#i could be hard on a man when he needed it

[hazelfoureyes]

⟢Alastor x Cupid FemReader Tasked with making a demon believe in true love or you can’t return to heaven, things immediately go off the rails when you hurt yourself and Alastor catches one of your most troubling arrows; Mania

I managed to finish this despite, ya know, the aforementioned: (´°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥ω°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥｀)

˚₊ · »-♡→ Week 1 and Week 2 (keep reading)

˚₊ · »-♡→Week 3 and Week 4 smut💦

˚₊ · »-♡→Week 5, Week 6, Week 7, and Epilogue smut💦

「warnings/promises: Alastor x CupidFemReader, broken bones, feet washing, normal sized Luci, you know the outfit in my PFP? You’re wearing that but soft purple and the bottom half is ambiguous because idk baby whatever you feel best in it’s your story, Husk has a bad time, Alastor has a bad time, You have a bad time, Charlie has a great time 👌🏼, not choking」

Minors this one is chill but the next two imma need you to Dni 💋 ♥️ 🧹lovingly

You had made a mistake, yes, but Hell? Really?

Sure, you had dropped an arrow into the water supply of a nunnery which did lead to some unholy behaviors. But! The nuns seemed quite happy. Wasn’t that the point?

Tossing you to Hell through a hastily opened portal was honestly unprofessional. You ended up dropping three stories, upside down, in front of a butcher's shop.

In the seconds between Sera telling you, ‘You can return when you’ve made a sinner believe in true love.’ and Lute kicking you square in the chest through the hell door, you thought it wouldn’t be so hard. True, you couldn’t use your arrows as that wouldn’t be “true love” and also too easy, even gods weak to your shots, but ultimately sinners were still human. Humans were pushovers! Pliable, gentle at their hearts, desiring love and tenderness. How bad could the naughty ones be? 

And then you landed shoulder first onto the pavement. It hurt. Things didn’t hurt in heaven…

Your arrows scattered, quiver spilling when you inverted. Wincing, you scrambled to grab as many as were within reach. Your right shoulder was burning, a new sensation.

You counted them by name as you gathered: Eros, Agape, Philia, Pragma, Philautia, Ludus, Storge… panic. 

ErosAgapePhiliaPragmaPhilautiaLudusStorge— Mania wasn’t there. Arguably the arrow that caused you the most trouble, the sting of Mania would cause a madness that led to obsessive behaviors, possessiveness, jealousy. 

Pulling yourself up, arrows clutched in one hand, the other holding the place near your collar was throbbing, your eyes were frantic in their search.

“What’s this?”

You finally looked up from the sidewalk, a man’s back to you before he turned. Bile rose and burned your throat as he pulled Mania from where it had pierced his chest pocket.

His eyes, shades of red heaven didn’t even entertain, made a simple trip from the arrow's head to your face.

The man went so still you thought for a moment he was a hologram, but you could see the tiniest rise and fall of his chest. A deer facing down a bright light, he remained frozen in place as you began to approach him.

“Excuse my manners, but that’s mine and I really need it back.” Your injured arm moved first and the pain made you see white, a cry so sharp people turned to look. He snapped back to his senses, and with an odd sound you couldn’t quite place, he seemingly disappeared into the ground.

Mania was left behind, shining smugly against the dirty pavement. You didn’t want to make a reach for it, fear flooding you. You’d never felt pain before.

You’d seen it in humans, but never in your existence had you experienced it. Would both arms hurt?

You let the left hand abandon its guarding place and grabbed the errant arrow. Tucking into an alley, you crouched and returned the arrows to their quiver with immense difficulty.

Okay, yes it was Hell but maybe you were a little paranoid. A sense of being watched wouldn't leave you even after you re-emerged from the darkness of the alley. 

The enormity of your task set in as you surveyed the area. You, an obviously heavenly creature even without your wings out on display, would need time to make anyone believe in any form of love. Where would you go in the meantime? And now injured for the first time in your life? How long would that need to mend?

Expanding your view, you saw the currently defunct doomsday countdown hovering above the embassy. Perfect, holy ground would atleast keep you safe for the night, which was falling with a malignant speed.

They couldn’t have given you some time to change? Or pack a set of clothes? Your short sleeved button up a (literally) glowing shade of white was attracting too much attention, golden sandals now cloudy from various fluids across Pentagram city’s streets. Your heart shaped overalls a powdered purple, you looked like an adult child among a sea of very tired professionals. 

When you got to the embassy you only had one good arm to open the heavy doors, which unfortunately didn’t budge. Perhaps you needed two? Trying to muster up some adrenaline, you began to pant. Deep breaths like the women in labour you sometimes worked your magic on.

As soon as you gripped the handle you saw something that made you jump back, muscles flexing around whatever damage you’d done in your body from the fall. A large black snake? Some demonic squid’s appendage? Something unholy grabbed hold of the handle as soon as you had and gave such a tug the doors violently shook.

You spun around to the dark neighborhood behind you. Nothing. Turning back the thing was gone. And so was all of your hope. It was locked. The tears were unwanted and unnecessary, but just-- you were hurting so much, you were dirty, you were alone, and now essentially homeless.

If there was ever a reason to cry, you decided to let yourself have this one. 

The lamplights flickered and the entire street went pitch black. Because of course it did.

Hyperventilating now entirely without intention, you watched as one light to the left popped on with a static buzz. Desperate to be out of the darkness you ran to the spotlight. As soon as your foot entered the beam, the light beside it lit up. Your eyes wandered to heaven above, were they helping you? Had you not been entirely abandoned?

Of course! Yeah. They sensed you at the doors and sent off some guidance. How silly of you. Relief washed over you as you ran through the lights until your foot left one spotlight but the next hadn't popped on.

Twirling back to the embassy, you saw all of the lights shut off in succession behind you.

Just you and the one lamp now, and the glow of some TVs in the shop window to the right. What was the meaning of this? 

That weird sound you heard earlier but couldn’t place… electricity but dusty and barely contained. Your gaze was drawn to the radio in the shop window in front of you. You hadn’t noticed it until it buzzed to life. It lit up faintly, dial turning on its own until a high and smooth voice rang out, “Looking for your way to heaven? You’re in luck! The Hazbin Hotel is now accepting any and all willing to find redemption!”

This must have been the message, I mean, heaven was never good at being subtle.

“Just make your way to the left and toward the looming building atop the hill!”

Your head turned to your left and then up slightly. Bathed in red and white lights stood a behemoth of a building on the edge of a cliff.

Head still facing the hotel, your eyes flitted back to the radio.

“Reception is open 24 hours a day!”

You touched your arm, then patted at your pockets. Not a wallet or ID card on you. You were the 17th Cupid incarnation, why would you have a fucking ID card? But didn’t those places need such things? You’d seen every romcom earth had ever produced. There was always some issue with hotel check ins. 

“Not a red cent needed! We literally do not care who you are!”

Oh. Wait. Was this a trap?

“Created by the Lucifer Morningstar’s daughter! A foolish young woman who genuinely believes in reforming sinners!”

Lucifer?? The former angel, yes, but the word angel carried much more weight now. Perhaps he would have a modicum of pity given your circumstances.

You took an unsteady foot forward and toward the hotel when the street lights all buzzed back to life.

The path to the hotel was long, many demons stopping you on your way but quickly losing interest after a second or two of pestering you. You gave a silent prayer to the archangels for that blessing.

It must have been nearly 1am when you finally made it to the hotel’s doors. When you entered you found an empty reception desk and a poorly written note:

Before the bell’s hammer even hit the metal, a man popped up from behind the counter.

The man.

The man you shot with Mania.

“Welcome to th-,”

You were outside and leaving the awning before he could finish, but just as quickly as you left he appeared in front of you, “Still missing your manners?”

He blocked your path with his remarkable size. Why were demons so tall? What was the use of it?

“Deer got your tongue?” He bent over unnaturally at the waist.

“What?”

“Would you like-,” he began.

You walked around him and down the driveway. He moved briskly beside you, slowly growing larger and larger until his body was several stories tall and entirely blocking the gates of the premises.

A horror. Hell was full of horrors.

He crouched, large toothy smile now baring down at you.

If you stabbed him in the eye with an arrow, which would cause the least trouble? It was a rule to never give a double love bite but this was a dire situation.

But if you were sent to hell for a little nun love fest, what would purposefully stabbing a sinner do?

He rapidly shrank, hands coming to his front to catch a summoned microphone…Cane? Staff?

“You’re injured. Just, come back inside. I promise I don’t bite without consent.” His head cocked to the side, a quiet, “Usually” tacked on.

We’re you visibly hurt? How bad was it? You looked past him to where sounds of yelling and music were rolling up the hill.

“You don’t have many options, angel.” He hissed the word through clenched teeth. Disgust almost seemed to lace his voice, but why, then, was he offering help?

“Not an angel. Cupid. Different.” Kind of. You gave the quiver a shake.

“Ah yes. That explains why you shot at me earlier.” A large hand came to your side and directed you to turn back around. He kept it there, pushing softly to keep you moving.

“I didn't shoot you.”, You huffed, crossing your arms before doubling over in pain. He stopped walking, hand resting now against your spine. Regaining your composure, you continued towards the hotel lobby, “My arrows fell out and…you caught one. With your body.”

“My pocket made quite the lucky catch. Now!” He snapped, a key appearing and floating into his hand with a sparkle of neon green, “Let’s get you to a room and cleaned up.”

“Do you work here?” You asked as he escorted you to one of the upper floors. The room was surprisingly clean and well decorated. You had expected a dingy highway motel. And while the room was largely dark wood and rich colors, it wasn’t as offensive as the rest of hell had been.

“Ah! My my, forgive me! I am Alastor, the radio demon and hotel manager here.” He bowed and offered his hand for you to place yours in. You did so without thinking, and he kissed your knuckles once but his mouth lingered over your flesh. Eyes half lidded, he glanced back up at you, “It is an absolute pleasure to meet you.”

There was no way to reverse Cupid’s arrows. Not by force. Love could only die by the hands of the ones who held it. Others could definitely bruise it, but ultimately it was up to the beholder. Mania was a little different, obsession could be dispelled by shattering whatever illusion the holder felt.

If the holder thought someone was the epitome of genteel chastity then a show of wanton sexuality could break the spell. If someone was convinced the object of their desire was very smart and savvy then acting ignorant could make the obsession fall flat. But there was no indication he had any illusions of you. Not yet, atleast.

Mania was now his, and he would keep it in his heart until he lost it or killed it. He could, technically, be possessed by, and be in the possession of, Mania for eternity. A sinner had never been shot before, that you knew of.

He didn’t noticeably react as you took back your hand. With a hum, he snapped again and you found a chair pulled up behind you and knocking into the back of your knees. You fell into the plush armchair, watching a metal basin of steaming water slide against your feet.

“Excuse you— ExcUU-,” you pulled your legs back but he pulled harder, Alastor removing your dirty shoes and tossing them off to the side like trash.

“You can't clean yourself with that broken collar bone. Allow me.” His hand gripped your ankles and dunked both into the water, “I insist.”

“It’s broken? How could I break a collarbone…,” the humor wasn’t lost on you, sinner washing holy feet, but your focus was entirely on the concept of a broken bone. 

“Falling twenty five feet head first, apparently.” Alastor rubbed soap into your calves.

“But I don’t break.” What happened to you, what had that kick into hell done? “You saw me? Also, that isn’t dirty.” you pointed at your calf.

“Peripherally.”

Did he mean the dirt or witnessing the fall? You sat in silence while he hummed, returning your feet to their original color. 

“Now,” he rose, patting his hands dry on a small towel, “Unbutton your top.”

Your expression was apparently quite loud, Alastor putting his hands up quickly, “Not like that. I’ve no interest in that sort of thing. I need to see your shoulder and upper chest.” He waited patiently, staring at you the entire time. His smile was so wide, teeth yellow and sharp. Unsettling. 

He really did look like he could eat you. You’d heard of such demons.

You slipped off the straps of your overalls, and began to open your shirt. He did away with the water, coming to kneel directly to your right as he watched. You couldn’t see anything without some kind of mirror. If it was bruised or swollen, it was out of your line of sight. Long clawed hands came to the front and back of your shoulder, pressing inward. You pulled away, a firm grip now as his right hand held at the left side of your waist.

“Are you a doctor?” Hotel manager and doctor would be an unlikely combo, but the day had been odd from start to finish.

A shake of the head, “But when I was alive, I did have quite a lot of experience with the inner workings of anatomy.” You grimaced, how could he say such sinister things with such a lovely voice? “Maybe not broken. But I’d say at least a fracture. Perhaps your heavenly body didn’t take full damage. It hurts when you move your arm, correct?” You nodded. 

He hummed, another click of his fingers and a fabric unfurled into his waiting hands. “Take it all the way off so I can set this.”

You were exhausted. The pain was gnawing at your nerves. No more fight in you, you just wanted rest, so you slipped off the shirt entirely and let him wrap your arm up into a simple sling. You were surprised his hands were so warm. Demons seemed like they’d be cold to the touch. Like lizards or pearls.

When he finished, you sitting in the large chair with your arm wrapped in a silky black sling, no shirt, and pastel purple heart-shaped overalls folded down your torso, you considered having another cry. You felt your chin tremble. You couldn’t recall ever crying from sadness before today.

It was just a mistake. You hadn’t meant to drop your arrow. Why were the archangels so angry? What’s some sex between nuns? 

Alastor bristled, hand coming to your cheek. It was an unwelcome gesture. You batted his hand away with your only free one, but he just sighed and set it on your thigh. You pushed it off, shooting him a glare. The audacity.

You thought you saw his eye twitch.

With what little energy was left in, you stood and open the door for him, “You have been very kind and helpful. Thank you very much. You can leave now.” Oh, right, “Please.”

He stood, pausing as he passed you. He was so tall. Shoulders wide. You felt your heart rate pick up. Even with two good collarbones you knew you couldn’t take him in a fight.

Alastor leaned down to your level, you backing up and into the door, “Until the morning.”

When he said it you had thought he was just going about formalities. But he wasn’t. You awoke some hours later to a knock. When you opened the door he was looming in your doorway again.

You tried to close the door but he put his foot in the gap, then a strong hand wrapped around the door’s edge and he pushed his way into the room.

You sputtered, arm flailing a little as you choked on which reaction to give first. You were undressed, in just your under things.

“I don’t want you to hurt yourself further when you get dressed. I’ll undo the sling and help.” Closing the door he then spun back around to face you, smile as bright as it was earlier that same day. 

“No! Absolutely not! Leave! Please!”

As he guided your arm through the shirt, you struggled to process what had happened. One minute you were indignant and stubborn and then he was so close to you, hands warm and gentle, and then already he was untying the sling and your shirt was just there and-

“See? Wasn’t that easy? No harm in accepting help.” Alastor looked you over from top to bottom.  

“Accepting? What part of any of that did I accept.” You stood bottomless in a button up, trying to get the overalls from the hanger with just your left hand. His chest pressed into your back, nearly forcing you to fall into the armoire, to assist you.

