’s your plan for after the wedding? get this one removed and then tattoo the wedding ring on?”

“…”

“that was sarcasm. and the tattoo was uncomfortable, i don’t want it zapped off just to replace it.”

“don’t lose your ring, then.” he flashed a cocky smile.

[angel-of-the-moons]

Alright, alright, consider, for the Marc smut: riding that boy's dick only it's soft (the vibes, not his cock) and gentle and sweet because they're just wanting to have some tender lovin' together. Y'know?

(the vibes, not his cock) <- I'm cackling lmao

Shade And Sweet Water

Marc Spector x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: NSFW, Smut, Sex, PiV sex, unprotected sex, blindfolding (sorta), cumshot(?), some sweet lovins

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: If anybody gets the reference in the title I'm gonna die lmao

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

If there was anything you understood about your relationship with your boyfriend(s), it was that Marc, when he wanted to be, could be more gentle than even Steven was aware.

Jake would poke at him, making jokes about him going "soft", but Marc would ignore him, shrugging his alter's quips off and stuffing them away to turn around and poke him with, later.

Jake was notoriously the one who liked to have heavy, hard sex. More times than you can count Jake would fuck you bent over something, sometimes even tugging on your hair, or bunching your clothes around your waist to ball in his fist, using the leverage to pull you back harder against his cock, watching as your ass bounced and jiggled with each slap of your hips.

He would take you in as many places as he could. In the kitchen, in bed, over the sofa... even in his most prized possession--his car. Not even Marc or Steven were allowed to drive it, let alone fuck you in it...

Steven was a bit more vanilla, however. He would often initiate sex in the bedroom, or in the shower. Places he considered very intimate on their own.

He would often spend his time giving a bit more than receiving, more than happy to be on his knees or on his belly between your thighs, hair mussed and falling in his face as he used his tongue and fingers until your eyes crossed and your toes ached from how hard they curled.

Ah... But Marc? Oh, Marc was certainly a wildcard. He enjoyed various kinds of sex. While he never got rough or quiet as hard as Jake did, or as soft and sweet as Steven, Marc was comfortably in the middle. He could be sweet and polite, or downright filthy while still keeping that twang of romance in.

No man's land, as you sometimes put it. It always brought a chuckle out of him when you said that.

But it was so painfully true and accurate, like right now...

Right now you were both on the sofa, the television program of the sports channel long forgotten as your naked bodies twined, your hips ever so slowly grinding down on his, driving his cock deeper into your snug, tight walls as your mouths sloppily devoured one another, hands roaming unabashedly and without restraint.

You had been at this for so long that your bodies were drenched with sweat, rolling off in heavy droplets, the smell of sin and sex permeating the air surrounding the two of you.

Your tongues fought one another for dominance, one never gaining the upper hand for long.

You gripped his curls in your fingers, panting hard when you broke apart, just to dive back in as you gyrated your hips slowly down onto him as you brought him in for another breath-robbing kiss.

"Fuck--" Marc breathed, his chest trembling as sweat rolled down the muscles of his pecs. He dropped his head back, letting out a deep groan that felt like it shot straight through you, sending a fresh throb down to your cunt as it enveloped him so tightly.

"Yeah, that is what we're doing, baby." You chuckle, grabbing his shirt from nearby to wipe your face of sweat that threatened to drip into your eyes.

His hands gripped and kneaded your hips, rolling his up to meet every downward roll of yours, slowly sinking you back down onto his cock.

"You know what I meant--hey!" Marc said, as you pulled his shirt over his face, just enough to hide his eyes.

Your hands gripped his wrists, and you slapped your hips down on his sharply, earning a deliciously loud gasp from him as he arched his back into you.

"Keep it on, please? It'll make it a bit more fun." You grin, leaning down to lick up the length of his throat, and back down again as you gave an open mouth kiss to his Adams apple as you rode him slow and hard.

For added measure, you decided to suck a hefty bruise over the lump in his throat, already adding to the collection of purple marks you'd left not too long before.

"God damn, honey..." Marc groaned, his hands starting to roam your sweaty body.

His fingers and palms trailed you in such an intimate way, almost like a blind man reading his favorite book in braille, memorizing each bump and curve, each slight imperfection in the page that he would find endearing and beautiful, reading an unwritten plot etched into your skin as your bodies melded and joined in the deepest physical level possible.

He would always recognize you, even blindfolded like he was now.

His hand moved up to your throat, cupping the slender expanse before his palm slid up your cheek, his thumb brushing against your bottom lip lovingly, almost possessively.

You weren't sure why that action in particular did it, but you curled over him, your nails scratching at his chest as you cum, a whimper coming from you as your hips stutter into his and you gush around his cock.

Marc grunted and planted his feet firmly on the floor, thrusting his hips up into yours to help you prolong your orgasm; continuing to stroke the head of his cock against that soft, gummy spot inside of you that knocked the wind out of you.

