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yuebinnie · 1 month

Text

Proverbs 5:19

☾ Pairing : Human Alastor (Hazbin Hotel) x Fem!Reader

☆ Warnings : mdni. Priest!Alastor, implied chubby!reader, noncanon Alastor, dubcon, coercion, blasphemy, abuse of authority, blood kink, blood drinking, squirting, multiple orgasms, fingering (f receiving), cunnulingus, catholic prayers used in a sexual context, scriptures used to coerce, cum eating, size kink, loss of virginity (implied, not talked about), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, literally just smut

☾ WC : 9.8k

☆ A/N : Taking a break from Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea to write Alastor smut ^^ This contains heavy Christian imagery, so if it's something you are uncomfortable with, this fic might not be for you! I really enjoyed writing this; it's my first time writing smut for Alastor, so hopefully I do not disappoint you all. I also posted the fic on AO3, if you'd prefer reading there. Have fun!

There was something about going to church that felt incredibly soothing. The deafening silence every time you walked in during the early hours of the day, steps echoing against the painted ceiling and colourful rose window, the shadows dancing behind the burning wicks of the candles set on each side of the main aisle, the smell of dust dancing in the air like a reminder of how desolate the people who came to visit truly were. You had not always been religious, but you had found peace in believing that there was a divine truth, that being good in this life would give you eternal bliss.

The church was a small one, and an old one; how it was still standing you had no idea. It was annexed to a small decrepit churchyard with moss-covered headstones that dated from at least two centuries ago. To any passersby, it'd be believed to be abandoned, as the outside of the building was quite literally falling apart, the bricks slowly eroding and the tiles covering the roof covered with the same moss as the headstones. The exterior appearance did not matter however, only the inside did; that's where God resided after all.

Despite its age, the inside and of the church was well kept. Yes, the rose window was cracked, and, as an attempt to keep the place as pure as possible, electricity had never been installed. The candles did the job of keeping the inside lit, and as for the temperature, well, dressing warmly was mandatory during the colder months of the year. The benches were old and the varnish that had once covered them was long gone; dents and chips could be found here and there, but they were still sturdy. The altar was small and simple, a wooden thing settled on a small stage that hovered only a few inches above the floor. Near the entrance sat a confessional which reeked of mould, but in the absolute presence of God, the smell was easily forgotten.

You had a habit of going to pray most days when you were not bedridden from the exhaustion of spending the night reading your favourite verses. 5 AM; the perfect time to pray, just as the world welcomed the sun's warmth and light. Very rarely did you meet anyone else; it had happened a few times, mostly old people nearing death coming to ask for absolution for their sins. Otherwise, the only person you had seen was the priest, whom you only had spoken to once or twice. He would look at you while you kneeled and mumbled prayers and verses, a smile plastered on his face.

It was the only downside of it all, that unsettling presence. The priest, a handsome man you had apologized to God for finding attractive, was always smiling. It was a bone-chilling sight; it made you feel as though he could see right through you, like he had access to every single thought that cluttered the inside of your mind. He had asked for your name once and had told you to have a 'delightful rest of the day'. That day had turned out to be horrible, as you had learned your grandmother was diagnosed with stage four cancer and only had a few months left. You had prayed for her, but God had decided to take her, nonetheless. Your subconscious had linked the priest's words as a direct cause of your grandmother's tragic diagnosis, and you had tried your best to avoid talking to him ever since.

When you woke up that morning, sweaty and feeling stickiness between your thighs, you felt sick to your stomach remembering the dreams that had plagued your mind in your slumber. A faceless man, dragging his lips down your stomach, his fingers touching your body in a way that was so sinful; the only logical explanation was that you had been visited by an incubus, an agent of evil. God was testing you, letting evil reach you to see if you'd be as faithful as Job or if you'd succumb to sin like Eve had. You cleaned yourself and changed your nightgown to proper clothes, putting a slightly warm coat on before leaving your house.

The sun had not yet started to show itself, and a thick fog floated above the quiet streets. The sky was covered with grey clouds that seemed to hang low, you wondered if you could touch them if you reached up, but your mind was too preoccupied with your predicament to try and touch something so close to Heaven. Mind running faster than a hare trying to escape a wolf, you tried to convince yourself simple prayers would do, but a loud voice kept coming back, telling you this could only be forgiven by confessing. The thought of having to talk to the priest whom you had convinced yourself was the catalyst of your grandmother's death made you want to cry, but the thought of failing God and disappointing Him was far more upsetting. You reached the church as the first rays of light made the dew covering the Earth glisten, taking a deep breath before pushing the door open.