“The part where you didn’t actively fight me. I think we can call that acceptance until you learn better.” His words shook through your ribs and to your front. 

Annoyance rose in your chest, what was he thinking? Humans had no right to touch you let alone a sinner. “You’re an eldritch horror, please back away from the divine creature before you.” Alastor laughed, backing away with the clothes in his hands. Hand out, you motioned for him to pass it over. He tossed it on the floor, and took a seat on the bed with crossed legs. “Oh, I see. You’re an asshole. Perfect.” Pretense gone, manners not needed.

You grabbed it with your left hand and managed to get both legs into it before slinking it up and onto your left shoulder. While you tried to figure out how to do the right side, realizing the flaw in your order of processes, Alastor leaned over and unhooked the left strap, overalls falling to the carpet with a soft thud. 

You stood there for several moments, staring at him with purple fabric pooled around your ankles, him staring at you with a shiteating grin.

After finally getting dressed, preferring to not think about how, you were followed down to the lobby. 

“Breakfast?” He asked, you both in the elevator as he hadn’t gone more than three feet from you since he entered your bedroom. 

“No, no appetite. I need to find Lucifer.” You were sure he could help somehow. Somehow he could do….something. Details about Lucifer’s powers and abilities, his strengths and skills were all kept hush-hush. But if nothing else, you could find someone who understood your position. 

Your hand was being vigorously shaken before the elevator doors even closed behind you. Charlie Morningstar was not what you expected.  Chipper and bright, she was bursting with energy. 

“Gentle, Charlie. Our dear Cupid is injured.” Alastor’s hand came to the small of your back. You reached back with your left hand and knocked it off of you. 

“Like, the real actual cupid?!” Charlie’s eyes were shining, you could almost see the hearts floating up around her face. You felt Alastor’s hand again, now on your hip. You took three steps to the right, slipping from his fingertips.

“Yes, that is exactly what I-.” You were cut off, Charlie launching into a speech about sinners and heaven and redemption and so much more you couldn’t process. 

The energy she gave us was very angelic, which was confusing. Until you saw her father entering the common area.

The most hated creature in all of creation. Your best hope for a tiny sliver of comfort. 

Alastor’s hand reached for yours, fingers trapping your wrist and stopping you from approaching the king of hell. 

You shook your arm. His hold stayed. You tugged. He was unaffected, talking to Charlie now about your injury as if you weren’t right there. 

As Cupid, or at least as a cupid, you weren’t physically strong. You really weren’t meant to exist for a long time, just for as long as your body held up to repeated trips to the human realm. But, in heaven, you were never capable of being harmed. And of course, on earth, you weren’t really corporeal so no harm could come to you. You weren’t built for tug of war with a 7 foot tall demon.

“Mr. Devil! Sir!” You waved your foot, shouting out to the normal sized man. As he saw you, his eyes widened, “Hello there! Sorry to be a bother, I’m from heaven and-” You jerked your hand free, power walking to Lucifer, “I’m here on punishment. It’s a pleasure to meet another member of Elysium’s caretakers. Former or otherwise.”

Flustered, Lucifer fumbled with his phone before dropping it. “Oh! Shit! H-hello!”

You reached down to retrieve it for him, seeing black and red shoes behind you as you did. 

“What — why are you here?” Lucifer was looking at Alastor now, which was great news because for a second you thought he was talking to you. A sneaking feeling leaked into your chest that heaven hadn’t actually told him you were coming. 

“Just keeping an eye on my guest! As you can see she got injured and I’ve taken to the task of her safety while she’s in hell.” 

“No one asked him to do that, sir.” Your smile was strained, you could feel Alastor’s shoulder was touching yours. You looked to where you were connected and then back to Lucifer, “Are all sinners like this?”

“Honestly? Yes. They’re all pretty terrible.” Lucifer sighed, “What did you do?”

A cold sweat, “Misused an arrow. I can’t leave hell until I make a demon who doesn’t already believe in true love…believe in it.”

“Oh no! That’s— you’re gonna be here awhile.” Lucifer pulled at his collar in a mock attempt to release the awkward heat of the conversation. He saw you wither, and Alastor seemed to bloom, so he quickly changed pace, “But! Uhhh, you can totally do it! Charlie has some of the best of the worst here. If I can ever help, just ask!” Nervous laughter that did not put you at ease. He seemed so silly. So sweet and easily flustered. 

You felt your hope dash for a second time in less than a day. How long would you be in hell? How long was awhile?

“She is my responsibility now. She won’t be needing anything from you, your majesty.”

A darkness came over you as the two demons began to bicker. You now had your own obsessed shadow; a large and creepy sinner following you around. How on earth could you get close enough to a demon to complete your task? Convincing someone of true love would require trust and time. This would be impossible with Alastor attached to your side. 

You spent the first week in hell in the hotel. Everytime you got the courage to leave and explore the areas outside, you’d find yourself shadow portaled “back to safety” by Alastor. It was like the human film ‘Groundhog Day’, always starting over back in the lobby. 

No matter where you went in the hotel, he was either beside you or where you had been headed. You saw the sky less often than Alastor’s grin and you couldn’t stand it. You took to hiding, leaning against darkened stairwell corners and sitting on the floor of the ladies restroom. 

It bought you a little time to yourself, but the second you moved he was there again. Asking if you were a lost little doe, hand reaching for your waist to pull you near him, red eyes threatening to swallow you whole.

Toward the end of the week, while helping you get dressed as he did daily, Alastor took a step back. “I could get you some new clothes. Cannibal town has the finest duds.” He lifted the lace that lined the top of your  pocket, “You stick out. No demon is going to let you trick them into believing in true love like this.”

You could have screamed. No, no demon would even approach you with Alastor standing behind you. It absolutely wasn’t the clothes. You politely rejected the offer and went about your day.

The next morning you awoke to find your floor littered with strips of something. Flinging open the armoire you found two empty hangers. You turned back, noticing the white and purple color to the fabric confetti.

The march to Alastor’s room was easy, as it was 10 feet in front of your door. He had placed you directly across from him, because, ya know, Mania.

He clearly hadn’t expected you to leave your room in your underwear, eyes like saucers as he yanked you in.

“What in heaven are you doing?! Anyone could see you.” He hissed, closing the door with a little too much force.

“Whose fault is that?!” You seethed in return. Anger was something you rarely ever felt but he was inspiring new things in you. “Someone shredded my clothes.”

Alastor’s ears folded back, eyes looking to the left and up, “Odd. Are you sure? Maybe you accidentally threw them away.” That devilish grin you’d come to expect. He knew damn well how stupid that was.

You stomped your foot, if you had two working hands you’d try to rip his antlers off, “Are you serious?!” You turned to leave, kicking the door before attempting to open it.

A large hand pressed back on the door, slamming it shut. His breath was dropping down the back of your neck despite his considerable height, “You will not be leaving this room in such a state of undress, my dear.”

His voice was so low and close, had anyone ever spoken to you with such a commanding tone? A new feeling twitched in you. You blocked it out.

“You don’t get to make decisions for me,” said too softly.

His other hand came to press on the door, too. An arm to either side of you, trapped, as he leaned in. You pressed yourself against the door to make distance from his body.

“Oh, I absolutely do. Who is going to stop me? You?” Alastor’s voice had noticeably dropped an octave as he whispered what felt like a challenge against your hair.

Who indeed…you had no strength, an arrow would either be useless or complicate things. Lucifer seemed preoccupied and jittery. Heaven wasn’t returning your prayers.

He took your silence as an answer.

“Exactly. Now, I’ll only ask nicely once.” His hands left, warmth on your neck fading. You turned to look at him, sensing his eyes burning holes into your back.

He was holding a two piece set. Older style, 1920s American maybe. Black and burgundy. When did he have time to get this when every hour seemed to be spent near you?

“May I help you get dressed?”

You’d gotten quite close with the few residents who didn’t run at the sight of Alastor. Husk was one of them. You became fast friends, often drinking and lamenting about Alastor’s general existence as Alastor sat some 15 feet away on the sofa. Still not allowed outside the hotel gates, your second week you spent many hours at the bar talking to the surprisingly kind grump.

To your delight Alastor didn’t seem bothered by it, oddly, as long as you were in eyesight he seemed content.

You thought maybe his mania was already waning. Sure you hadn’t attempted to leave the hotel, and you hadn’t argued when he dressed you, but…Ah, hm. Fuck.

Mania can look like Love when you don't struggle against it. A fly motionless in a web can elude the spider for a little bit.

Don't push against the restraints and you can forget they are there entirely.

But push you did, accidentally. Husk was making some new cocktails, trying to enjoy himself and be creative. 

“Yeah, that’s it.” He grinned.

“Good?” 

He took another sip before handing the glass to you. You grabbed it, taking a taste. Sweet but a bite as it went down. Something with citrus. When you looked up from the glass, he was gone.

A choking noise from behind the bar made you stand up in your seat, eyes flying from Husk to Alastor. A glowing green leash dragging Husk across the floor, his hands desperately pulling at the collar as he struggled to breath. 

“Stop!” You shouted, crawling over the bar and grabbing the chain with your good arm. You tried to pull back, to slow the choking force, but got pulled along with it. “Alastor!” You screamed as your shoulder hit the floor and sent searing pain down your arm. 

You could hear Husk gasp, the green glow disappearing from past your clenched eyelids. 

“Why can’t you-,” Alastor started to speak a he came to your side. Husk scurried away, crawling back from the demon. You hit the hand Alastor offered you but were surprised to see his face painted with concern.

“I said stop.” After rolling to your feet you began to march away. “Every time I find something nice in this piece of shit domain you remind me I’m in hell.”

You had almost made it to your room when a hand pulled you by the good shoulder and pushed you against the wall. It still hurt. 

“Don’t you know? Sharing a drink, it’s as close to a kiss as you could get without bringing your mouth to his.”

“It was a drink, Alastor. You had no right.”

His hand settled on your throat. No grip, just a gentle placement, “I have every right.” His brows knit together in worry, in confusion. “What should I do to make you understand me?” His hand came to your chin, thumb ghosting over your lips.

“If I let you go too far, someone will surely take you. Who wouldn’t? Please. Stop pushing me so much.” His eyes were almost loving as they shined down at you. His breath was picking up. You could hear the desperation in his voice. 

Those damned eyes were unrelenting in their stare into your own. There was no creature in presence or audacity in heaven like Alastor. You’d never encountered anything like him. 

“Of all the Love you had to take a stray hit from, Mania really was the cruelest accident.” You held your hand at the crook of your neck, wondering if you did more damage. No, if he did more damage.

“Mania? Is that the arrow I caught? How fitting.” His finger pulled down on your bottom lip. You’d seen this movie, you’d been there for these scenes in dorm rooms and under rainy awnings, in darkened beds and sunny fields. You could move, no part of him was actually holding you physically. “Yes, maybe I am obsessed. But whose fault is that? Will you take responsibility for it?” His chest was shaking with every breath. Why didn’t you move? Just walk away. Knock off that touch as you had been doing. You hadn’t noticed how quickly you were breathing, too, until his hand was pulling your chin up and towards his face.

It only came out as a whisper, half said as it was only half meant, “don’t.”

A laugh, “At least pretend you mean it.” 

Your knees came together in some desperate attempt to stop the feeling creeping up your legs and to your lap, “Apologize to Husk.”

“Why would I ever do such a thing?” His breath was so warm on your mouth, face tilted to keep his nose from hitting yours.

“What a terrible reply!” You slid down the wall and slipped under his arms, “If you shadow work your way into this room I will fuck that horny spider on camera just to spite you.” You opened your door, pausing to make sure he was still down the hall, “Angel on Angel, working title.”

Your whole body went slack, the sounds of a wild animal loose in the hallway rocking the door as you took shaky steps to the bed, paintings on the walls rattling as he did unseen damage. Sounds of an unknown, unholy animal raging just past the thin drywall. 

Had you ever seen Mania work so quickly with so little fuel? Hand coming to your mouth, a burning where his finger touched you. 

No one had touched your lips before. No one could ever hope to. Humans were beyond the realm of feeling you, and you didn’t allow kissing with the partners you took in heaven. Personal rule. As in, it was too personal.

The lights in your room flickered, briefly shrouding you in darkness before coming back to life.

Deja vu.

Oh.

What had he introduced himself as? The radio demon? It wasn’t heaven who brought you to the hotel. Of course not. 

No. Obviously not.

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@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 ,

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🏹Alastor stalkers: @celestial-vomit , @amurtan

@faeoffaith , sailorsmouth , @jeannyjaykaydeh , @jyoongim , @cosmic-lavender , @saturn-alone , @lustylita , @radio-darling , @kaylopolis , @dickmastersworld , @leviskittywh0re

[twirlyleafs]

“Gold-digger.”