"Gh--fuck!" You hiccuped, rolling onto him almost mindlessly, his cock stroking deep inside you.

"Damn it, honey 'm gonna cum." Marc groaned deeply, breathing hard as he thrust up, his hips jolting sharply and wildly into you.

You took a deep breath and pulled your hips up enough to let his twitching cock slip out of your hole, before moving back down to grind down on it, the first spurt of his precum mixed with a bit of your slick wetting the trail of dark hairs that went up to his navel.

The friction on your overly-sensitive clit made your eyes roll back into your head as you try to grind and hump to work his orgasm out of him.

And god, was he gorgeous when you did.

His abs flexed taut, veins pulsed in his neck and in his arms as his jaw locked, rutting up against you as each volley of pearly liquid shot from the head of his cock, coating his abs and up to his chest in a slick white sheen.

You slowed your pace to a crawl until you stopped, the final spurts of his cum dripping down onto his not-quite-tanned skin and dark curls, effectively adding to the mess of heavy sweat that coated the two of you.

You leaned back a bit, enjoying how thoroughly ruined Marc looked as his hand shakily pulled his shirt off from over his eyes and looked at you, his eyes warm and foggy with the haze of his lingering orgasm.

"Okay... Remind me to use blindfolds more often." He grinned at you, flashing his teeth.

You ran your palms up his chest, purposefully avoiding the cum coating him like a lewd glaze as you grinned in return.

"I got a few ideas that Jake and I discussed, actually." You say to him, a soft hum coming from you.

"What ideas?" He asked, his hands caressing small circles on the skin of your thighs.

You tilt your head, batting your eyelashes.

"Oh... Don't worry. We'll bring it up with you later."

"Steven is gonna have a fit once he sees these bruises." He chuckles breathlessly.

"Ah, well, I know how to make it up to him~"

[seungsuki]

button - confessing your love using your school uniform button (gn! reader)

warning: none

note: i don't like the way how i wrote this :(

sakura petals decorated the streets of japan making it look like a scene of a fairy tale. the fairy tale scenario graces the graduation day of namikaze high school. the seniors shouted in joy along with a small party to celebrate their milestone. tears streamed on your friends faces as the last hugs were cherished. the last day of school was clouded by anxiety and excitement for [name]. 

while you were happy to end the dreadful hours of knowledge you'd most likely not use, you were also scared of losing your only friends. promises to keep in contact are made but aren’t always kept. of course, no one is to blame. everyone’s life is bound to be busier than before. [name] was the same. some of your friends are heading abroad forever while others are changing towns. none of that matters to you. you only had eyes for one person. 

bachira meguru 

a silly crush is what [name] would describe it. they happened to be neighbours for many years and because of that, they attended the same schools. he started off as a neighbour to a very good friend but now he stands on a hazy line. you couldn’t describe how he always made you feel special. every breathing minute is spent with him and him only. from the walk to school, lunch, gym and even the walk back home

“we finally graduated!”, bachira cheered balancing the soccer ball on his head as they walked back home 

“yeah.. what are you gonna do meg?”, you asked curiously 

“me? oh i haven't decided yet! i’m probably going to practise soccer more and help my mom around”, bachira said 

“you?”

“i.. i also haven’t decided yet. i might consider taking culinary like dad did”, you groaned remembering the pressure your dad forced on you

should you say it now? you had been planning out perfectly and would finally confess to bachira meguru. with the help and support of your friends, you learned how to ask someone out (most of them were cringe japanese dialogues but you loved them too much to say no). the tip you got was to simply speak your heart out… but how? it frightened you. you never openly shared your opinions with anyone, let alone your feelings. bachira may be your best friend but you never had the guts to talk about how you actually feel 

“meg.. i have to confess something so please take this seriously”, you stopped walking and looked down 

“what’s up [name]?”, bachira stopped too and stood in front of you 

“i- i like you!”, you got it out of your chest before covering your mouth 

“aww i like you too [name]!”, bachira cheered 

“wait, you like me too??”, you asked thinking you misheard 

“mhm! you’re such a good friend! how could i not like you!”, bachira explained 

you stood there listening to his explanation before facepalming. bachira didn’t really have much experience with romance and you wouldn’t blame him. was he really as dense? yes, yes he was. 

“no, i mean i like you! like really really like you!”, you slowly said emphasising on ‘really’ 

“and i also really really like you too! friends will always like each other! i’m not gonna have a competition here!”, bachira said kicking his soccer closer to him 

“meg, i want us to be more than friends”, you clarified hoping his understood 

“oooh”

did he finally understand?