Your eyes fell upon the priest, who was bent down in the middle of the aisle, a long match in his hand as he lit the candles up. You froze, your eyes running across his shoulders and back. The door closed loudly behind you, and you jumped; the man's head snapped in your direction, his smile growing when he saw who had just walked in.

"You are quite early today, my dear," the priest stated simply, his focus going back to the unlit candles that still begged to melt under the burning flames. "Luckily enough, our Creator does not sleep; we're under scrutiny every second of our time on this earth."

You gulped at the words, the implications they held. You crept closer to the man, fidgeting as you thought of what to say. You let out a small quiet sigh, biting down your bottom lip as you stopped and stood a few feet away from him. The man straightened up and turned in your direction, his head tilted to the left as his gaze travelled across your face, "Oh my, whatever has you this upset?"

Your cheeks flushed as your eyes shifted from his eyes to the floor, the shame of what you had yet to confess weighing down your shoulders like the cross your Saviour had carried through heat and pain. You felt tiny, the priest towering over you; he had to be close to two feet taller than you. Had this been how Lucifer felt when he was at last pushed to meet his fate in the depths, a force greater than all administrating the final judgment? Sinfully powerless, a mere weak being? Tears gathered at your lower lash lines as you spoke, oh so quietly, your voice like the echo of an echo, "Father, I have sinned."

Seconds passed, silent ones, before the man hummed and walked past you, making his way to the front of the church. You twirled around, your eyes landing on where the priest now stood, in front of the old rotting confessional. You gulped, nodding to no one in particular before slowly making your way to the man who was stepping into the booth, the door closing behind him. You did the same, slowly closing the door after giving the empty church one last look, your eyes lingering a few seconds on the nailed Christ resting behind the altar, seemingly judging you.

You sat down, cringing at the creaking of the wood beneath your weight. The grille was pulled up, the silhouette of the man on the other side vaguely distinguishable. You took a deep breath, then spoke softly as you brought your right hand to your forehead, the gesture almost instinctual, "In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen." You put your hand on your thigh, staring at the unmoving priest, "Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It is.... too much time, since my last confession. I am a university student, in my last year to obtain a bachelor's degree." A low hum was heard, and you shifted in your seat, trying to find the exact words for your confession.

"Father, something terrible happened last night. In my weakened sleeping state, evil befell me. I was plagued with sinful dreams. You must understand, I am thoroughly devoted to Christ and our Lord, never have I let a man, or anyone, disgrace the body I was given; never have I had thoughts or dreams of this kind. I fear my will is not strong enough, that this evil shall come back and torment me. I fear I will fall into sin, just as our first predecessors did. I am nothing but willing, Father, so please, do help me. I am sorry for all these sins, and the sins of my past life."

You sniffled, wiping away the tears that had fallen down your rosy cheeks, your eyes glued on the silhouette of the man beyond the grille. His silence made you want to cry even more; were you a lost case? Had your fate already been sealed, your soul now tainted because of the touch of evil in such sacred places? You tugged your bottom lip between your teeth as you waited, seconds becoming minutes.

"This evil you speak of, what exactly has it done to you?" His voice seemed to have dropped lower, the sound a bit raspier. You furrowed your brow slightly at the question; you had been clear about the incident. As if feeling your hesitation, the priest continued, "Ma chère, only by knowing exactly what this evil put you through can I give you absolution."

You felt a blush creep up your neck, and flinched as the crack of thunder was heard beyond the church walls; your heartbeat quickened, was this Him telling you to obey?

You let out a small breath, before speaking up, the words shaky, "As I slept, this evil... Entered my dreams. It took advantage of my defenselessness. It disgraced my soul and my body. Upon waking up, there was... Remains of the sinful things it had my body do." You could feel the man's stare on you despite the grille separating you, causing yours to drop to your knees, feeling vulnerable.

"What sinful things did it inflict upon you?" Rain had started falling, as if the sky itself cried for you; the sound of it hammered against the roof, a continuous wail of grief for your poor soul.

"Father, I don't understand how this is necessa-"

"Do you not want absolution? Do you desire to be locked out of His kingdom? The choice is yours," his tone was harsher, demanding, even. You gulped and shook your head; no, that was not what you wanted. It was the furthest thing from it.

"I apologize for questioning your words, Father," you began, fidgeting with the hem of your coat, "From what I can remember... This evil took the shape of a man. A faceless man. I was in bed, and it joined me, and... We, uh, we kissed. It took my nightgown off." Your hands felt clammy, and you couldn't help but press your thighs together as you recollected the events of your dreams. "It kissed my breasts, then my stomach. It went... Down there, and stayed there until my whole body tensed up. Afterwards, it pushed itself inside me, it thoroughly disgraced my body. When I woke up, my body showed signs that it had reacted to the defiling. Father, please, believe me when I tell you that I was coerced by evil."