Max Verstappen x reader

TW: Angst, arguing I guess

A/N: I’m in such a drought I need requests </3

~~~~

It had been a good weekend. A great one even. The weather had been nice, no rain but not too warm, and not one single DNF which had just about everyone feeling happy. Just a few hours ago you cheered for your boyfriend as he took the steps up to the top of the podium, giggling slightly as he sent you a wink from his high position. You never got tired of seeing Max win, you loved it. Loved how hardworking he was and loved that it gave result. Loved to see him happy. You also most definitely didn’t mind the adrenaline he still had coursing through his body when the two of you got back to the hotel, having him press you up against the shower wall with quick and hard thrusts. Looking at the two of you right now, smartly dressed and sitting on opposite sides of the big table surrounded by your friends, no one could imagine the whimpering mess you’d been just a while ago. You smiled as you watched Max across the table, one hand holding his beer as the other was cupped around Daniel’s ear. By the giant grin on Danny’s face you knew Max was whispering gossip to him and you couldn’t help but let out a breathy laugh. All around the table people seemed happy, relaxed, and since it was three weeks until the next GP you all found it necessary to both celebrate a good race weekend and the well-deserved upcoming break.

“You think she’d be with me if I wasn’t rich?” You snapped out of your own thoughts, eyes trailing back to your boyfriend. He seemed to be in the middle of some sort of jokey rant, the glimmer in his eye tipping you off to the fact that he was slightly tipsy. Max nodded to you with a grin as the table laughed. “No way man.” You rolled your eyes but chuckled along. Tipsy Max always pulled stupid jokes but because he was so disgustingly adorable everyone was fine with it.

“Shut up Max.” You pointed your fork at him and he grinned, winking back. For a moment the table seemed to move on to other topics but somehow it ended with Max once again saying something about your relationship. He claimed that he didn’t only have his career to thank Redbull for, they had helped him land you too. This time you couldn’t shrug off the feeling that his words were deeper than just a silly comment and you felt the need for him to finally say he was joking. When he dropped a third comment you pushed your brows together, having had enough, and called him out.

“Max.” Your voice had him shifting his gaze to you, the smile still evident on his face. He raised an eyebrow when he saw the sudden frown on your face. “Are you serious?”

“What?”

“You don’t think we’d be together if you weren’t with Redbull?” You were in disbelief, not really comprehending what he was actually talking about. Joking about. Max only shrugged, sporting a carefree smile.

“Maybe if I drove for Ferrari too.” He joked, still keeping the conversation light.

“Not McLaren? That wouldn’t be good enough?” Lando spoke up from the other end of the table and when Max answered with an exaggerated frown and shake of his head everyone once again started laughing. You didn’t. You watched your boyfriend, the big smile on his face as he joked about your relationship making you feel sick. Was he even joking? Or did he actually sincerely believe that the two of you wouldn’t be a couple, that you wouldn’t date him, if he wasn’t rich? It took Max a few moments before his gaze landed on you again, the grin simmering down when he saw the look on your face.

“Are you serious?” You asked again, even though you were starting to realize you wouldn’t like the answer. Max just chuckled and you felt your heart crack at the prospect of him actually thinking you were with him for the money. With a hard swallow you leaned back in your chair, focusing your gaze down into your wineglass as the table moved on.

The rest of the night you did your best to keep up, forcing smiles and laughs even though you wanted nothing else than to sink through the floor. Max didn’t seem to notice. You took note of who payed for dinner, Charles, and made sure you transferred him your share the second you and Max got back to the hotelroom. You had never done that before, no one had, because one of the guys usually offered to take the tab and Max had told you they basically took turns paying. It had never crossed your mind before, but after tonight’s conversations it felt important to pay for yourself.

“Liefje?” Max called from the bedroom as you stood in front of the bathroom mirror, removing your makeup. He popped his head through the door a second later, a slight frown on his face. “Chuck is asking why you’re sending him money?”

“Because he paid for dinner.” You answered simply, swiping a cotton pad across your cheeks. Max huffed.

“So?”

“So I’m paying for what I ate. And drank.” You paused to look at him through the mirror. When he still sported a questioning pout you sighed. “Don’t want him to think we’re just friends because he’s rich.” It took Max a moment to process your words, connecting them to earlier that night. When he did he couldn’t help but chuckle softly.

“You’re mad about that whole thing?” He asked and it honestly chocked you that he could be so surprised about it. When you broke the eye contact, moving back to start moisturizing your face, he let out another breathy laugh. “Seriously y/n?”

“You’re an asshole Max.” You muttered. Max shuffled closer to you. Even though you were annoyed, mad even, you didn’t stop his hands from smoothing over your hips. You watched his smile through the mirror but didn’t reciprocate it.

“Don’t be mad about that.” He cooed, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. In moments like this you hated that he knew exactly how to make you break. You felt your anger slowly subside when he kneaded his fingers into the skin above your hips, lips still pressing warm kisses against your bare skin. You had almost forgotten how upset you were until he spoke up again. Max had placed his lips just against your ear, something that would usually make you shiver in a good way. Now it had your skin burning hot in anger instead. “I don’t mind paying for you, I like that you like it.”

In a millisecond you had pushed him away, quickly turning to look at him instead. “Are you fucking serious?”

“What?

“I don’t like that you spend your money on me. That’s not why I’m with you, I- how can you even say that? I would love you even if you worked at a fucking gas station.” You were frustrated now, even more so when you saw Max roll his eyes. He obviously still thought you were being dramatic, that this whole thing was kind of amusing.

“Oh let’s be real, we wouldn’t be together if I wasn’t driving in f1 and you weren’t a model. Drivers date models and we do that because we have money, it’s not more complicated than that.” He said it so casually, leaning his hip against the sink. You stared at him, eyes wide and lips slightly parted. It had been bad enough to know that he thought you used him, but now he’s admitting to only dating you for your looks and your work and suddenly everything felt ten times worse.

“You’re only with me because I’m a model, is that what you’re saying?” You asked slowly, impressed with yourself for keeping your voice steady and the tears at bay. Max shook his head.

“That’s obviously not what I mean, but-“

“Because in that case you can find someone else to spend your precious money on. I’m sure you can pay some hotter girl to be your girlfriend if that’s what you think a relationship is supposed to be like.” Your words were sharp and you saw his face drop just before you turned around, walking out of the bathroom. You immediately went to your suitcase, throwing it up on the bed. Max was quick to follow, stopping you from opening it with a strong hand on top.

“That’s not what I meant.” He repeated, finally seeming to understand the seriousness in his earlier words.

“But it’s what you said. It’s what you’ve been saying the whole night actually. You believe that we’re in some sort of business with each other where I get to use your money and you get to, what? Be like your friends? Date a model? That’s making you feel cool?” You shoved his hand away from your bag, dragging the zipper all around it to open. “I believe -believed- that we loved each other and wanted to be together because we enjoy it. I guess there was some miscommunication.”

“No, no you’re twisting my words.” Max argued, dragging his fingers through his hair in a stressed demeanor while he watched you start to pack your stuff into the bag. “I’m not saying-“

“I think you’ve said enough tonight, actually.” Shoving your suitcase shut again you paused to look up at your boyfriend. Or whatever he was now. He stared at you with wide eyes, not knowing what to do. The situation had escalated too quickly for him to follow and now all of a sudden he was panicking. “I’m gonna knock on Danny’s door, see if I can sleep there. I would advise you to figure out how you see us because if I’m simply someone you think you’re buying to be with you I’m out.”

“Schatje-“ he began, reaching a hand out to touch you. You moved away, pulling your bag down on the floor.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

[sweetestdesire]

STUBBORN PRIDE

WARNINGS: absolutely none. Just some pure, sweet content.

PAIRING(S): Jack Hughes x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: in which Jack Hughes is too stubborn to let Fem!Reader peacefully sleep on the couch.

Jack Hughes was difficult to have arguments with. He was stubborn and never seemed to take things seriously and he never really listened to a word anyone said. Everything always went in one ear and out the other. Like when Y/N told him she’d be on the couch for the night so she could have space, for example. It seemed space was not a word in Jack’s dictionary, because he strolled into the living room with his hands in his pockets and his lips whistling a soft tune.

Y/N glared at him from her spot on the couch, watching as he stopped a few feet before her. There was a smooth grin on his face, almost like he had plastered it on for appearance’s sake, like it masked the true nature of his feelings as he hid them with that usual unbothered smile of his.

“Is there room for one more?”

“No.” Y/N said bluntly, promptly turning away to face her back to him. She didn’t have to look back to know his face was curled into that pout of his, the dangerous one that did too good of a job of convincing her to give him his way.

“Okay, fine.” Jack huffed, and then she heard the soft thud of his body settling on the floor, making her itch to turn and peek over the edge of the couch.

Y/N succeeded at ignoring for him for approximately thirty seconds before the curiosity got the better of her and she swallowed her pride and took a quick look. sure enough, he laid curled on the hardwood floor, limbs awkwardly sprawled as he stared up at her with innocent eyes.

"What are you doing?" Y/N furrowed her eyebrows, and he stared at her like she’d asked a silly question, and maybe she had. Being hard to get rid of had always been Jack’s specialty, and she should’ve known better by now that retiring to the couch was never enough to retire from him.

"I’m going to sleep. What does it look like I’m doing?" Jack said like it was obvious. She almost smacked him with her pillow for his tone, but she had half a mind not to. It was the perfect opportunity for him to steal it, and it wasn’t her problem he forgot the single most important thing when it came to sleeping.

"Well, why here?" Y/N scowled, making him shrug as he settled his hands behind his head and looked up to the ceiling.

"Seems like a good spot to sleep if you ask me.” He said casually. “Nice hard floor to cushion my back, cool breeze of the air conditioning to keep me cold, and the clock ticking in my ear to keep me up. Sounds like the perfect place, eh? And if I get bored, we even have a TV.”

"I let you have the bed, you idiot.” She pursed her lips.

"Who needs a bed when I can sleep on the hardwood floor next to my sweet, pretty girl?”

Y/N cut him off before he could finish, feeling the last possible vein she could preserve while dating a man like Jack Hughes pop. "Well, then I’m going to use the bed if you won’t.” She sat up, grabbing her pillow and blanket.

And because he’s Jack Hughes, the bane of her existence and the sole cause of all her headaches, he sat up, too. "Good idea, baby. Let’s go.”

"No. You stay here, and I’ll take the bed."

"Okay.” Jack hummed, still not making any moves to lay back down.

Y/N quickly realized this wasn’t a battle she could easily win with him and she rolled her eyes, shoulders slumping in defeat as she glared down at him. Jack looked up at her with that same innocent look, those same wide eyes that blinked up at her like they couldn't possibly do any wrong.

"You do realize I’m not sharing the bed with you just because you're stubborn, right?" Y/N asked dryly.

Jack grinned, that familiar glint in his eyes that always meant trouble. “Well, I never said anything about taking the bed, now did I?”

"Jack, you can't possibly mean sleeping on the floor next to the bed.”

"It’s technically not the bed.” He insisted. “All you said is you're not sleeping with me. You never said anything about near me."

"Okay, I don't want to sleep near you.” She scowled.

"Nuh-uh, no way.” He shook his head. “You can't add rules now. It’s far too late."

"Jack, I swear to fucking God.”

"So, what'll it be? Bed or couch?"

"I hate you.” Y/N grumbled, settling back down on the cushions of their living room couch, back once more facing him. She could hear his body softly settle back onto the floor again, and after a few beats of silence, he spoke up again.

"Can I use your blanket? I’m cold."

"No."

"C’mon, just toss half of it over the edge, I’ll scoot over. We can make it work somehow.”

"Are you intentionally trying to piss me off?" Y/N snapped as she sat up, glaring down at him once more.

Jack Hughes was difficult to have arguments with. He was stubborn and annoying and so stupidly handsome. He made her eyes soften before she could help it as they grazed over his messy hair and the soft glow of his lip balm. He made her anger ebb away slowly no matter how hard she tried to latch onto it just from that toothy grin of his. He made her forget they were arguing and that she should be mad when she noticed the soft, gentle traces of love in his eyes.

So, Y/N blinked as she watched him, letting out a quiet sigh as he shook his head and offered her a small, innocent smile, one that told her he loved her, that he wasn’t mad, and that he'd wait on the cold, hard floor with no pillow and blanket for her as long as he needed to.

"No.” Jack chuckled. “No, I’d never want to make you mad. You’re scary when you get mad.”

"That’s rich, coming from someone who’s supposed to be a big, strong hockey player.” Y/N muttered, making him laugh softly. And she wasn’t mad anymore, not as much as she was just a bit ago. Maybe it was because she loved him too, even despite the way he made her veins pop, and her patience thin, and her head ache with that aggravating personality of his. Maybe that's what love was, when even the bad and the ugly were part of the good.

"Behind every strong man is an even stronger woman.” He cheekily remarked, his grin never fading.

"Just come here.” Y/N groaned, scooting over to make room for him on the couch.

Jack didn’t need to be told twice. He didn’t even waste a single moment as if he'd been expecting it all this time as he climbed in beside her and pulled her into his chest. It was cramped and slightly uncomfortable as her legs dangled over the edge and her pillow barely fit under both of their heads, but his body was warm and his arms held her tight and she could faintly make out the thrum of his heart against her body. Maybe it wasn’t so bad, not if it was with Jack.

"Did you miss me too much?" Jack wriggled his eyebrows, pouting when she shoved his face away as he leaned in for a kiss.

"You still haven't earned kisses back yet.” Y/N grinned. “Goodnight, Jack."

"But I can't sleep without a goodnight kiss.” Jack pouted, softly nudging her with his shoulder.

"I love you.” Y/N cut him off with a giggle. Jack Hughes was difficult to have arguments with, but she thought that she won this time.

[aurorawritestoescape]

RIBBON || Joel Miller x f!reader || 1k

Summary: Joel wants you to come without touching yourself.

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, pwp, Joel is strict but fair, unprotected piv, bondage, size kink, praise kink, a drop of degradation

A/n: I saw these two pics on Pinterest side by side and couldn’t shake off the thots. Pics for mood only, reader has no physical descriptions. Kisses to @milla-frenchy for beta-ing💖 Hope you all will enjoy🎀

MASTERLIST

*****

“Joel, please,” you whine wriggling on the bed, legs spread around his hips. “I can’t, I need someone to touch my clit!”

He’s fully clothed, jeans unzipped and pulled down to the mid thigh while you’re completely naked, your tank top and shorts discarded on the floor by Joel’s impatient hands.

“The fuck ya mean ‘someone’?” He growls looming over your face, his cock buried deep in your cunt. You squeak pathetically when you see him clench his jaw.

“I mean you or me. I can’t come… you know, just from you fucking my pussy. It’s not you. I never could.”

“Hngg,” he growls and you nervously chew on your lip.

“I’ll touch myself a little, ‘k?” you ask as your hand inches closer and closer to your pulsating bud.

“The hell ya will.”

He pulls out and you see him reach for the nightstand and search for something in the drawer.

“Good…,” he mumbles before pulling a pink ribbon out.

“What are you…?” is all you have time to say until he grasps your wrists, pins them to the bed and starts tying them together, huffing over you. His hard cock smears precum over your belly, his delicious musk hits your nose and you clench around nothing when he cages you like that between his giant body and the bed.

When he’s done, he hovers over you with a satisfied smirk.

He gets back between your thighs as you bring your hands to your face and widen your eyes in surprise. The ribbon holds your wrists securely but doesn’t hurt you.

“It looks really pretty, Joel,” you say admiring his work.

“It ain’t for being pretty, sweetheart. It’s to stop your hands from touching your needy clit. You’re comin’ just from my cock tonight. Nothing else.”