“so you want to be best friends! you don’t need to ask! you’re my best friend since forever!”, bachira added 

“no meg, i want us to be even more than best friends”, you groaned tempted to give up 

“sooo… like best neighbours? ah man then i guess mrs yamada can be my second best neighbour”, bachira said referring to the old lady next door 

“i give up! you’re giving me no choice but to do this!”

your hands reached for your button blouse. reaching the second button, you quickly pulled it out and handed it to bachira, who only looked even more confused. with a red face, you walked out of the scene as fast as you could 

bachira was stunned at what his friend did. are you giving him a trinket? oh no.. does this mean you’ll never see him again? were you leaving the country? forever? bachira began panicking as the thought of losing his only friend would make him cry. he reached home and ran to the person who would know everything; his mom 

“mom! mom! look what [name] gave me!”, bachira shouted with teary eyes 

“what’s wrong- a button?”, his mother dropped her brushes and smile 

“oh my, you’re all grown up my child”, bachira’s mother gave a warm smile almost making her cry 

“[name] is leaving!! see?? i got this as a trinket! mom, we have to stop [name] from leaving! i don’t want my bestfriend gone!”, bachira cried 

“meguru silly, that’s the second button of her uniform”, his mother giggled at her son 

“so?”, bachira asked 

“so it means [name] confessed to you! she wants to be with you for the rest of your life! she doesn’t want to leave you”, bachira’s mother sighed 

“so… she wants to marry me?”, bachira’s eye lit up 

“uh- i guess you can interpret it that way sweetie”, his mother nervously laughed 

bachira blushed looking down at the button in his palm. while you simply confessed your love to him, bachira was now thinking of the future. while he still doesn’t understand the terms of love or dating, at least you would be there with him. his best friend would be with him- or well his partner would be with him

© seungsuki 2024-25 -- do not repost, translate, alter, etc on any platform without permission. Any characters used in my work do not belong to me, they are created by their original creator

[the-himawari]

A3! Usui Masumi - Translation [SR] A Body That Captures Your Gaze (1/2)

*Please read disclaimer on blog; default name set as Izumi

---

Masumi: … (This isn’t right either… I can’t find a magazine that I can use as reference. I’m going to head home.)

Tsumugi: Oh my. Masumi-kun?

Masumi: Tsumugi?

Tsumugi: I don't bump into you in places like this very often. Were you looking for something?

Masumi: Yeah. But I couldn’t find what I was looking for, so I’m going home.

Tsumugi: I see. Same here. How about we head home together then?

-pause-

Tsumugi: By the way, I heard from Tasuku that you’re also going to be showing off your muscles in an upcoming magazine photoshoot. Is that right?

Masumi: Apparently. I’m not sure how much we’re going to show, but for me, I heard it’s going to be my abs.

Tsumugi: Oh, really? If I recall correctly, you’ve also been working on your muscles, haven’t you?

Masumi: Yeah. I asked Tasuku to come up with some muscle training regiments for me.

Tsumugi: But you weren’t working out this hard before, were you? Why did you decide to start?

Masumi: This all started after I heard about the time Director and Citron went to a body building competition together. She looked happy when she described how Citron participated and won the special judge’s award.

Tsumugi: Fufu. So the reason was Director after all.

Masumi: Of course it was. Otherwise, there’s no point going out of my way to ask for training menus to work on my muscles.

Tsumugi: That sounds like Masumi-kun, alright. Have you bulked up quite a bit from your workouts?

Masumi: It’s going. Sometimes I work on a hard regiment and sometimes not.

Tsumugi: I suppose I’ll be able to see the results of your efforts in the magazine that's coming out. I’m looking forward to it.

-pause-

Tsumugi: We’re home.

Izumi: Ah, these photos of Muku-kun are great! He has a certain allure, doesn’t he?

Masumi: ! Director’s voice…

*runs off*

Tsumugi: Ah, Masumi-kun. Wait for me!

-pause-

Kazunari: They're legit such a bomb photos!

Omi: I agree. These poses were Muku’s suggestions.

Masumi: What are you talking about?

Tsumugi: Are those photos?

Kazunari: Ah, if it isn’t Massu and Tsumutsumu!

Izumi: Welcome back!

Masumi: I’m home.

Izumi: We were just selecting which bromide of Muku-kun to sell this time.

Kazunari: Lookie, isn’t this one to die for? Mukkun’s pose is killing it!

Tsumugi: You’re right. He looks cool with his sharp expression too.

Masumi: You just mentioned that Muku's pictures look alluring… Do you like these types of poses or something?

Izumi: Well, there’s no doubt I thought he looked charming. But I wouldn’t say that I specifically like the poses themselves. Both Muku-kun’s poses and expressions in his photos fit the concept perfectly. That’s what's great about them.

Masumi: (The concept…) I got it.

*runs off*

Izumi: Huh!? Masumi-kun? What do you mean you got it…!?

-pause-

Muku: Umm, so you have something to ask me… Ah! Could it be that you want to talk about love!?

Masumi: No, not today. That’s not what this is about.

Muku: Ah, okay then…

Masumi: I’m going to be showing my abs in an upcoming magazine photoshoot. But… considering the concept, I probably shouldn’t just show them off. I think it’d be better if I looked more alluring. So if you have any books that might be helpful for those kinds of poses, let me know.