Thunder was heard again, breaking the silence that had settled between you and the priest. As the minutes passed, you became uneasy; was the man disgusted with you? Could he sense the sins radiating from your being? He cleared his throat, breaking your train of thought. Your eyes went back to his silhouette, waiting for him to speak up.

"I fear this is beyond the power bestowed upon me, dear," his voice was silky, it made warmth spread inside your chest, as if the vibrations it had created affected your very cells.

Your eyes widened; that was impossible. You had confessed and explained the evil that had haunted you. You had done exactly what He told His followers to do, confessed and asked for forgiveness. You shuffled closer to the grille, tearing up as you begged, "Father, please, there must be a way. I will do anything; I will suffer just like our Saviour has if it's what it takes. I'm supplying you, help me get rid of this evil."

“Very well,” the man said. You watched as his silhouette stood up and opened the door of the booth before it disappeared. The door of your little chamber opened, and you turned your head to look at the tall priest, who adjusted his glasses as he stared down at you. You took a few seconds to really look at him. Despite his smile that made shivers run down your spine, the man was handsome. His skin was tan, his hair dark and styled in an old-fashioned way. His features were sharp, intimidating, almost. Towering over you, his shoulders were wider than some quarterbacks’, and his waist was ridiculously small compared to them. His hands seemed to be twice the size of yours, and you found yourself wondering how he managed to button up his shirts with such big hands.

You looked back at his face as you blushed, realizing the man before you knew of your body in such intimate ways. You slowly stood up as you held his gaze, unsure of what to say next. He took a step aside and gestured for you to step out of the confessional, before closing the door behind you. The priest smiled down at you, “Follow me, dear.”

He started walking down the aisle, the flames of the candles on each side of it dancing as he passed by. You hesitantly followed him, looking out one of the small windows to see the rain pouring onto the world as lightning illuminated the sky. He stopped at the altar and turned to you, his smile ever present. You stopped in front of the stage; sinners did not belong anywhere close to that sacred place. The man stayed silent and with a gesture of his hand, permitted you to step up. You gulped and got on the stage, feeling extremely out of place.

“There is one way for you to repent,” he began, his stare fixed on you, “Though it is a bit unorthodox. The choice is yours, but you must remember that there is no place for sinners in Heaven.” He watched as you nodded quickly; you were eager to be forgiven, to go back to being free of sin. The corner of his lips twitched before he uttered one word, “Strip.”

Your eyes widened as your face turned a deeper shade of crimson. Stripping? You searched his face for hints of dishonesty, hoping he was playing a sick joke on you, but to your dismay, he was serious. Your body was frozen as you looked at him, not even the booming thunder making you flinch.

You opened your mouth to ask why, but the man beat you to it, answering your question before you even uttered a word, “Only by showing Him precisely how this evil tainted you can you be absolved. There is no need to be shy, ma chérie; isn’t He all-knowing? All-seeing? Wasn’t the shame of nudity created by His first creations’ sin? There is no purer form of devotion than to go beyond the embarrassment and bare yourself to Him; than to accept the vulnerable nature of your existence.”

He brought his right hand up to lay it flat against the wooden altar, observing you as you fought an inner battle with your dignity. His words were true, the wisdom of a man devoted to God, of someone who knew scriptures and their meaning. As if feeling your unmoving incertitude, he spoke up once again, “Proverbs 28:13.”

You blinked up at him, mind searching for the verse you had read many times before. You licked your bottom lip with your tongue before reciting softly, “He who covers his sins will not prosper, but whoever confesses and forsakes them will have mercy.” The priest hummed, and you raised your gaze to the crucifix hung on the wall behind the altar, feeling as if He was patiently waiting for you to submit to His will. You puffed out a small breath as you nodded to yourself, a hand coming up to the zipper of your coat, slowly bringing it down to then shrug off the piece of clothing and letting it fall on the floor.

You could already feel the wet cold seep through your thin sweater, but you ignored the feeling as you grabbed the bottom of it and lifted it up until it was completely off you; it dropped, finding its place next to your coat at your feet. Your eyes were unfocused, staring into thin air as you slipped your thumbs under the elastic band of your skirt, pushing it down so it pooled at your ankles. You stepped out of it, getting slightly closer to the priest whose gaze was burning your skin despite the goosebumps covering it. You brought a hand to your back, unclasping your bra before slowly taking it off, baring your breasts to the man. Your nipples hardened as the freezing air licked them and you bit hard down your bottom lip as you slid your underwear down your legs, then stepped out of your shoes, leaving you only wearing your lace-arbored anklets.