You furrow your brows and pout your lips, placing your bound hands on your naked chest but he grabs them and pins them over your head.

“Ready for your training?” Joel asks you, his dark eyes searching your features for any trace of discomfort.

“Do your worst,” you smile at him and spread your legs a little wider.

You’d expect another man to hammer into you immediately, trying to hit anything that can make you come. But not Joel.

“Breathe for me, sweetheart,” he asks you, nudging your wet hole with his fat head, and then slowly pushes it in, deeper and deeper, making your folds spread around his girthy cock. Your moan is needy and lustful.

He bottoms out and groans looking down at the place where his cock disappeared inside your greedy hole.

“Fuck, ya have a perfect pussy, baby. Look at her takin’ all of my cock so good.”

Joel slowly pulls out almost to the tip and you feel your walls clench around his fat head, not letting it go. His eyes dart attentively between yours, reading your reaction, as he slowly buries his length into you again.

“She’s not perfect”, you whine, “I wanna come on your cock and be a good girl for you. But I can’t.”

Your insecurity is soon alleviated by his warm smile, full of love and affection.

“She is. Just needs a little help.”

“Like your thumb on my clit?” You purr with an innocent smile.

Joel chuckles.

“No, baby. She needs to be fucked right. Does she want that?”

“Yeah,” you breathe out, your cunt melting around his cock. His tip kisses your cervix and you softly whimper, as your nails dig into your sweaty palms.

Joel groans, then leans lower and kisses you. His taste intoxicates you, his tongue possessive, lips skilful and soft.

When his lips leave you, he stills his thrusts and looks deep into your hazy eyes. You whimper, feeling his length throb deep inside you.

Then he rolls his hips and starts gradually increasing the pace. You’re moaning and chewing on your lip feeling the climax closer and closer. His tip rubs against something so pleasant that you’re dripping on the sheets, your body sweaty with the heat radiating from him. Albeit dancing on the precipice, you still can’t seem to take the final leap.

“Joel, please, just graze it, just a little,” You plead with a desperate need in your voice, eyes glossy with tears of frustration. You wiggle your hands, trying to free yourself from his grip but he’s unyielding, the ribbon held tightly by his thick fingers.

“Shh.. I said ya gonna come like this, sweetheart. Now lie still and let me make ya feel good. ‘k?”

You nod and he pulls out, grabs a pillow next to your head and sits on his heels between your thighs.

“Lift ya sexy ass for me.”

You do as you're told and he pushes the pillow under your butt, raising your hips.

Then he stands on his knees between your thighs and throws your legs over his shoulders. With his hand wrapped around his cock, he pushes it into your soaked hole again. It slides in easily, his length, your folds are all covered in your juices, and the sensation is so much brighter in this position, a gasp leaves your lips.

He starts fucking you, his strokes hard and deep. No one has ever made you feel this good. With each thrust, you say his name like a prayer, devotion in your breathy voice. You’re looking up at him like he’s your god. And he is at this moment.

“Yeah, baby. Bet your little fingers can’t make you feel this good, huh? Singing beautifully on my big cock. She’s gonna choke me soon, I can feel it.”

You nod with half-lidded eyes, lips parted, drunk on the sensation of his hot member massaging your walls just right, and he barks a laugh,

“You’re so cock drunk, baby. Not a single thought behind your pretty eyes.”

You have no power to object, why would you? He’s right. All of you is focused on his cock fucking into your soaked pussy.

Joel slows down dragging his tip against your front wall and making you squeeze your eyes shut with pleasure.

“I feel it, Joel. So close. Please make me come, please,” You whine desperately, opening your blown eyes, legs trembling on his shoulders.

“I will, sweetheart”, he rolls his hips just right and you scream, clenching on his cock, your whole body shaking.

“That’s it…perfect little pussy,” Joel mumbles as his thrusts become erratic. He doesn’t stop when he begins emptying his heavy balls inside you, prolonging your orgasm with the jets of cum caressing the walls of your contracting pussy.

“Yeah…Keep milking my cock, baby…hnggg. Good girl.”

Wanting to be closer, you drop your legs, sit up, throw your tied hands around his neck and pull Joel to you, chest to chest. Nuzzling the crease of your neck he continues filling you with his warm cum, growling against your skin.

Joel stays on top of you for a few moments, big and broad, pressing you into the mattress with his weight. You kiss his cheekbone and whisper a loving ‘thank you.’

*****

Thank you for reading!💖

Please consider reblogging and commenting if you enjoyed the fic. Your feedback motivates me so much!🌺

Masterlist

Tag list: @milla-frenchy @harriedandharassed @survivingandenduring @missannfairy @iamasaddie @nervousmumbling @bbyanarchist @stevie75 @puduvallee @auteurdelabre @mountainsandmayhem @senoratess @flamingochick55 @theoraekenslover @schnarfer

If you'd like to be tagged in my future fics, let me know!💕

[thekeeperof-thefandoms]

I asked a few of my favorite hazbin writers this and only one answered and it was ok but I felt like it could have been expanded on so here's my take

Vox, Val, Alastor, and Lucifer react to your love language being baking/cooking

Vox

(Starting with him because he's the one thaf inspired this).

Vox came from the 50s and even though I firmly believe he is past all the ingrained gender roles and homophobia I think he still has some internalized misogyny. He wants to be viewed as the man in the relationship, the breadwinner, the provider. He can cook for himself but it's pretty basic food (except steak. Like every other man since the invention of the grill how to bbq has been hardwired into his brain. If his partner also grills ya'll fight over whose turn to cook out it is)

(Unrelated but as a lesbian who loves to grill, and is the designated grill bro, butch lesbians or cookout lesbians are some of Vox's favorite type of gays to chill with)

I firmly believe that's why even though he's a sub, it's so hard and would take time and trust to get him to let you top and enjoy it. He's so worried people will find out and judge him, that you'll judge him. His ego can be very fragile.

Especially if we go with the Vox used to be a cult leader theory. His power, image, and success are linked to his ability to appear in control. To appear to have all the answers and take responsibility. It's going to take a lot of time and patience to unravel all that and help him seperate his personal and professional image.

That being said, a partner who uses acts of service as a love language is perfect for him. He's a busy man, so he tends to be a gift giver type. The gifts are always well thought out and expensive. He wants it to be something you need, want, can get a lot of enjoyment from, and be worth the money spent, so he puts time and effort into them. Unless he's just showing off by giving you his card and telling you to go nuts.

So you taking time to make his coffee for him the way he likes, ordering lunch from his favorite places and having it sent to his office so he remembers to eat, or just texting him reminders to drink water or eat/take breaks throughout the day makes him giddy.

If you're his assistant or something, (and I believe Vox absolutely would have his partner working for him/with him), then it's even better when you take on extra work to try and help him. Organizing his schedule, sorting emails/mail, and proofreading things. Any small act you do for him, because you want to and care about him, makes his heart rate pick up.

It'll really make him overheat, glitching slightly, literal heart eyes, if he comes home after a shitty day and you're cooking for him.

His internal monologue is absolutely raving about what a good housewife you are for him, a hard working husband.

Bonus points if you cleaned too! Either way, he adores you even more now, letting you fret and coo at him, removing his jacket and tie, pouring him a drink and telling him dinner will be ready soon and you made his favorite. He's so tempted to bend you over the counter right now, but that would ruin dinner. After you guys eat though, he's having you for dessert. Man's gonna make sure you know how much he appreciates this by turning your knees to jello, good luck walking tomorrow, doll.

If you bake treats and bring them to VoxTek he's gonna brag so much. Literally the embodiment of John Mulaney's, "That's my wife!" If you bring them just for him, he's defending his treats like they're the last ones in Hell. He has literally hit Val with a fly swatter for even asking if he could have one.

(Unrelated but like, chubby vox maybe? You're cooking is too good)

Valentino

Val wishes he could cook better. He's some kind of latino, so I feel like the fact he can't cook very well is a sore spot culturally. He can make the salsa and chips and like, help with stuff, he knows how to wrap tortillas and tomales (I picture him as like Mexican or Puerto Rican but that's just cuz the town I grew up had a large Puerto Rican group).

It doesn't help that his eyesight is even more shit in Hell. He can't see what he's doing hald the time. It ruins his art hobby too. He's overall just more easily frustrated with his bad eyesight.

I don't imagine you guys dating per se. Maybe you're his sugar baby, maybe you're someone he hired to help him do stuff like clean and organize and you just sorta start doing other things to help him. (Again I'm not saying it excuses jackshit, but as someone who worked with bipolar people and people with mood disorder I kinda see the fan theory in him, either way I think all the Vees could be sort of trained to be better people, but especially Val. We already saw Vox do it.)

After all, he's usually in a much better mood if you do and that means less outbursts. The first few times you cook him something he teases you about being his housewife, tries to make it sexual. It's not really something he clocks as being an act of love because I don't think you'd realize it yourself at first. I think the more you got to see him when he wasn't stressed, lashing out, being abusive, you'd start catching feelings. ("I can fix him", delulu asses)

He loves to be in the kitchen when you cook once it starts becoming a regular thing. He can't see clearly what you're doing but the way you move around the kitchen and get what you need, even if you're an ADHD mess and do steps out of order or at random, he can tell you know what you're doing. He likes to smell the food too while it's cooking.

He will ask you to try and make some spicier/more traditional foods he grew up with, but he doesn’t remember all of the ingredients, and it just gets him more frustrated he can't tell you. If you look them up and surprise him with it it'll probably be the most genuine, human response you get from him.

He's shocked, silent, standing frozen in the penthouse as familiar smells waft around him. You present him a plate nervously, practically shaking hoping it's good enough. The first bite nearly puts him in tears. No one's done anything this nice for him? Why would you? Lowkey thinks you want something from him. It's gonna make him paranoid for a while so don't expect a verbal compliment but he eats it all.

Eventually though, one day when you're in the kitchen cooking, humming softly and swaying your hips, one set of his arms will wrap around your waist, the other reaching around you help with the salsa, or wrap a tamale, and he'll prop his chin on your head and mumble out thanks. Some praise, maybe. Would definitely tell you stories about eating these foods growing up.

It's the first step towards having an actual relationship with him.

Alastor

This man almost always insists on cooking. He isn't much of a sweet tooth either. You tell him one night you want to try cooking for him. Tell him you understand it's an activity he enjoys and relaxes too, (especially if you know it's something that reminds him of his mother), but you want to do something for him and this is one way you show you care.

It's gonna remind him of his Mama so much that if you didn't know why he loved cooking so much before you do now. He compromises. You pick the meal and gather the ingredients and do most of the cooking and he helps prep and does dishes.

He playfully critiques you the entire time about adding some spice too it or a little southern flair. Just smack him with the wooden spoon, gently. It's gonna make him laugh because his Mama used to do that when he wouldn't keep out of the sweets, or tried to add stuff to her cooking.

Once you start it becomes habit to help each other in the kitchen every night, trading off who cooks and who preps and does dishes.

If you do find baked goods he likes that aren't too sweet and send them to him as snacks, especially to Overlord meetings, he's so fucking obnoxious about his sweet little doe (doesn't matter if you are one or not) and how they spoil him. Especially rubs it in Vox's face (not him whining to his partner so they send him with treats too so he can also brag).

Only shares with Charlie, Rosie, Niffty, and sometimes Zestiel. If he's feeling generous, Husk can have a bite.

Low-key also has a thing for his partner behaving domestically even if he isn't exactly invested in traditional marriage.

Favorite activity though is dancing with you in the kitchen to jazz while dinner cooks, holding you close, in his room usually, so he can hear the sounds of the bayou. If he closes his eyes he can pretend this is how his life went and that his Mama is in the corner or sitting in her chair, watching him, happy to see him find someone.

He will literally kiss Vox willingly before admitting that last part though.

Lucifer

It's not that he can't cook, it's just....it's easier to just snap his fingers and make food appear. He's been in a depressed slump for decades man, he's lived off of the 'want food, no cook, only eat' mindset.

When you come into his life it's a complete overhaul. Despite what issues you have yourself you can recognize someone in worse state than you and immediately categorize and prioritize. First thing first, get this man's duck collection/obsession organized, thinned out, and under control.

Second, help him work through his issues with Lillith and Charlie. Encourage therapy, be a mediator between him and Charlie (and trust me she appreciates it. She knows her dad struggles, didn't know how bad, and still feels awkward). Help him socialize more, rebuild his connection with the other sins.

Get this man a work schedule!

Then it's on to personal habits. You help him get out of bed, you're both probably a little helpless in the sleeping on time category though. Help him get a routine again to keep out of his funk. Then you start cooking for him. It just happens naturally. You enjoy cooking, you enjoy showing people you love how much you care by providing good meals.

At first he's gonna resist and tell you he can handle that, you already do so much for him. He can cook or better yet he can just make it appear and you laugh and tell him it tastes better when it's made with love. He brushes it off as a joke too, you're both just being silly and obviously you said that to get him to quit fussing. Except, unholy hell does it actually taste so much better.

Lucifer hadn’t realized how bland and unsatisfying just materializing the food was. Maybe that's because he was so depressed and uninterested in what he ate, maybe not. Either way, your cooking is so much fucking better. He actually looks forward to eating now. If he gets caught up in work or has a bad day, you make sure to always bring him something, leaving it as an offering of sorts. It almost always works and entices him to eat at least once.

You cook, he does dishes, and he will not budge on that rule. He wants to be a fair man. He occasionally boots you out to do dessert, though. Apple pie is his bitch and you've never tasted one as good as his. He also makes good pancakes and some absolutely orgasmic angel's food cake.

Ironicall, devil's food cake is one of your go to recipes. Sometimes you both make a cake and take it to events just to watch people get confused as fuck when it's revealed the literal Devil did not make the devil's food cake.

Everyime you're in the kitchen together it's a disaster, you're both to silly and chaotic. You were making noodles one time and he threw flour at you so you smacked him with the noodle you were holding, leaving a line of flour and a speck of dough against his cheek. From there it escalates. It happens every time. Making cakes together, you're smashing frosting on each other. Making cookies, you're fighting each other to stop eating cookie dough.

Once, after you get fed up with him stealing her spatula to lick the chocolate off of, hovering above you with his wings, you pout and bat your eyes, asking him sweetly to please give it back. He swoops down in front of you, booping your nose to smear chocolate on it and leaning in to kiss you, letting you have a taste of the chocolate batter you were mixing for brownies. While his tongue is in your mouth, drunk off the taste of you and chocolate you smash an egg over his head and let out a triumphant cheer, snatching back your spatula.

He's so stunned his wings disappear and he drops the last few inches to the ground while you cackle. His heart is pounding, his ears are ringing, and his chest feels like it's gonna explode. His eyes are literal sparkles. He hasn't felt this much joy, wonder, and love since Charlie was born. It feels like witnessing creation all over again, of the breathlessness he felt when he first saw Lillith.

You're laughter stops when you realize he's just staring at you awestruck and you smile, asking if he's ok.

"For once...yeah..Yes. I'm ok." He responds, genuinely. You kiss his cheek and resume baking. He watches you from the counter now, dreamily, thinking about how he's gonna marry you someday.

[ang311ic]

Post argument sex with Gaz

(Unedited, just wanted to write something after so long of having no ideas)