Muku: Eh!? You’re asking me about that? I think it would be better to ask Azu-nee to teach you things like that though…

Masumi: I’m asking you. Director looked at your bromides and said they were “alluring”.

Muku: Director-san said that…? Alright, understood. In that case, please leave it to me!

Masumi: Yeah. Thanks.

---

| next

[vithe-potato]

Better?

Wrecker x reader

Warnings:  Reader described as having thighs large enough to chafe, nothing else it’s just fluff.

Summary: You and Wrecker decide to take a walk around the Market, and he comes up with a solution to the annoying chafing of your thighs.

Word Count: 937

You had been tugging down the inside of your skort every chance you got. 

Long story short, the ship had more damage than usual from the latest missions, and you needed a safe place to fix it up. You and the batch found a peaceful little planet ⸺not yet tainted by the effects of the empire⸺ to touch down on. With less hustle and bussle of previous planets markets and no missions to go on today, you and your lovely boyfriend (with whom you get no alone time) decided to walk around the town's market.

Birds were chirping in mossy-green trees, and the sun was beating down on your face. So naturally when getting ready for the date, you decided to wear something cute and summery compared to your usual modified clone armor.

You immediately regretted the decision. The brand new skort Wrecker and Omega had gotten you as a birthday gift was constantly riding up into uncomfortable positions. The confidence you had gained earlier from all the compliments you had received, was slowly draining.

"Meshla, look how cute these are!" Wrecker enthusiastically called you over to a little shop with little animals that looked more like balls of fluff scratching at the window of their enclosure. He kneeled  down close to the window to take a better look at the cute creatures.

You smiled at him, trying to ignore the painful burning on your inner thighs with every step you took toward him. 'Beauty is pain' you kept repeating in your head. "They are adorable! Do you think Hunter would kill us if we brought one home?" I took his hand in mine and chuckled at the thought of Hunter's angry face the moment we would show up with one of these guys.

Wrecker's nose scrunched up and his lips formed a pout in disappointment, "Yeah, probably." He sighed, lifting from his feet, keeping hold of your hand as he started dragging you to the next sight. You winced slightly, wishing that you had at least shoved some Vaseline in your purse just in case.

The dirt kicked up from under his feet as he abruptly stopped. Confused, you looked up at him, an eyebrow arched slightly as a que for him to explain. "Are you okay?" He asked, concerned.

"Yeah," you brought up your hand to block the sun from your face, you had to look up so far to see his handsome face, "Why?"

"I didn't pull on ya too hard, did I?" You shook your head and your face relaxed as you now understood his concern. "Your arms not hurt or anythin'?" He asked gently.

You sighed, and gently smiling up at him you placed a hand softly on the arm of the hand you were holding. "No, Wreck, I'm okay."

"What's got'cha wincing like that then?" you paused, the heat now too much as it rose to your face.

"Oh it's nothing." you tried to wave it off and keep walking, but his hand was still wrapped around you, and there was no way you could force him to move his feet, no matter how bad you wanted to.

"It's not nothing if it puts my cyare in pain." He said stubbornly. You have to bite your lip to keep from smiling at the cute pout on his lips, and the name he had given you falling from them.

You step toward him to lean your intertwined hands on his chest. Now, craning your head upwards to see him. You lowered your voice quite a bit and gently said, "It's my thighs, Wreck." You can see now that you have just made him confused. You purse your lips together, trying to figure out how to continue. “My thighs chafe-” You cleared your throat, you didn’t want him to take it like you didn’t like the skirt, so you decide not to mention it. “They just burn a bit, it’s ok though, lets just keep walking, I don’t want to go home yet.”

Wrecker smiles as he hears you refer to the Marauder as home, but his pout returns when he remembers the problem. “Ah that’s it huh? That’s not a problem at all Mesh’la!” He then brings his large hands to your waist and suddenly you feel weightless and a million butterflies are in your stomach as he lifts you into his arms, carrying you bridal style. You ⸺suddenly self conscious⸺ look to all of the townspeople passing by giving you weird looks. 

Your face must have shown your concern because your abnormally strong boyfriend looks down at you, now his eyebrow is raised. You gave into his questioning gaze “As much as I love this, Wreck, I think it would be better for me to just keep walking.” His eyes moved to where you had been looking before, understanding came over his features. 

He smiled gently at you, “Well how ‘bout this ‘en.” He maneuvers you like you weighed nothing, pulling your arms up to rest around his neck and easily shifts you to his back. You feel his rough hands supporting the bottoms of your thighs while you cling to his back. Giggling into the crook of his neck, you feel like a kid again. Wrecker smiles proudly, he will do whatever it takes to make you happy, especially if it includes showing off his strength to you. “Better?” He asks, looking over his shoulder to plant a kiss to your blushing cheek.

“Better.” And with that, he set off to inspect the next booth. The two of you didn’t return ‘home’ until the sun had just passed the horizon. 