This man is stubborn, my baby doesn’t have many flaws (ignoring that he’s a war criminal) but he refuses admit he’s wrong. He also refuses to apologise because why would he apologise if he’s right? That’s a little harsh, he does end up apologising just with his dick instead.

The pair of you get in a stupid fight, something that was easily preventable but still ended up happening.

You’re pissed off with him, giving him the silent treatment and not even bothering to sleep in the same bed as him that night. You take your pillow and spend that night on the couch ignoring his protests.

You wake up to the feeling of someone’s lips against your neck and unless you have an insane stalker you weren’t aware of, it’s Kyle.

“What are you doing?” You mumbled groggily, not bothering to push him away in your sleep addled state. You don’t get a response instead you feel his calloused hand move down your stomach and slip under the band of your sweatpants. “Kyle-“

“Shhh. Let me make things better.” He murmurs and you’re unsure whether this is turning you on or making you want to slap him in the face. Your thought process was cut short when his fingers reached the soft cotton if your underwear, running them across your slit and making you gasp. You hated how good he made you feel but if there was one thing he was good at it was making you feel good.

“You like that?” He almost growled his face moving to rest against the crook of your neck, inhaling the intoxicating scent of you. His thumb moves to brush against your clit making your hips involuntary buck into his touch. “Getting so mad over nothing,” His tone so incredibly condensing, you can practically hear the smirk on his face. “Just need a good fuck to sort you out.”

“You’re an asshole.” You spit out though you don’t stop him when he pulls both of your pijamas off and slips your underwear to the side. His half-hard cock rubs against your pussy, collecting the slick over his head. “You don’t listen, you just brush me off, you’re never even here.” You rant though your words aren’t very effective, interrupted by harsh breaths of pleasure and stifled moans.

“I know, I know lovey.” He coos, almost sounding understanding and he was but you could discuss that later. He finally pushed his length inside you, groaning at the sensation of your tight velvety walls around him. His fingers find his way into your mouth, his index and middle slipping between your plump lips only allowing the sounds of your whines and moans to leave.

He fucks into you slowly, taking in every sensation. The feeling of your tongue against his fingers, the way you clench around him when he hits a spot that makes pleasure build in the pit of your stomach.

You had to remind yourself that you were mad but that was getting increasingly difficult with how he was making you feel. Your head fell back against his shoulder, a string of drool slipping down your chin and your chest rising and falling rapidly as your hips grinder against him to meet his thrusts. A mess. He’d turned you into a mess.

“You want to cum for me?” He asks like it was even a question to begin with. He removed his fingers from your mouth and rubbed his saliva drenched fingers against your clit once again, making you whine sharply in pleasure. “You want to feel good for me?”

“Y-yes,” you breathed out, trying to get your words out as quick as possible. “Please, please. I want it want it so bad.” You babbled, begging as of your life depended on it. The coil inside you felt like it was about to burst. You had forgot about the argument, had forgotten about your annoyance, you just wanted him, you wanted him to make you cum. With one more snap of his hips and circle of his index fingers, you break. You gush over his dick, unable to stop yourself from moaning his name loudly even if it was probably making him significantly more smug.

His hands tighten his hold one you. One arm wrapped around his waste and his other holding your jaw to keep you pressed up close against him. He helps you ride out your orgasm while also chasing his, pumping rapidly in and out of your fluttering cunt. “So good.” He praises, the words catching in his throat as his own pleasure builds. Even when the pair of you are arguing he always manages to let you cum first. “So, so fucking good for me.” He grunts as his load spills out into you, filling you up with his hot cum.

That night you feel asleep on the sofa with him still inside of you, snuggled close to each other. That morning Gaz wasn’t there, he was making coffee and when he arrived back to the living room he sat in the exact same place and discussed said argument. Communication!

[bitchimasnake-sss]

it got worse ft. choso kamo!

this is part two to my fic "just a distraction". so, i recommend that you read that first lol (but it can be read as a standalone too!)

set-up: after your plan to distract your academic rival backfired so hard, you don't have it in you to seek him out. well, is it a blessing or a curse when he decides he will seek you out instead then?

warnings: PORN WITH PLOT; nsfw thoughts includes cunnilingus, in public, dirty talking. mdni as always :)

"are you serious?" yuuta gave you a skeptical look.

"what?" you defended by hiding your face under a pillow and avoiding your friends' concerned looks.

"i'm sorry but it's the third day you're missing lecture. over a boy. who even are you?" maki continued where yuuta left off.

"she's lovesick, is what she is. or dicksic—" nobara quipped up next.

you threw the pillow at the source of her voice. then, slowly, you looked up at your three friends, who stood there as if observing an animal in the zoo. except this wasn't a zoo, it was your dorm room. and the animal under surveillance was you.

"this was all your plan!" you pointed at nobara accusingly.

"my plan was to go fuck choso's brain out so that you can get an edge over him in academics. my plan wasn't for you to develop a crush on his weird ass."

"i don't have a crush on him!" you tried to cool off your burning face by fanning it, "i just can't see him again. what am i gonna say?? hey choso remember the day i came over during break like a month ago and you went down on me? i can't fucking stop thinking about that or about you! what are your thoughts on that, choso hm?"

"well, when you phrase it so pathetically-"

yuuta cut off the green-haired athlete lest she say something downright stupid, "see, i am sure choso won't bring it up either. he hasn't made an effort to like text you or anything. it's been a whole month, i am sure he doesn't really care all that much?"

"ughh. how is that consoling to hear? that means whatever happened between us probably sucked."

"well you did suck—"

"—nobara!"

"point being." yuuta reasoned, "you need to go to class. gojo sensei is a serious drama queen. he'd probably mark your grade down because you're missing classes for seemingly no reason. and that'll affect your grades.

you groaned and yuuta continued, "just go to class. and if you see choso, avoid him. i am sure he won't come seeking you out."

"fine."

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

well, this was going okay, you guess? i mean, gojo sensei did 100% make weird jokes about your absence in front of the entire class but thus far, nothing else was amiss. choso was holed up in his regular seat near the window far to your left and hadn't been looking at you from what you could notice.

fuck. truly the only one getting distracted was you.

so, halfway through the lecture (that you couldn't pay attention to anyways), you decided you would confront choso and ask him why he didn't text you back or something.

so, you waited till class was over. standing outside the gate, you waited for the raven-haired man to come out so that you could confront him. but the moment he actually started coming towards the door, your feet took you by their own accord. you ran through the hallways and into the library.

that's right, maybe you should catch up on the studying you missed? self-study truly is the best study after all? and not like choso will come hunting you down here, in the library. so, you chose to go take a seat in your usual spot, the one farthest and where nobody came to disturb you.

sighing, you took our your laptop and notebook, setting it down on the table. you took a deep breath and decided you could deal with him when you were ready-

"why did you bolt off when you saw me?" choso asked as he dragged the chair next to you and sat down. he dropped something heavy on the desk and you noticed from the corner of your eye that it was the book you had taken over to his under the pretense of studying.

"thanks for the book. i forgot i left it at yours."

liar.

you had left it at his so you could go back and get it. and the day you went back, hopefully, choso would have remembered some of the steam and gotten you into his bed again.

but you never went and he never called.

"no worries. i was surprised how you would be able to do integrals without it." he stretched his limbs, muscles shifting under the thin material of his shirt. he then propped his right elbow on the wooden table. resting his face on his palm, he looked at you, "why were you missing lectures?"

"personal issues." you replied without looking away from your laptop screen. as if typing your assignment furiously will make him disappear into thin air.

"ah, okay. i thought you got sick or something."

if you were braver, you would have said it out loud. but you were a coward, so, you mumbled, "if you were so worried, you could have texted me or something."

you obviously didn't expect for him to hear that.

"we're not friends. it would have been awkward. what would have people thought if they realized i'm texting the second best student at uni?"

you whipped your face to look at his. but all your anger melted away when you took in his features. his tired eyes, the tattoo on his nose. did he cut his hair? it was slightly shorter, you think? whatever, he was still a dick.

-and dick reminds you...

"i-" you looked at your screen again, hands stilling against the keyboard and resting on the plastic keycaps, "even if we aren't friends. why didn't you text me? was- idk. like, was our last time so bad? even if it was, it's not a gentle-manly thing to do! to ghost a fucking girl out of nowhere!"

"i thought it was a one time thing." he replied back easily, still looking at your bunched features, "i thought you had some built up frustration after seeing the result and you had come take your mind off of it."

"so, what are you saying? was it just 'nother quick fuck session with your classmate? you shoved your pen in his direction, a direct attack by invading his private space. your face scrunched up in disgust, "you do this frequently? am i just the newest addition to the roster?"

as your gaze tangled with his, the sheer intensity in his eyes sent a shiver through your system. he quirked an eyebrow up, his lips pressed into a thin line. the pen slipped past your light grasp and under the desk.

"do you know you're ruining my life?" his eyes searched for yours then travelled down to your lips, "you're actually ruining my fucking life."

and he knelt down.

"choso wh-" your eyes widened as his arm reached under the desk, looking for your pens as his gaze remained trained on you.

adjusting his position, he moved till he was under the desk, hidden by the chair and your legs in front of him. once he found the pen, his sleek fingers pulled his hair back. he carefully tied his flowing hair with your pen.

looking up at you, his igniting touches dragged upwards from your knee to the hem of your skirt.

"wh- what are you doing?" you bit down your lip are his fingers travelled inwards, caressing your inner thigh agonizingly slow.

his forearms pulled your body towards him till you were barely seated on the edge. looking around maniacally to spot any other person, you looked back down at the sight in front of you.

his hair was pulled back, arms around your thighs and tongue licking a clean strip from your mid-thigh. slowly moving upwards, his hot breath danced over your drenched panties.

pressing a chaste kiss to your thighs. giving you a small (almost innocent) smile, he whispered, "i think i should return the favour. be a gentleman, hm?"

his thumb swiped over the wet fabric. the slick allowed him to rub over the swollen nub while his other hand found his erect dick. he bit back a groan as he palmed himself through the sweats.

"choso, stop mhmm no-" you whined as he pushed the fabric aside and swiped over your clit. the pad of his thumb moved methodically- going up and down, to the sides and in tight circular motion- while his lips pressed innocent kisses all over your thighs.

"cho~ nghh someone is gonna see us, plea-please stop—"

"shut up then. go back to your assignment. let's pretend i'm not even here, yeah?"

"chosoo—" you whined slowly, looking around again to see no one was around. once you were thorough with your inspection, you found yourself meeting his sinful gaze, rutting your hips in sync with his calloused fingers.

"—look up or people are gonna get suspicious." he stilled for a second, letting his words register in your head. when he refused to move his deft fingers against your pulsing heat, you finally took your eyes off him. training your eyes at the screen instead, you ignored his rough treatment on your clit.

kissing your soft skin, his fingers played with your drenched core. you closed your eyes, feeling his heavy weight against you body. he sucked on your skin and then looked up at you to give you a lewd look. something between a smug smile and a feral, animalistic desire.

"that's right, just do your work okay? i'm gonna handle the rest." he whispered against the blossoming bruise, "trust me when i say that it's taking everything inside me to not fuck you right here, right now."

his lips ghosted over your clitoris as his fingers dipped inside of you. the hot breath set your body on fire as his slim digits played against your inner mechanics. finally, he placed a soft kiss o your twitching, swollen nub and you chose to bite down on your lips instead on moaning his name out.

your hips burned against the wood. your forehead was getting damper and damper with each leisurely lick. and every attempt of writing a word of your assignment was just another incoherent jamble, fueled by his fucked up fantasies.

your pelvis rolled with his finger and the ache built up in your stomach as he went faster and faster against you, still whispering sweet nothings as if honey was his own language.

the ache built and built and built and you closed your eyes as your orgasm finally washed over you like waves. you tucked your head under your arms, resting your forehead against the cool, wooden desk as you silently screamed out.

his fingers slowed down their assault on your twitching body and he pressed one last kiss to your quivering thighs before removing his fingers. fixing your underwear and cleaning off the nectar on his fingers, he climbed up again.

you cocked your head sideways to look at him. he flashed you a grin before taking the pen out and handing it back to you, "here you go. you should be careful with your belongings"

you rolled your eyes, "fuck off."

and he gave you another large smile, relishing in your huffs and jitters.

pulling yourself back up, you truly thought he'd walk away now that you had cum over his fingers. i mean what else was left? he had come and ruined your concentration. he had won at your game. so what else now? why wasn't he leaving?

"uhm" you gave him a skeptical look, "aren't you gonna go now?"

he raised an eyebrow, dragging the chair closer next to you, "want me gone so soon?"

you turned around to face him. you could feel the steam physically rise out of your face out of sheer embarrassment. "i mean i thought we were just... like? you know—"

"—fuck buddies or something?"

"i mean yeah?"

"i don't think we can be fuck buddies. or friends with benefits." when your face fell, he gave you an honest smile, "'cause we aren't exactly friends... and we haven't exactly fucked."

a blush crept up your throat at his ease over such depraved words, "right, yeah."

"but." he dragged his chair outwards and stood up, "we can be. friends, i mean." he looked away from you, pausing. "i mean, i'll text you maybe?"

"maybe?"

"maybe." he tucked in the chair inwards to it's actual position. then his fingers drummed along the wooden chair, "i am still not sure if i wanna be friends with my rival, you know?"

"oh, fuck off."

he started walking away, giving you a last smile over his shoulder, "i'll text you."

you bit back a smile of your own, "i'll wait."

a/n: tempted to make a third part (and finish off the story with a sweet, nice bow) but idk if i should lol. hope yo enjoyeedd!! and please let me know if i should ever write that third part!! tagging: @somejojofanlol @little-art-addiction @seaweed-empire @basilgardener @rkiveinmarvel

[kissitbttr]

frat!miggy headcannons !!

frat!miguel masterlist

—

sfw !!

frat!miguel is the type to giggle and kick his feet up in the air when you tell him simple things like ‘i am so proud of you, baby’ or ‘look at how handsome you are, my big boy!’

frat!miguel gets jealous of small things. your fictional crushes. your girlfriends. your pet. your back spotter in the cheerleading team. gloria.

frat!miguel is also protective. very. to an extent where even you’re only standing five feet away from him at a party, his eyes will be locked in on you. arms crossed, nodding along to whatever his friend is saying in front of him. smiling like a lovesick puppy when he sees you laugh.

frat!miguel who would in seconds, kneel to tie your shoes when they see them undone. you don’t even have to ask.

frat!miguel plugs into his laptop, spending hours on his free time to look up cheerleading sports when both of you started dating. learning about the rules, routines, physical training, winning teams, tumblings, pyramids, etc. why, you ask? no idea.

frat!miguel is your own personal scary dog privilege. there is nothing about this man a golden retriever. especially at the gym. since you love wearing tight shorts and sports bra on leg days, he would stand a few feet apart behind. glaring to those who stares at his girlfriend’s juicy butt.

frat!miguel brings you flowers every weekend and send ones for your mother too. every once a week he goes out to play ball with your dad too. the man is surprised at how well your dad could throw.

frat!miguel who keeps stashes of condoms in his ‘special’ drawer since you stay over almost every day at the frat house. he figures that it’s better to be prepared than nothing. when really, he’s just one horny motherfucker.

frat!miguel who is so damn clingy that you have no clue on how to deal with it anymore. you could send this man a text of ‘bye, talk to you later, baby’ because you’re leaving for practice and he would spam you with

my miggy<3 : what? no!

my miggy<3 : wdym bye?!

my miggy<3 : princesa please don’t leave me!!!

my miggy<3 : i’d die💔💔💔

my miggy<3 : omg pleasepleaseplease come back

my miggy<3 : so you’re just going to let me die:(

frat!miguel who spends almost his entire junior and senior being fawned and gushed by other girls that he didn’t even think for a second to actually try. but for you? ask him to get you the moon, and he gives you saturn

frat!miguel asks you one day if he could be your boyfriend. not the other way around. not ‘can you be my girlfriend?’ because he’s threading lightly and he needs your permission

—

nsfw !!

frat!miguel is a large, large, man. he’s jacked bro. 6’9 and built like a damn linebacker. he’s big down there too, so it did take some time for you to get used to his size

frat!miguel loves fucking you. to no end. his stamina could go on for hours and he’s lucky enough to have you as his perfect match. ‘always fuck like damn rabbits’ is a review from glen

frat!miguel doesn’t care about whereabouts. if he’s horny and needed you, then you better get to it! (but of course, only if you’re comfortable)

frat!miguel prefers taking you from behind, he loooves seeing your ass bounce against him. it makes him lose his mind. guaranteed that it would be hard enough for him to last

frat!miguel is a sucker for eating your pussy. day and night, this man could have it for his five course meal. he loves it when you’re sitting on a chair, legs spread and tucked upwards while he’s just on his knees lapping at your cunt

frat!miguel loves having control but even more when you’re in charge. bouncing on his dick, not allowing him to touch you while rather just let him watch your tight pussy swallowing his cock.

frat!miguel gets off to your moans. they’re like music to his ears. how could one be so angelic and pornographic at the same time, shits crazy.

frat!miguel who has a breeding kink. he would go on about how he’s willing to knock you up during fucking, whispering in your ear that he’s going to put a baby in you.

frat!miguel is obsessed with your mouth. the head you give is top notch. you could do so much shit with your tongue around his cock than half of the girls he had before with their hands.

frat!miguel who’s lock-screen wallpaper is a selfie of you in the shower. hair wet, one arm covering your tits, puckered lips and doe eyes at the camera. head tilting to the side. it’s one you sent when he had texted you ‘what’s my girl doing today?’ during football practice. you look so damn cute and sexy, he just had to do it.

[ghouljams]

I want to send Simon into subspace send tweet

Nah but he'd love the Amazon position, even better if you get tired of his squirming and trap one of his legs under yours so you're practically scissoring. He likes feeling like you're just using him, taking what you want without a care for what he feels. He's still penetrating you but it's you that's fucking him. Thrusting into him as he hears the plap plap plap of your pussy lips slapping against his skin.

You lean forward and the leg over your hip bends at the knee until you've got his thigh pressed against his chest and tell him to hold his knee up. Looming over him to wrap your hand around his neck. Telling him to "stop fucking squirming" because "fleshlights don't move".

He'll be your fleshlight. He'll be such a good toy for you.

OR

Having him on his knees in front of a mirror, wrists handcuffed behind his back as you lift him upright by the column of his throat. Your strap deep inside him as you tell him to look at himself in the mirror while he rides you so he can see how beautiful he is.

Everytime he looks away - on accident, mostly, you just feel so good he throws his head back without realizing - you force him to stop. Waiting until he looks in the mirror again before you tell him "'s not your fault baby, you're just so good at taking my cock you can't think of anything else, can you? Too busy being good for me."

His moans crack and pitch into whines and then sobs as tears paint his pretty face, but you still won't let him move.

"Tell me how good you are. Say you're my good boy and you can move again."

He hesitates only slightly before conceding, he wants to be good for you and make you proud after all. You slowly start again, hands gripping at his hips hard enough to leave marks that he'll undoubtedly trace the next time he's on leave, pressing into them so they stay bruised and hurt enough for him to feel as he fucks his fist at night, so he can almost pretend you're there with him.

"That's it, darling, just like that. You are so perfect for me, aren't you?" After enough times stopping and starting again he repeats you without thinking.

"arrngghh- 'm perfect for you" he gargles out over a moan, watching his own spit bubble and drool out of his mouth and onto his naked pecs in the mirror

"Yeah, my sweet little slut knows how to make me feel good, doesn't he?"

""m y'r swee- hah! Lil' slut- mmmm! I'll make you feel guh- good, it's so good."

"You gonna cum for me, Si?"

He moans and nods, huffing out some words that attempt to mimic your sentence.

"yeah, you're always such a good boy, so pretty when you cum, aren't you?"

"'m pretty- 'm pretty"

He sees your hand reach around and wipe his cheek, smearing his drool with his tears.

"Tell me you're my good boy while you cum, mkay? I wanna see my pretty baby babbling for me like the cock drunk slut he is."

He chokes on a moan and his head rolls back before the hand on his face grabs his cheeks to pull him to look at the mirror.

"Your good boy, 'm your good boy, jus' for you-" ropes of pearly white shoot out of his cock, decorating his chest and falling to the floor and your fist around his shaft. "'m yours, 'm yours, yoursyoursyours"

His eyes glaze over and his vision blurs but he doesn't pull his gaze away from the mirror, even as he succumbs to gravity. Falling forward as you hold his cuffed wrists to stop him from falling into his own spend. Gargling on his own drool as it forces your strap to burrow against his prostate even harder.

On another note, I'm just saying, Simon would 100% want to get pregnant by you if he could. We need to unionize to impregnate this man.

Barking over this, I'm so feral. My desire to have Simon in any of these positions is fighting against the way I've got him characterized in my head. So I will give you this. (Cowboy)Simon getting Pavloved:

It's not often that Ghost is alone these days, but with you away on business he's had to re-figure certain things. Showers alone, breakfast alone, going to bed by himself with just your pillow to hug... Worst of all: sex. Ghost wakes up with a hardon and you're not there to solve it. With a grumbled swear Ghost spits into his hand and wraps his fist around his aching cock. He hasn't had to do this in a while, nice part about living with you, but it's like riding a bike.

He strokes his fingers over the soft skin, rubs his thumb against the head, nice and tight while he thinks about you. Thinks about your pretty pussy that is. Thinks about you every way he hasn't had you in the last few days: in the shower, over the kitchen counter, before bed, crouched behind you to suck at your cunt, holding your leg up to slot his cock into you, pressing you down into the mattress. Every way he can think of, it makes his cock ache, makes him groan against the stroke of his hand, imagining it's your slick cunt clutching at him.

You're always so sweet when he fucks you, always so careful when you ride him, never doing more than he can handle, never pushing more than he can stomach. Ghost tips his head back against the pillows and imagines the phantom press of your hands against his chest, the slap of your skin against his, the soft panting gasps when he angles his hips and hits you just right. He squeezes the base of his cock, tries to mirror the way you clench around him.

A year ago he might have queued up a porno, but now the thought of you is all he needs to have his hips bucking up into his hand.

Ghost groans, feels his lips part to take a breath. It's not enough, not what he's looking for, what his body is craving, but it has to be. It's just missing something.

Fucking hell.

"Good boy," He tells himself, squeezing his eyes shut against the shame of it, "pretty- fuck- 'm a good boy, pretty boy. Good boy, good boy, good boy." He pants it out, chants it to himself to try and subsidy your sweet voice cooing it in his ear.

Christ he doesn't know if it's the words or the flash of humiliated heat that tips him over the edge but his cock twitches and spurts come over his stomach as he strokes himself through orgasm. Exactly what he needed. God. He's going to have to say that every time, isn't he?

[bro-atz]

sun's out

in which: you and seonghwa are on a picnic and, well, one thing leads to another.

pair: idol!bf!seonghwa/afab!gf!reader

word count: 1.5k

content: smut, public sex, unprotected sex (REMEMBER TO WRAP UP IRL!), nicknames (baby), some cockwarming, hwa feeds you strawberries, completely consensual!

rated: R | nsfw — minors do not interact

author's note: "for my beautiful partner of five years, maya" — @juyofans 2024; and @yunhoszn also requested to be tagged so here you are babes; also, if you're not imagining this fit while you read, you're not imagining right jsyk

networks: @atzhouse @cromernet @cultofdionysusnet @newworldnet @wonderlandnet

Since he had a couple days to spare in between schedules, Seonghwa decided to make up all the lost time with you by taking you out on a picnic. He told you to wear your prettiest outfit and “make yourself look nice for him”— as if he had to tell you, but seeing the words on the screen from him made all sorts of shivers run down your spine. So, you did your makeup and hair all pretty, and you wore the cutest little sundress that you had been saving for a special occasion— a white one with strawberries all over it— and matching strappy heels before taking off.

The second you saw Seonghwa at the location he texted you to meet him at, you nearly foamed at the mouth. He, with his flattering, black tank top, wide cut black jeans, and black cowboy hat, was stunning. He was so stunning, in fact, you feared that if you looked right at him, you would go blind.

“Seonghwa!” you greeted from afar as you broke into a light jog to get to him.

You jumped into Seonghwa’s outstretched arms, the man immediately giggling as he twirled you around.

“Hi, baby,” he sighed into your ear. He set you down and held your hands as his eyes scanned you up and down, the tips of his ears starting to turn red as he said, “Look at you dressed up all nice and pretty for me… You make me so happy, you know that?"

A faint blush rose to your cheeks. Before you could even gather words in your head to respond, Seonghwa kissed your cheek and led you over to a large tree where he had spread out a picnic blanket, glasses, a bottle of wine, and a picnic basket.

The two of you sat down and talked in hushed tones while sipping on the white wine Seonghwa had expertly chose for your little picnic date, the two of you laughing, smiling, and enjoying the company. It had been so long since the two of you were able to experience a normal date instead of having to sneak over to the ATEEZ dorm or him over to your apartment— it was truly refreshing.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” you suddenly said, slightly startling the man. “I brought something for us.”

You went on all fours and reached for your bag— you had put it on one of the corners of the picnic blanket to keep it down— and started rummaging through it. You wanted to take polaroid pictures with your boyfriend, and you specifically set it aside to bring it for your date, but it seemed like you left it at home because it was nowhere inside your bag. You cursed under your breath and continued to rifle through your bag as if you would magically produce the camera, but that was obviously not going to happen.

While you struggled, Seonghwa, who was at first interested in what you brought, had shifted his attention elsewhere. You had crossed over in front of him, giving you a nice view of your chest, and his mouth was practically foaming when he realized you weren’t wearing a bra or pasties or anything. Fuck, he was rock hard, and he needed to do something about it fast.

You sat up and were about to complain to him about the fact that you left the polaroid at home when you took a look at his dazed face, confusing you slightly.

“Hwa? What’s wrong?”

“C’mere, baby,” he uttered, his hands patting his lap. “Sit.”

You shifted towards him, your legs on either side and straddling him before you lowered yourself slowly onto his lap, your clothed cunt immediately pressing against his stiff crotch— and that’s when you realized the situation. Your body started warming up when Seonghwa placed his hands on your thighs, his fingers slowly slipping the dress upwards, his hands beginning to pet your thighs.

“Hwa,” you breathed out as you tried to push his hands away. “Not here—”

“Do you know what you’re doing to me, baby?” he purred, his nose brushing against your ear. “There’s no way I can wait. I need you right now.”

His hands slid up the bottom of your dress and cupped your asscheeks before clenching tightly, your hands flying to his shoulders to support yourself as you suppressed every single raunchy noise that threatened to leave your lips. You heard him inhale through his teeth before he bit his lip and gazed at you on his lap with hungry eyes.

“Baby, bite down on this for me,” Seonghwa asked softly as he held up the front of your dress by the hem up to your lips.

You did as he asked, giving you the nicest view of your bare breasts, waistline, and tiny thong which was practically useless as it revealed practically everything. Seonghwa ran his tongue over his lower lip as he stared at your body, his hands quickly working on his belt and pants, his cock springing up the second he pushed his underwear down. Before you could formally protest further, he pushed your barely-there-panties aside and slipped his cock in to your soaking wet pussy.

“Wow, look at that,” he whispered teasingly as he felt you tense up around him. “You want this just as much as I do, baby. You’re so fucking wet.”

Seonghwa’s first swear word of the day made tingles run down your spine. It was true— you desperately wanted him ever since you saw him in the distance with that outfit on and the cowboy hat on his head, but it was the fact that he was going to fuck you in public that scared you.

“Don’t worry, baby. This is private property, and even if people show up, they’ll just think we’re being lovey-dovey as long as you stay quiet…” Seonghwa whispered as he read your mind (God, you loved that he knew you so fucking well). “Unless you want everyone to hear you being fucked like a whore.”

Another wave of tingles surfed over your body, making you grip his shoulders even tighter. Blinking through the blurriness of your eyes, you locked eyes with Seonghwa and saw his flushed cheeks and red ears. Your lips got dangerously close to his, only for him to tease you by briefly brushing his lower lip against yours.

“Baby, open up,” he breathed out.

Hesitantly, you opened your mouth, and instead of Seonghwa kissing you, he grabbed a strawberry from the picnic basket and stuck it in between your teeth. Not going to lie, you were confused as hell first, but when you sunk your teeth into the strawberries, you couldn’t help but want more. And so, with his cock deep inside you, you continued to sit on his lap like a good girl and be his cockwarmer as he fed you strawberries.

While he was feeding you, he didn’t hold the strawberry properly, making strawberry juice drip down your lips and chin, little pink dots covering your exposed chest. Without a second to lose, Seonghwa ran his tongue over the juice on your chest before licking a slow stripe from the center of your chest over your collarbones and up your neck and chin before kissing you, his lips and tongue making the remnants of the strawberries taste even sweeter.

“Hwa,” you whined into his mouth as he kissed you hungrily, your hips antsy as you gyrated them against his.

“I got you, baby.”

His hands cupped the underside of your ass and started assisting you as he bounced you gently on his lap, the contact of your hips against his making low, quiet noises. His nose brushed against your neck as he dropped his head, his breathing getting shallower as you rode him at a steady pace, his hips bucking upwards occasionally.

But that wasn’t enough for neither him nor you. You nearly yelped as he leaned forward, knelt, and sat on his knees, his arms wrapping around your waist. His hat fell backwards when you ran your fingers through his hair and tugged at his roots, bringing his head up to look at you. You pressed your lips against his and hugged him tightly as he moved your body with his own sheer strength, his cock somehow going further and further inside you.

“Fuck, baby,” Seonghwa hissed as he broke off the kiss and hugged you to him. “I’m cumming!”

With that, Seonghwa gave you one final thrust before his cock throbbed inside you, his cum spurting inside you and filling you up. His cock remained inside you as the two of you fought to regain your breath, the stars in your eyes immediately clearing— you were so close, but not quite there, filling you with disappointment.

Your gentleman boyfriend, though, knew that you needed just a little more. He smiled gently at you and left a little kiss on the tip of your nose before saying, “Tell you what, baby. If you can keep my load inside you ’til we get back to the house, I’ll eat you out and fuck you until you can’t walk, okay?”

tags:

@k-hotchoisan @eyeryis @sinnarols @sunshineangel-reads @hwallazia

@dazzlingstarrs @dutchessskarma @yourlocaljonghoe @st4rhwa @frobin4ever

@sanhwajjong @certifiedmoa @therealcuppicake @yuyubeans @hyunukitty

@startlinglyoongi @hyukssunflower @chewyhotteoks @bsehindu @alexwritesfics

@woomyteez @skteezcursed @yessa-vie @sanglix @minkilicious

@isiloiale @ywtfvs @nvdhrzn @khjoongie98 @jaerisdiction