It's springtime and my thighs chafe, so I thought I would write a little about it. I hope this was relatable! It was completely self-indulgent lol. I haven't written in so long, it really felt good to finally finish something.

Master List : Requests are open!!

[oddeyes588]

So... Lostbelt 6 part 2 is out and it's great! I haven't finished it yet but uh... I gotta address something. And it's this scene.

Good scene, right? Beautiful CG, some insight into the way Castoria thinks... but there's something wrong with this scene.

It's translated wrong.

Now if you're like me and you've been keeping up with fan translations for FGO, you may have realized this already, but this translation fundamentally misses the entire point of the scene.

This is what Castoria is supposed to be saying:

I don't want to see her. I don't want to be shown her. She's too much. I don't want to believe it. I don't want to acknowledge it.

After all.

She has no equal. Takes no refuge. No one who understands her. None who can comfort her.

She receives no reward. No goals. No rest. She cannot afford failure, not even a single mistake.

Ah—from the bottom of my heart, I think: "no."

Just how cruel must it be for everyone to smile and acknowledge a king like that?

Do you see the difference? This is a defining scene concerning Castoria's character. Something that sets her apart from every other iteration of Artoria that we've known so far (barring the Servantverse ones). Castoria sees the way of life that her PHH self chose and is repulsed. She can't stand to think about it. At first it seems like she's just buckling under the weight of those expectations, but in reality, Castoria just can't stand to see her.

She can't stand to see this other version of herself willingly throw away her humanity for the sake of an ideal. To give up her own happiness, to give up any chance of ever being understood, all to become a perfect king who the people will love and praise, but never truly understand.

It is a lonely existence, and like a certain redhead in Fate/Stay Night, she can't accept it. Who could bear to live like that? Who would want to live like that? Castoria wants nothing more than to be happy. She wants to make friends her age, eat sweets with them, go shopping with them and walk down the street while holding their hands. She wants to LIVE, and the thought of giving all of that up for the sake of everybody but yourself...

Noble? Sure. But it's mostly just tragic.

That's what this scene is about. Establishing exactly how Castoria feels about her Proper Human History self. She doesn't admire her, if anything it HURTS to see her, to know what she went through, to know what she did.

So WHY was it translated like this?

I'm the only one of my kind. I have nowhere to run. No one understands me. Romance is out of the question.

There's no reward. No finish line. no rest. I can't make so much as a single mistake.

Ahh... So many things I'll never have.

How cruel would I have to be for everyone to accept a king like me with a smile?

Listen, Castoria thinking of her own struggles in parallel to Saber's is interesting, and it isn't NOT there... but that isn't the point of the scene, and foregrounding it like this is uh...

It sure is a decision, that's for sure.

It's not necessarily bad, but it just doesn't fit due to the obvious reason that this isn't what the scene is supposed to be. This scene isn't Castoria seeing a vision of Saber and going "wow, how am I going to live up to this?" as if Saber's story is aspirational.

No. It's a tragedy, and what Castoria is actually thinking is "that's cruel and fucked up"

Anyways I just felt like putting this out there... and before anybody jumps down my throat about how the fan-translation could've been wrong... I did bring this up with a friend who can read Japanese and went to read the node in Japanese. While you could argue that because Caster and Artoria are acknowledged to be different versions of the same person, that Caster is using "I" to refer to the other, but the last line is just outright wrong. The scene is fundamentally about the cruelty of everyone around Saber placing an impossible burden on her, and how Castoria feels seeing that.

[jennamoran]

The Far Roofs

cover art by Isip Xin

Hi!

Today I’m going to talk a little bit more about my forthcoming RPG, the Far Roofs. I’ve previously talked about

general principles,

the rats,

the campaign, and

the Mysteries!

Today I want to talk about one of those Mysteries in particular, my favorite Mystery:

Hoop Snake.

Now, to be clear, this is probably going to give you a slanted picture of what the Mysteries are. Hoop Snake isn't really a good standard reference Mystery. None of them are! But if I had to pick one of the Mysteries in the book to say "ah, this is the default, the one you should use in your conceptual model when asking if something is like a Mystery," I'd probably go with Typhon or Unicorn.

Hoop Snake is just my favorite because the ridiculous is the sublime.

I looked that up just now to see if I was remembering someone saying that, or saying that myself, and I still don't really know, but there's an old saying, "from the sublime to the ridiculous," and, like, here's the thing:

If they're the same thing, that's just a circle. That's a loop.

It's like a snake, that bites its own tail.

The Far Roofs includes some of the rat stories about the Mysteries, and they're mostly kind of moving, kind of scary.

... for Hoop Snake, it's just:

.

A rat poked Hoop Snake with his paw. Hoop Snake jumped up, bit its tail, and rolled away. “Like hell!” said the rat. The rat gave chase, over the near roofs and the far. They wrestled at the cliffs over Bluenettle River, and the rat bit into Hoop Snake’s neck, and Hoop Snake spat out its own tail and died. He dragged the snake back, but nobody understood what he had done. He couldn’t explain it! All he could say was, “It put its tail in its mouth and rolled.”