@ninoshome1 apply for the permanent taglist here!

[thegnomelord]

if you write a thing about the creaming the zussy i will kiss ur boots

The boots better be shining when you're done.

How To Cure Zombies 101

CW:NSFW MDNI, crackfic obv PiV sex, TLOU Clicker trans Ghost, Top Male Reader, established relationship, happy ending, dub-con because Simon consented before he got bit but reader is apprehensive, zombie sex (does it count as necro?) how does this work? idk porn logic. Don't ask me how this happened, i hope this doesn't become what my blog becomes known for.

When the Cordyceps spread across the planet and turned millions of people into shambling mushroom infested undead, the world ended.

When Simon got bitten. . . your world ended.

You still remember it like it had been yesterday; He came back bloody, an empty look in his eyes as he showed you the bite on his arm. Your hands shook as he wrapped them around the grip of the gun and aimed it at his head. You both ended up on the floor with you crying into his chest, unable to pull the trigger.

You remember the resigned look in his eyes when he had agreed to let you do whatever you needed to him to cure him, but both of you knew there was no way, what made you immune to the fungus was as mysterious to the rest of the world as it was for you. His lips had been burning hot when he laid a soft kiss on your forehead, the last sense of warmth you've felt since the docs took him to where they kept the infected for study, your heart leaving with him.

And now?

Now the scientists that have been prodding you like a lab rat since Simon got bitten nearly a year ago say they have a way to bring his mind back, to get Simon back.

And the way to do it?

"So let me get this straight?" You begin, your voice tense, your body even tenser. "You want me to fuck the corpse of my lover? And that will cure him?"

That. You're not sure how the eggheads arrived to this conclusion, frankly all of their scientific jargons had flown over your head. All you understood was that the man you had fallen since the first time you met him could be brought back.

You sincerely hope you won't make some type of super fungus through this.

Words can't describe what you feel as you look at Simon's (is it even Simon?) bound body writhing on the gyno chair, naked and bare to you. You doubt you even know what you feel, hope and fear simultaneously curling in your stomach— You hadn't had the courage to look at him ever since the scientists took him away; The harsh laboratory lights make it easy to see the mycelium filling his veins beneath the ashy pale skin, mushroom caps growing beneath his pecs and across all other scars he has. Red and yellow mushrooms have eaten away his nose and spread out to follow the contours of his face, growing in a way that makes the mushroom caps blend together into a skull shape.

Your heart aches when you see his eyes haven't been eaten away yet, the once deep brown turned milky white and staring lifelessly past you, thrashing about in the bindings, rotten teeth gnawing on the ball gag in his mouth, small hisses and malformed muffled clicks echoing through the room.

You try to look down and you stop at his stomach, forcing yourself to breathe in and out slowly because your heart is beating so fast it feels like you'll have a panic attack. You have no idea if this will work and doing this to Simon only to find out it's as useless as all your previous attempts to cure him. . . you're sure it would break you. Closing your eyes and counting to ten you will yourself to focus, your eyes opening slowly and following the trail of little mushroom caps down to his groin.

It's not what you expected., but it's. . . a lot; Mushroom caps have replaced the lips of his cunt, similar to the hard growths on his head but these look thinner and longer, almost like flower petals framing his cunt, bright red at the corners and getting progressively lighter as it nears his hole. A sort of morbid curiosity compels you to reach out brushing your fingertips against the caps. They're surprisingly softer than you had expected, smooth and slick with some kind of slime. You can't help but notice how a longer stalked mushroom grows from what had been his clit.

You jerk your hand back when a second brush of your fingers makes his body to jerk back and attempt to fight against the restraints, more angry clicks vibrating his throat.

But you also notice a kind of… sweet scent in the air and it's coming from him. Cautiously you brush against the caps again, slowly dipping your fingers under to touch the gills underneath. You keep your hand where it is when he thrashes again, but you're certain that smell is stronger now, and you catch the glimpse of clear viscous slick slowly leak from his hole.

Carefully you push a finger into his hole in an attempt to stretch him out. Logically you know that he probably doesn't feel it, but it feels wrong to just stick your cock in him; He's cold. You know he's dead but you had held out some hope that he would be warmer, that there would be some signs of life despite how stupid that sounds.

He's dry right now, but more of that clear fluid seeps around your fingers and lubes the way as you experimentally push your finger all the way up to the last knuckle, and you felt his muscles flutter around you, clenching down as if trying to draw you in deeper. His head continued to thrash around, no change in the feral behavior, but you still try to be gentle, pushing one then two fingers in and slowly scissoring him open.

You pull your fingers out when his hole has relaxed enough to let you easily slide your fingers in and out, and he's produced enough slick to completely drench your hand. You try to look at him as you press your cock against his fluttering hole, but the sight of his milky eyes almost makes you soft on the spot so you screw your eyes closed and slowly slide in.

Despite how cold and wet his cunt is, you haven't felt anyone's touch, even your own, since he got infected, and a part of you feels disgusted at how a bit of pleasure traces up your spine. He continues to hiss and click as you bottom out, his hips bucking wildly you have to press them down. You set a slower pace than you're used to, keeping your thrusts even and consistent, afraid to tear anything but your fear is seemingly misplaced. He's so much wetter than he'd ever get before he got infected, slick wetly squelching as you bottom out over and over again, clicks and snarls accompanying every move you make.

You're ashamed to say you don't last long. Fuck, is he tight you've been ignoring your body for so long that when you accidentally brush against the stalk growing from his clit and his cunt suddenly tightens up like a vice you cum on the spot, your hips doing little minute twitches as you empty so much of your cum in his cunt that your balls hurt. You pull out just as slowly, both of your mixed fluids leaking out and almost getting caught by the soft mushrooms framing his hole.

You muster up the courage to look him in the eyes, and your heart breaks when his lifeless eyes blindly stare back at you.

You feel like a fool when the first time doesn't work, he's still just a body pupated by a fungus. And you feel like an even bigger fool when you agree to do this a second time.

But the third time. . .

You don't know if it's just wishful thinking but he seems more. . . alert. His head always follows you when you approach him but now his milky eyes almost seem to be looking at your face instead of staring straight through you. He's strangely still on the chair, teeth gnawing on the ball gag but he doesn't try to get out of the restraints.

He doesn't screech when you gently caress the soft outer mushroom caps framing his cunt, instead his chest vibrates with more deep clicks. Nor does he start to wildly writhe on the chair when you slowly sink a finger into his cunt, finding it's already wet with slick. If anything he almost seems to chase(more like stumble) after the sensation, his hips doing small little movements to push your finger deeper into him.

Emboldened by childish hope you do something you hadn't before and reach with your other hand to slowly trace the long stalk of the clitshroom (not a term you coined), before rubbing the base of the cap like you would your own cock.

You nearly jump out of your skin when the gentle pressure of your fingers makes him buck into your hands and let out an ear-piercing screech that the gag has trouble muffling. You pull your hands away and that worsens the problem, the shrieking turning into literal chest rumbling snarls as Simon starts to struggle against the bindings.

Panic rushing down your system you put your hands were they were, gently stroking the 2 inch long mushroom growing from his clit. His hips buck up to chase after your hand, the snarls reverting back into shrieks, but as you stroke him longer they gradually die down to low pitched clicks and whistles. You're stumped; the clicks sound a lot like a cat's puff, his hole fluttering and clenching around your fingers as you slowly push them inside.

He's warmer now, not quite how he was before, but not cold as a corpse either. You know that you've gone completely mad by the fact he starts to gyrate his hips— grinding down just as you get knuckles deep so your fingers can brush against the sensitive spots inside him — makes your mind think that it's a bit of your Simon coming back.

You shake your head and pull your hands away, taking hold of his trembling thighs. You're greeted with another deep snarl but he quiets down immediately when you start to slowly push into him. He feels even tighter now, and you watch how his head falls back on the headrest, a long series of low clicks and whistles squirming past the gag.

His hips move to meet your slow thrusts, tight warm walls squeezing down every time you attempt to pull out just like he used to do. And that thought has your body increasing the pace automatically, your balls slapping against his ass, every sharp thrust hitting something spongy inside him and drawing out a sharp click, the rough pace leaving you panting.

Mindlessly you look up, too caught up in the moment remembering how Simon loved eye contact to remember the situation you're in.

He's looking straight at you.

You halt mid thrust, the low hiss he lets out falling on deaf ears as you tilt your head to the side. You're not insane, his eyes follow you. They're still milky, but they don't look through you. He's looking at you.

Another rough clicking sound leaves him and he thrusts his hips down against yours with enough strength to bruise, almost impatient. Despite how stupid it is you reach out and quickly unbuckle the gag with trembling fingers. "Si?" You say, unable to hide the hope in your voice. "Are you there?" You lean over him, looking hopefully into his eyes. "Do you remember me?"

His jaw moves like he's munching on a survivor, but all that leaves his mouth are more clicks and rough grunts.

Fuck. You are a fool.

A sob tears through your chest before you can stop it, ducking your head down to lay it on his chest. You're unable to keep the fresh tears from falling on him, watering the damned mushrooms that had taken him from you. You can't stop the sobs from coming, your back bowed and shoulders shaking as you cry just as much as the day you first lost him.

His chest vibrates with another long series of clicks and whistles, just pouring salt on the gaping would in your chest.

Your name rights through the room.

It's scratchy, rough, almost incomprehensible to your ears, but it's your name.

You look up so quickly you almost snap his neck. "Simon?" You whisper, staying in him even as you feel yourself soften. "Are you in there?" You slowly reach out to hold his face, careful not to cut your hands on the sharp mushroom caps along his cheeks.

He looks at you back, jaw moving still, but he doesn't try to bite the flesh of your palms despite your hands being right there. "Ckckck-" He clicks, pupils going from pinpricks to blown out, "Ckckrkck- Mo- ckck-ve." He manages, a thrust of his hips accompanying the order.

Your heart leaps to your throat and you can do nothing but follow it, sliding one hand down to dig your nails into his thigh, looming over him as you pull out until only the head is inside and them slam into him that there's an audible clap of skin on skin as you bottom out. A half shriek half click half "Yes!" escapes him as he throws his head back, slack jawed.

A whole range of noises escapes him as you hammer into him with all you've got, one hand remaining always on his face. You can feel him getting hotter the longer you pound into him, body shaking as each thrust nails his sensitive spot. He gets progressively tighter and tighter as you fuck into him, and you let go of his thigh to carefully strike along the long shaft of the clitshroom.

He shrieks at the top of his lungs and his cunt clenches down on you like a vice, fluttering around you and gripping your cock like it doesn't want you to pull out. It pulls you into an orgasm,

"Simon?" You whisper, staying in him even as you feel yourself soften. He's too silent compared to how vocal he had been a few moments ago. "Are you in there?"

His head rolls a bit, peering at you through through his lashes, tongue moving heavily in his mouth and lips twitching up into a soft of barely-there grin. "Cckck- l- ckckc- love- ckrk-you -ckkckrkckck-"

Taglist: @dead-end-stuff

[inupibaldspot]

Are you taking requests?

Could you do a smut(if you feel comfortable whit that) Older fem reader x aged up Megumi?

Megumi is in college in his second year and reader is his “sugar mommy”

Age gap Megumi is 20 and Reader is 27

(Sorry if you don’t understand something, English is not my first language)

Note ₊˚⊹♡ : sugarmommy! reader, sugar baby! Megumi, dom!megumi, overstimulated, fem bodied reader. | Oh I’m not sure if i can actually write that well :(( I’m so sorry so ill just whip up something quick for you below the cut ᰔ

“Me-Meguuu-nghhhh— megumiii fuckkk!”

Fushiguro groans as he takes in the sight infront of him; you all fucked out of your mind, pupils in heart shape and all streatched out around his huge dick.

The sound of skin slapping against each other accompanied with your slutty moans, makes Fushiguro lean his head back; completely taken in by the view of your riding him, so desperate and needy like your life depended on his dick. “nghhh—ah! megumi, yo-youre so deep~so bigg!” you already had come twice but it seemed your lover still had not had his fill of your pussy as he continues to thrust your cum back into you.

“you’re so messy for me, mama.” Fushiguro says as he trails one of his hands up to grab a hold of your boob which was jiggling with every bounce from you, grinding your clit on his abdomen. Fuck… after seeing this view, he feels like he should be the one paying for this. “You like ah… you like it don’t you? you like younger men’s dick don’t you?” He blabbers, so turned on and pussy drunk, nothing registered in his brain before he spoke.

Megumi takes a second to stop his thrust which makes you whine. This make you open your eyes and give fucked out, cute wet blinks at him. “No more ‘gumi ah… I came…pleaseee… I’m done”

The makes Fushiguro’s cock twitch inside and eyes darken, he tilts his head to the side and in an instant, he lifts your hips and pulls you in at a rapid pace, which makes you let out a whiny cry. The pace Fushiguro was going at makes your legs twitch as you try your best to support your self with arms around his shoulders.

“I-nngh I can’t— please I can’t.” You cried overstimulated.

“Mmhmm.” Fushiguro says as he continues to thrust inside you, his balls form wet slaps as they touch your skin, the room now filled with wet sounds of sex.

“Shit, you tighten around me so nicely…” he doesn’t give a fuck right now at your whines, only focus is on your pussy molding into his dick shape.

“Please megumi… ah-ah…ngh ahhh! I can’t. Ah- I’m sooo full of your cummmm!” You say as you rest your head on the crook of the younger man’s shoulder.

Before you could register what was going on, you had been pushed to your back with your legs on the younger dark haired boy’s shoulder. “Come on now y/n.” He says, his eyes almost had hearts with how pussy drunk he was. He slides in his still hard dick inside your pussy, as it makes a wet sound trying to accommodate it.

You whine, legs shaking as you try to get off. "Gumi too much, I'm gonna cum again!"

“You’re paying me to this, y/n.” Megumi reminds and doesn't even bother pulling out when he thrusts, just grinding his dick into you "-so you can’t expect me to stop now."

“aahnn too much...too good...hah aah–“ You felt spent, worn and overused yet it was exactly how you wanted to be...so messed up by him that he couldn’t see straight ramming your insides. “it's so big… ah— I’ll make a mess, megumi~.”

“Take it baby… you were begging for this weren’t you.” He says, as his teeth graze your tit, as he pistons into you again and again, the tip of his cock brushing your cervix with each thrust. “The first time you asked me to be your sugar baby, I saw you eye my sweat pants.”

“Such a slut ah-arent you? You asked for this so I’m gonna fuck your princess lil cunt nghh—need to feel your pussy squeeze me y/n” And you do, falling apart as he fucks you through your orgasm, again and again. when Fushiguro finally pulls out, he props your hips up with a pillow, keeping your legs spread so he can admire the mess.

“You’re not filled enough for how much you pay me, I need to cum more,” Fushiguro hides a smirk as he pants, he hands are on your wirst as he makes you pretty fingers fuck his cum back into your cunt.

Reblogs, like and comment are appreciated! Love this work? Check out other here (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ) ♡

[diejager]

New Beginings

Pairing: dark!Krueger & König x doll!reader

Cw: DARKFIC, DUB-CON/NON-CON, possessive behaviour, smut, rough sex, manhandling, overstimulation, mean!Krueger, creampie, cunnilingus, fingering, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 1.3k

Your new body was… odd. Once, you didn’t need substinence, you could live without eating, or drinking, or breathing, but you now needed food, water, sleep and air to continue on. You didn’t understand how humans could live with such restraint, a body so easily broken and weak when all you did was sit and collect dust until you were cleaned by your caretaker. It was difficult to live this way, it was such a stark difference to your usual life. You were a fragile thing, spending most of your days limp and tiredly laying on your nest of blanket and softness in the golden cage Kruegerbought you.

Krueger was a distant relative of your father, he might’ve shared your father’s blood and pride, but he was nothing, if not vastly different from him. Sebastian Krueger was a crude and brash man, voice low and arrogant while he manhandled you with cruel and careless hands, pushing and pulling you around his broad figure. Unlike your thin and artistic father, Krueger was a firm and strong man, skin scarred from past battles, some won and some lost, but it added to his terrifying image as much as his veil did. 

After your rebirth, he moved you to an elegant, golden cage where you would live the rest of your life, completely at his mercy. He knew you would depend on him for nourishment, for relief and for company, locked away in the shadow of his bedroom to stare and admire like someone would do to a dove —you were his dove, an angel who’s wings he clipped to keep. He kept to a strict routine, he woke you up with a rough shake, his calloused fingers sinking into your softer skin to pull you out, whether or not you were used to using and feeling your legs didn’t matter, whatever he said goes. 

He fed you three times a day with snacks spread across the day, stuffing you round with food despite your complaints about not being hungry anymore, unused to having an body that necessitated food to work. Then he’d sit you on his lap as he worked, his hand sliding down your waist to grip your hip, sometimes staying put while he signed papers, and others straying to your thighs, kneading your oversensitive fat until you squirm and whine. 

He mostly kept his hands to himself when he was busy working, his mind cued sharply into finishing his work for the day to lounge and relax, but he liked - insisted on - touching you whenever he could, rucking up the edge of your dress and cupping the uncomfortable heat of your mound, curling his fingers through your slit and thumb your throbbing clit. He seemed to enjoy your high mewls and writhing, back arched forward and grinding your ass into a hard and painful bulge in his pants. 

Often times, you’d end up splayed over his desk, your clothes ripped in half from the top and left hanging under you while he rammed into you, his low grunts and cruel degrading left you in a wet and cock dumb mess of whining and crying. The red and swollen head of his cock battering your cervix, wringing orgasm after orgasm from you until he had his fill, the tip spurting hot and heavy ropes of thick cum. When he was done, he sat you on his half-hard cock, the girth still wide enough to plug you without reaching for one, your tear-strained eyes blinking tiredly and head resting against his neck.

That was usually what he did: breakfast, work, fucking you, dinner, fucking you, relaxing, supper, relaxing and fucking you to sleep, rarely diverting from it if he could. Krueger was a creature of routines, familiarity and strict form, thriving off his military training to teach you how to walk and talk, building a rigid structure to teach you. He could be cruel with his words, rough with his hands and perverted with his eyes, but he was… loving in a sense, despite how mean he was, he cared for you and provided for you in your uselessness. 

But unlike Krueger, who was heartlessly taunting to you, his roommate - König - was gentle and careful with you, playing with you as if you were still the porcelain doll you used to be. König was the giant of the two, a tall and broad man who stood twice as tall and twice as big as you, a seemingly monster in his rights. His wide palms petting your mop of hair, thick fingers carding through the bothersome knots and dressing you up for the day. He was a second factor of your routine, if you weren’t with Krueger, you were with him. 

He wasn’t cruel like Krueger, dauntingly stern, yes, but he never degraded you and laughed when you teared up. He was surprisingly tender with you, handling you with a softness that reminded you of your late father, mumbling quietly to you and showering you in affection. König praised you and loved you in his own way, a sickening and possessive obsession, mumbling promises that he would protect you from all the world’s cruelty, but what about his roommate’s ruthlessness? He told you not to worry your pretty, little head about him, Krueger couldn’t be fixed, it was the effect of whatever he lived through in battle.

König might’ve been your favourite between the two for how he isn’t purposefully mean, he didn’t degrade you, he didn’t growl and hiss at you, and he didn’t break his word. But he was still your captor, a man with as much - if not more - needs and wants as Krueger, with how often he pawed at your shorts, pushing them down your thighs to rut his cock between the sweep of your ass, carving a space between your clefs. If he was feeling particularly merciful, he’d stretch you enough, a thick and long finger filling your tight cunt before another pushed in, drowning your pained mewls and pants with his scarred lips. He always made you come once or twice, stuffing three fingers in an effort to fit his monstrous size, his girth and length too much for you. Much to your dismay, he made it fit, it was hot and steely, ploughing through you like you were made to take it, your slick and his abundance of pre making his thrusts smooth and easy.

If he was feeling sadistic, he would spend hours preparing you, holding you against his chest by a firm grip on your throat, your ankles hooked under him as he took his time fingering you. He praised you, his deeper growl wonderfully soft while he pampered you with his unending insistence of wetting his sheets with your musk, for the smell of your cum and sweat to stick to his room. He held you down to thrust his fingers, the palm of his hand rubbing your swollen nub, landing sharp slaps on your wet thighs until you’re sobbing out in overstimulation, writhing and fighting him with every claw and hit. 

Only when you stared blankly ahead, drool rolling down your chin and limbs spasming, does he finally fuck you, bottoming out in a quick snap of his hips and pounding you into his bed. He moved you to his whims, sometimes face down and ass up, other times folded in, your legs swung over his shoulders and back curved almost uncomfortably. You’re lucky you were made flexible, seemingly outworldly with how easily König and Krueger bent you over every surface of the house and folded you in half to watch their cocks break you in and your cunt gape, oozing their thick and bitter cum.

You hoped you’d get used to the workings of your body soon, your shaking limbs and painful cramps hindering you in your attempts to flee, to spread your wings and escape your golden cage.

“We just wants what’s best for you, Rehkitz.”

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami @rae-pottah @cassiecasluciluce

[chaldeanu]

language ノ dr. ratio . gn!reader

ৎ୭ ₊ ˙ ⊹ . 0.6k — oral . character receiving ノ sloppy head so good it made him finally shut up ノ short thirst from my notes that i do not remember writing :)

he was perfect. perfect like those ancient statues, with marble looking so soft and detailed, as if someone turned an actual human into a sculpture with a spell, not a chisel. tall and wide, toned muscles, unblemished skin, no hair on his body. except… sliding the pants down his hips, you see his girth still not fully hard, but already so big, so swollen.

unlike those ancient statues with barely anything to show.

you take it in your mouth. carefully. lick him, kiss the tip, and slowly roll back the foreskin until the head is glistening and ready for you to spit on it. just enough so it would make wet sounds while you swallow his length as much as you can, almost reaching your throat. you cannot fit him entirely, but you can feel he’s satisfied enough just to sense your warmth enveloping him from all sides.

as unusual as it is, he’s silent, quietly humming under his nose as his half-lidded eyes follow your movements, analysing and simply adoring whatever you’re doing right now. no harshly spewed comments? no instructions? not even praise? nothing. perhaps you took his ability to speak together with his cock, the gentle suck disarming him from his most powerful weapon — language.

for an unknown reason, this thought fills you up with pride, spurring you on to slide his shaft out of your mouth only to slurp around his base once more, playing with different levels of pressure applied by your lips. sucking at his sack too, fondling and feeling the heaviness hidden under velvety soft skin. then you rise higher and lap around the head again.

finally getting some response in the form of an eager twitch, throbbing as you flatten your tongue against it. a plenitude of precum dribbles out onto your palate, and you swallow without hesitation. sweet and salty taste of arousal, delicate enough for you to enjoy. it makes you hungry for more of that flavour, and soon his girth slides deeper into your throat while your hand gives attention to the rest of his dick, twisting it slightly whenever you need to change your angle.

soon, there is a heavy palm tangling in your hair, pushing and pulling however it feels. guiding you away when you almost hit his limit and back when you aren’t applying enough force. so nice to be under the weight of his control, to the point your nails scrape teasingly insides of his parted thighs. enough for him to feel a sting whenever he rubs his legs together later on.

still, nothing coming from him except for breathy hums and satisfied exhales. should you wear a badge, you want to be called from now on the one who silenced the doctor veritas ratio himself, unable to counter the skill of your tongue. and no one needs to know what exactly it means.

one particular twist of your wrist has him letting go of your hair and placing both of his palms on the bed instead. it’s quite difficult to concentrate with you licking all around his girth like on a lollipop before, but now you can observe how his whole body shivers when you give a few sharp sucks on your way up his length.

so you do it again, a little stronger than before, earning yet another subtle shake.

you trace a finger along the vein from his base to his tip, covering him in your spit mixed with his precum, smearing the liquids all over the sensitive head and listening closely to any sound he could make. when none came, you added even more slickness, stroking him up and down. firm grip with a generous amount of friction from your lubed hand moving across his flesh.

now he’s leaking into your palm, skin slicked to skin, but you do not care. actually, this very thought encourages you to continue, to make such a wise and proper man feel this good he’s unable to utter a word.

[nanaslutt]

short little Kenjaku x Jin smut in honor of chapter 257... ^.^

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

Kenjaku gripped the sheets between her fingers, biting hard on her lip and Jin repeatedly bottomed out inside her, all the while shoving her head into the pillow. The weight of his body on top of hers and the pressure Kenjaku was feeling in his head due to how rough he was being was making his head spin. "You like that? Sure, are being loud." Jin grits through his teeth, his eyes rolling back in his head when he thrusts against a particularly soft spot inside his wife. 

Kenjaku smiled and nodded hastily, drool spilling from the corners of her mouth as she tried to look at her husband out of the corner of her eye. "M-mhmm." She moaned back, thrusting her hips against his ass. Jin groaned and grabbed the fat of his wife's ass harder, his eyes dropping to where the two of them were connected. "Fuuuuck." He groaned, stilling his hips as he allowed Kenjaku to push her hips back against him, fucking herself on his cock.

"Does that feel good?" She moaned, her question slipping off into a moan when he slowly started thrusting his cock inside her again, meeting her hips halfway. The man behind Kenjaku groaned, nodding his head as he stared at her cunt sucking his cock in, enthralled with how tight it felt and how hot the white ring of cum pooling around the base of his cock looked.

"So fucking good, god you're so fucking good." Jin praised, pulling his hand back only to land it harshly against her ass the next second, making Kenjaky cry out, her cunt clenching like a vice around Jin's cock at the unexpected sensation. Jin pulled his hand back from his wife's head and grabbed the other side of her ass with it, immediately starting up his brutal pace again that now felt even harsher due to him using her ass to pull back against his pelvis. 

Kenjaku felt tears well up in her eyes as she gritted her teeth, her arms shaking with how hard she was gripping the sheets. "G-god!" She cried, her jaw falling slack as her cunt pulsed and spasmed around her husband. Jin nodded and pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, feeling his balls throb with the need for release. "You like it when I get rough, huh? Like feeling me deep inside you?" Jin groaned, leaning over her body, his eyebrows furrowing as he stared at his wife's pretty face, screwed in pleasure.

"Yes- yes- god- Jin-" Her voice sounded the same as it did when they first met, when she called his name for the first time. Jin was delusional, he knew that, but how was he supposed to let her go when she was perfectly well in front of him like this? More than well, she was crying and screaming in pleasure in front of him. What? Was he supposed to ignore her and leave her high and dry just because she wasn't exactly the same as when he first met her? Hell no.

"You gonna cum from this, my love? Gonna make a mess all over me while I fill you up?" He groaned into her ear, wrapping his arms under her body, feeling her soft, warm, alive skin under his large hands. "Yeah, give it to me Jin, make me cum." Kenjaku cooed, rubbing her ass back against his pelvis, making his cock jerk around in her walls, his eyes rolling back in his head at the stimulation. 

Sure, he might be a little delusional, but when Kenjaku seduced him with his wife's face and voice, there was no way he was going to push her away. After all, because of Kenjaku, they were finally able to have the baby they could never have before. 

[lilmashae]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧

jealous friends w/ benefits featuring heeseung 🎀

he’s so jealous — quite literally seething having to watch you interact with another man. heeseung knew that he wasn’t inclined to your full attention. after all he knew it better than anyone that he wasn’t your boyfriend — not even close. he knew and you knew your relationship went no further than meaningless sex when your both stressed with exams. so why did he feel this way..?

you’ve been ignoring heeseung and that is blatantly obvious — leaving him on seen and dodging him in the halls — very mature. even still your petty behavior only riled him up. he’d go home to his dorm each night fisting his cock wishing you’d just pick up the phone. you were probably with someone else… maybe jay or sunghoon? fuck. even imagining that made his blood boil.

just as you both knew your relationship was nothing more than physical… heeseung knew no one could fuck you quite like him. who else knew your favorite position — what to whisper in your ear or where you firmly place their palm on your stomach to get you to cum? heeseung knew that no one else could make you scream or beg — squirt and slip the dirtiest pleas past your lips: ‘harder hee! please ‘want to cum — ‘want to cum so so so bad!’ yet he felt so so jealous. you were killing him — he couldn’t take it anymore. the next time he saw you he wouldn’t give you the chance to leave.

you had no intentions of making him upset — you were just creating some distance. obviously there was no room for romance in this relationship… something you were craving quite desperately as of late. when heeseung had cornered you into one of the campus storage closets you didn’t know what to say — it’s not like you’ve seen him recently…

‘heeseung! what are we doing in here?’ you whispered loudly staring back at him. it was hot in the cramped closet — rows of shelves line the walls behind you. ‘i know you’ve been avoiding me… why?’ he was feeling blunt. frankly he missed you — or at least the way you felt clenching in an orgasm around his cock. ‘ignoring you? heeseung no —’ interrupting you heeseung spoke again. ‘it’s jay right? you’re fucking him too now.’

surprised wasn’t the word… you were more than that: flustered and confused. jay? you and… ‘what? no!’ however he didn’t believe you. your lips collided into one another’s. it wasn’t long before he had you bent over in the small space that was the storage closet. ‘fuck! ‘missed your cunt princess…’ he held your arms behind you as he skopping bucked his hips into your heat. ‘s-shit! ‘there heeseung! right there!’

‘’sucking me in so good…’ heeseung’s hand met your ass — slapping it hard. ‘call me hee baby — say my name… let everyone here you pretty girl.’ his arms snaked around you arching your back against his chest. one of his hands held onto your throat slowly slithering up to squish your cheeks and pull you into another passionate kiss. slick lathered around his cock — dripping down his thighs and yours. ‘fuck fuck fuck!’ you whined out feeling his tip brush against that spongy spot buried in the folds of your gummy walls.

‘tell me your mine y/n.’ heeseung roughly rocked his hips — relentlessly snapping his cock inside of you. ‘yours… shit — ‘never fuck anyone else! i’m yours…’ you panted out like a dog feeling yourself clench around his cock before you came all over him — his hand pressing down on the bulge inside of your stomach. ‘yeah? good girl…’ his thrust came to a slowing halt as you felt him too release — the sticky hot of his cum flooding your cunt and dripping down your legs. ‘fuck… look at that baby — all full of my cum.’ he planted another kiss on your lips.

heeseung knew your relationship didn’t exceed that of a physical relationship however… watching you stumble out of the closet stuffed with his cum and your body littered with his marks drove him absolutely insane.

im feeling really good ! I need to get into writing for my other groups too so I’ll be working on that 😋 I love youuu have a goodnight 🎀