.

I have to write a lot of serious stuff in my games so that there's a backdrop of genuine emotion and investment behind any snakes rolling around, but ... I'm honestly in love with the silly and making people say "Jenna why no Jenna no why," which is why Hoop Snake is probably my favorite.

Alas, that it only really shows up in a brief interlude in the campaign! Still, it can come back any time your group likes.

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

Shadows Entwined: part 11

BatmanVsTmnt!Leonardo x sidekick!reader

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 / Part 12 Part 13 Bonus (18+)

A/N: I bet ya all have been waiting for what is about to happen, but it is still not over yeeeeeet💙😉

Warnings: Fighting, breaking of bones, if you have seen the movie you know what happens, just with a little extra.

The reader and the turtles are 19.

Baxter Stockman connected the last few wires, plucking the machine together, the Cloud Seeder making noises as it started to warm up. The scientist turned fly mutant then turned towards the people below him inside of Ace Chemicals’ main building, his arms up in the air as he gave the speech he had been preparing for several weeks now.

“Gentleman!”, he started. “Ninjas all around… murders… I’m pleased to announce that the venom slash ooze hybrid is complete. The Cloud Seeder is ready to launch”.

Shredder turned towards Ra’s al Ghul with his always angry eyes, narrowed in almost spite for the Demon’s Head.

“Then it is done, Ra’s”, Shredder said, his voice muffled by the metal mask that covered his mouth, his distaste for the leader of the League of Assassins thick as he spoke, bubbling over into pure hatred and anger. “The Foot has completed its obligations to you. I will expect no more delays in giving me the Lazarus Pit!”

Ra’s sighed, annoyed with Shredder’s continued demands of the pit, just like he had done at Arkham the other night as they sought out Joker. It was already becoming an old story. Ra’s suddenly understood very well why Kraang wasn’t there to help Shredder out with their plans. Maybe that was why Shredder came to Ra’s in the first place. Or maybe it was his age. Ra’s could really feel the 650 something age difference between the two.

“Over eager as always”, Ra’s sighed, side eyeing the ninja and the blades on his gloves. He then turned his attention back towards Baxter Stockman, giving him a firm command to “activate the machine”, making the fly turn towards him. “It’s time for the city to reward to its primal nature and destroy itself”.

Shredder knew very well what that meant. No Lazarus Pit before Ra’s knew the machine was working.

“Do as the man says”, Shredder growled at Stockman.

“Yes sir!”, Stockman said, turning back towards the Cloud Seeder with a small laugh. Though the fly had several times wondered about his status as a hostage, he could not deny the excitement of trying out his machine. It was fine being a hostage, as long as he got to try out his newest creation. His small wings carried him to the machine, turning it on with a small beep, lights and screens turning on with small sounds as the Cloud Seeder gained life.

“Ah”, Ra’s sighed in delight, watching as the machine woke up from its slumber. “And now nothing can stand in my way”.

But like so many villains often did, Ra’s spoke too soon, the Foot Ninjas and assassins turning to the wall in confusion, at the sound of rapidly approaching motors.

With no hesitation, Leo broke through the wall with the Turtle Van, sending bricks flying everywhere. You, still on the back of Raph’s motorcycle, came flying through the window alongside Batgirl, sending glass shards across the room. The Batmobile broke through the window just above the door, shatting the group of Foot Ninjas that stood in its way. Emerging from your vehicles, you and your Bat family stood alongside the turtles, staring down the big crowd of villains.

“So much for your distraction”, Shredder said to Ra’s, knowing very well that he was beginning to push his buttons.

Donnie’s eyes quickly scanned the machine in front of them, no confusion about what it was that he was looking at.

“That’s it”, he said, referring to the Cloud Seeder. “We have to shut it off before it launches”.

“You’re too late, detective!”, Ra’s called out, smirking at Batman as Foot ninjas and assassins gathered around him. “Gotham will fall and be born anew”.

“We don’t have much time”, Batman said, his eyes never leaving Ra’s. “Let’s take him down”. And as if that had been a call for war, all of you jumped into action, fighting and making your way through ninjas and assassins. Leo swung his katana at whatever enemy came close, followed by Robin that jumped and kicked them so hard that they fell to the ground without a sound. Mikey’s nunchucks sounded loudly whenever they came into contact with his opponents faces, just as loudly as the sound of Batman’s knuckles against jaws. Donnie’s bo staff knocked people out, while Raph jumped an unsuspecting assassin, at the same time as Batgirl’s motorcycle roared as her front wheel connected with a Foot ninja’s face. You too fought the best you could, using everything your father had ever taught you. But you did find yourself unprepared at moments, ducking quickly before a blade was able to grace your skin.

Shredder and Ra’s watched calmly as you all fought. Evenever one of their men fell, several more came to take their place, keeping you all busy. Almost too busy. You had a hard time keeping up. Whenever you dodged one punch, you were soon met by another, keeping you turning, running, jumping and ducking, almost out of breath. You stumbled, the blade of an assassin making its way towards you, and for a moment you thought that it was it. This would be the moment you would die. But before the blade could touch the surface of your skin, another sharp shinny one came into view, deflecting it, followed by a flash of green and blue, a pair of beautiful blue eyes looking your way for a moment, making sure you were okay. Leo.

It was not hard for Leo to emobile the assassin, with Donnie coming to his aid, helping his older brother clear the way, before both of them brought out their grappling hooks. In a swift move, Leo brought his arm around you, pressing you to his side, before letting the grappling hook pull you both to his desired destination. The scaffolding, high above ground, not far from where Shredder and Ra’s were standing. Leo dropped you off behind him, making sure you were covered by his shell, before Donnie came to his side, followed by Batman that took a spot between them, all three staring down the two villains.

“Shut off the Cloud Seeder”, your father commanded the two turtles, almost not acknowledging you behind Leo. But he knew you were there. You knew your father too well. There was no way he hadn’t seen Leo bring you with him. “Shredder is mine”.

“I think you forgot how our last encounter played out”, Shredder said, reminding you of what your father had told you. The things that had happened inside of Wayne Enterprise, while you had stayed outside, watching the turtles and Penguin go at it on another roof. But there was no time for you to tell your father. You wanted him to be careful, and not let Shredder come too close again. But before you could even utter a word, he and Shredder were off, fighting on the scaffolding.

Before you could even fully register your father’s absence in the chaos, Leo turned towards you, his pretty eyes catching yours.

“You wait here, (Y/N)”, he said in a demand, before he and Donnie were off, using their grappling hooks to get past Shredder and Batman, landing not far from the Cloud Seeder. And Ra’s al Ghul.

“Typical”, the Demon’s Head spoke. “Batman sends children to do his work for him. Perhaps another must die to teach him the folly of his ways”. Ra’s pulled off his cape, letting it fall to the ground. Leo and Donnie exchanged glances, before Ra’s came at them with a sudden move, causing both of them to jump back. You gasped, covering your mouth with your hands.

On the ground the others continued their fight against the men of Shredder and Ra’s al Ghul, with Robin having turned his attention towards Baxter Stockman, only for Stockman to throw up before Robin even got to him.

You jumped from side to side, unsure what to do. You couldn’t just stay back here and do nothing. There was no way. Especially not with all the narrow misses Ra’s pulled on Leo and Donnie. And it was with the sudden push of Leo, that sent him colliding with the scaffolding that brought you into action, using your grappling hook the same way he and his brother had.

You landed next to Donnie watching Ra’s with narrow eyes, ignoring Donnie’s confused look.

“But you have no weapons”, Donnie said, throwing a quick worried look over his shoulder at Leo who still wasn’t up from the ground.

“Don’t worry about it”, you said, knocking your wrists together, hearing the echo of the metal inside of them.

“It’s almost a pity”, you heard Ra’s snicker as he swung his blade one more time, making you and Donnie jump back. “So many children that must die today”.

You were ready to jump back in, but before you had the chance, Donnie did, still angry from what Ra’s had done to Leo. But Donnie was met with a kick to his plastron, making him fall to his knees for a moment. Ra’s swung his blade at him, but Donnie managed to catch with his bo staff, the point of Ra’s sword poking through the middle of wood. In the short moment Donnie stared at it, still in shock from what had happened, Ra’s grabbed his forearm and threw it over the railing, before bringing his foot down upon it with full force. Donnie yelled out in pain as his bone broke, falling onto his broken arm, between the pieces of his broken staff.

Ra’s looked at his work with a small smile, before pushing Donnie off the scaffolding with his foot, sending the mutant plumaging towards the earth below.

“Donnie!”, Leo called out, making you aware that Leo now sat up. But in the short time you looked away, Ra’s had turned his attention towards you, making you take a few steps back, terror clear in your eyes. “No!”Leo called out again, flashbacks from Arkham Asylum flooding his mind. His brothers laying dead on the floor of the boiler room, and the fear in your eyes.

Ra’s swung his sword at you, and you shield yourself with your gloves, the metal inside of them making the sharp edge bounce off. Ra’s roared in annoyance, before kicking you with his foot, making you fall to the ground. The vision of you on the ground, crying out in fear was very clear in Leo’s head. He could not let it happen.

With a battle roar Leo rose from the ground and jumped at Ra’s. Ra’s turned at the last moment, their blades clashing together.

“Get away from her”, Leo growled as the sky light broke above you, the Cloud Seeder launching with Donnie hanging off of it with his good arm, while Mikey frantically tried to turn it off.

Ra’s laughed when he caught on to what was happening. Young love was never hard to spot. He had seen it from the moment Leo safed you on the floor below and brought you with him, and when you selflessly jumped into action, with nothing but your metal gloves to protect you.

“Then be her hero and make me”, Ra’s laughed pushing Leo off, before swinging his sword at you once more. You ducked and rolled out of the way from two more blows, before Leo was on him once again.

“I have to admit”, Ra’s said through the clashes of blades, clearly very amused. “This is very interesting. A turtle and a human. How did you expect that to work?” Leo did not answer however, but swung at him once more. “You think I’m trying to make a fool of you? Well, I’m not. You seem like a smart child, and therefore you may know how impossible it sounds. But the Cloud Seeder could be your key to be together. It could turn her into anything. A bat, a wolf. Maybe even a turtle”. But Leo did not listen. He knew what Ra’s was trying to do. Make him unsure. Make him question. Make him hesitate. But Leo did none of those things, especially not with you, your family and his brothers’ lives on the line. He felt anger, the same kind of anger he had felt in Arkham, and it was controlling him.

Ra’s, seemingly too caught up in his own perceived brilliance, did not notice you launch at him, kicking at one of his feet, making him stumble. Leo, still blinded by anger, jumped at him once more, but Ra’s caught him in the last moment, before throwing him off the scaffolding and down towards the floor below. You called out for Leo as he landed on the ground with all the wind blown out of him, dropping one of his katanas on the way down. Ra’s turned his attention towards you, smiling menacingly as gave you a hard kick to your side, causing you to roll up on the ground, whimpering at the pain. He then grabbed a hold of the railing, ready to jump over, sending you one last evil smile.

“Time to get rid of that turtle lover of yours”, he said, before acceding to the floor, where Leo was slowly getting up, resting his weight of the katana he still had in hand, watching as Ra’s landed on his other one. The memories from Arkham still flooded Leo’s head. His brothers, you, all of it. But then he remembered your father’s words.

“Your anger won’t help your brothers, and it won’t save (Y/N). You have to focus”.

Taking in a deep breath, Leo got off the ground as Ra’s came closer, his blade still proudly in his hand. On the scaffolding above, Leo could hear you whimper and see your eyes as you watched them below you. Leo calmed his breath, watching as Ra’s got closer, grabbing firmly around the katana in his hand.

Whatever Ra’s had expected, it wasn’t the sudden newfound speed that Leo came in with, clashing his katana with his sword in several swift moves. Ra’s was taken aback, taking several steps back with each blow, but then struggling to do so when Leo stepped on his foot. You watched in awe as Leo managed to swing Ra’s sword out of his hand, sending it flying up into the air, before it landed into the floor several meters away. But Ra’s wasn’t done, continuing to fight without a weapon, kicking and punching at a dodging Leo.

Leo then jumped, swinging his katana down upon Ra’s. But to your surprise, Ra’s caught Leo’s blade between his hands before breaking it in half. Leo stumbled in shock, before Ra’s sucker punched him in the face, sending him flying backwards, the sight making your insides hurt more than they already did.

Ra’s went to get his sword, before pointing it at Leo, who was still struggling on the ground, all while you watched in fear.

“How?”, Leo asked, still not fully having processed what just had happened. Ra’s chuckled.

“Foolish child”, he chuckled. “I’m hundreds of years old, and have trained with the greatest teachers in history. How could you possibly-”.

Ra’s was suddenly cut off as Leo’s foot kicked up between his legs, hitting him where the sun was not supposed to shine, and definitely no foot either. Ra’s fell to his knees, cupping his manhood while Leo got up with a backflip.

“Oh yeah?”, Leo asked, finding the scene before him very amusing. “Well, I’m 19, and I learned this from a rat”. Leo did a series of small punches and pokes to Ra’s upper body, before the leader of the League of Assassins fell unconscious to the ground, dust flying up around him.

“Leo!”, you called out from above, crawling towards the edge of the scaffolding. “Catch me!” And without question Leo did so, holding arms open for you, catching you as you fell down from above making sure not to touch you where Ra’s had kicked you.

Both you and Leo wanted to ask each other if you were okay, but neither of you did so. You could not help yourselves. As relief rushed over you both, there was nothing that stopped your lips from crashing together in a passionate kiss. For a moment the two of you forgot where you were or what was happening, letting nothing but the feeling of each other's lips play out in your mind. Finally, after so many hours of wondering, Leo was finally able to feel them against his. Soft and warm. It was only his first kiss and his was already feeling himself becoming addicted. He already dreaded the moment he would have to let go of them again.

Leo leaned his head further to the right, deepening the kiss, until both of you had to pull away for air, staring into each other’s eyes, fighting the smiles that was playing at the corners of your lips, and the urges to go for another kiss. Leo’s lips felt cold now, and there was nothing he would rather do, than warm them up with yours one more time. But now was not the time. As much as he wished it was, he could not stand around and continue to kiss you, even if it was very tempting.

“Come on”, Leo said, forcing himself to let you go in order to take your hand, pulling you with him towards the stairs. “Let’s help your father”.