The man lifted a hand in your direction, a silent request for you to grab it. You did so all while avoiding looking up at him and followed him as he made his way behind the altar, his fingers squeezing yours slightly, “Our Lord blessed you with rare beauty, dear one, what a shame it led evil to you.” You gasped softly as his other hand wrapped around your waist, your eyes shooting up to look at him. He was still smiling, though his eyes seemed clouded with something you could not put your finger on.

He let go of your hand and grabbed the other side of your waist before effortlessly hoisting you up on the altar, the skin of your ass stinging from the cold of the wooden surface. Your gaze was questioning, and the man recited, his voice low and quieter than it had previously been, “I beseech you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, that you present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable to God, which is your reasonable service.” You gaped at him; a true man of God, that’s what he was. “Offer your body to Him, and you shall be absolved. Show Him what evil has done to you, so He can forgive and make you pure again,” he held your stare, his pupils slightly dilated. You nodded once, and the priest stepped aside, leaving you to face your Saviour in your naked glory.

You slowly leaned back, using your left elbow to not completely lie down on the wood. You brought your trembling right hand to your lips, the tip of your index finger stroking the pink flesh as you recalled where the lips of the faceless man had touched you. They lingered there for a few seconds before dipping to your neck, dancing around the column of your throat as your eyes fluttered shut; if goosebumps had not already been covering your body fault of the moist cold, they would have appeared, the feeling titillating. Your chest rose and fell in a timely rhythm as you dragged your touch to your breasts where your finger gently caressed your right nipple. Your lips parted, small breaths making their way out as you gathered with your small hand the heavy fat of your breast, squeezing. You could feel the stare of the priest on you, but you attempted to ignore it as you kept going.

Your fingers went down your stomach, using your nails to slightly scratch the skin, and they stopped a few inches below your belly button. You opened your eyes and looked at the crucifix; His peaceful expression, despite being nailed and in pain, gave you courage and you spread your legs, giving your Saviour the perfect view of your most intimate era. You nibbled on your bottom lip as you slowly brought your fingers down, choking on a soft moan when they made contact with your clit. The simple touch made your composure fall a little, your lips parted as your face reddened, feeling more exposed than you had ever felt before. You gently pushed against the bundle of nerves, gasping as your fingers started to move, following a small eight-pattern.

You could feel your heartbeat thundering against your ribcage, matching the loud striking of the heavenly fire against the earth beyond the safety of the church walls. Soft pants left your mouth as you started working on yourself, closing your eyes to focus on the memories of the previous night. Every touch and stroke were vividly drawn in your mind, your fingers moving in an almost instinctual way, leaving you a whimpering mess. You moved your elbow that was holding your weight, slowly leaning your back against the cold wood, before bringing the now free hand to your face, covering your mouth with it as your thighs trembled. Your body was thrumming, humming with new sensations, your mind as foggy as the early morning that had welcomed you when you had stepped out of your home.

Lost in pleasure, you jumped, your eyes shooting open as you felt long fingers wrap around your wrist, the priest looking down at you, his own eyes sharper and darker than they had been earlier. Your fingers nestled between your thighs stopped moving as you stared at him, but he tsked, “My dear, you must not hide anything from Him. These lovely, sinful sounds you make, are not to be repressed. Let them be; let Him hear what evil inflicted upon you,” his voice sent a chill down your spine, your back arching slightly. You watched as the corner of his lips twitched and let him pull your hand away from your mouth, gulping as you nodded weakly. “Good girl.”

Your breath hitched at the praise, eyes not leaving his’ as your fingers started to move once again, bringing your legs up to rest your heels against the altar, spreading your legs a bit more. As if in a trance, your gaze fixed on the priest as you moaned and gasped, your hips twitching as you rubbed your clit. You saw his Adam’s apple bob, his eyes narrowing as you used your free hand to caress the skin of your stomach, slowly inching towards your left breast. Your fingers dipped lower, teasing your entrance, and with a bite on your bottom lip and a pinch of your nipple, you pushed your middle finger all the way to the second knuckle, your eyes widening at the feeling. You let out a throaty whine, pressing your head harder against the wooden surface that supported your weight. The cold was long forgotten, your body covered in a thin layer of sweat, muscles spasming here and there.

You slid your other hand between your thighs, the digits quickly finding your clit and gently stimulating it as you managed to push your finger further inside yourself. The faceless man from your dreams had used three fingers, and you could only wonder how your dream self had taken them, as you were struggling with a lonely, short finger. Despite the uncomfortable feeling, you bit down your lip and pushed your index alongside the finger that was already pressed inside you. Your face scrunched up at the stretch, a silent sob echoing through the dimly lit space. You felt your walls clench around your digits, your free hand still working on your clit as a way to make the dull ache more bearable. You waited a minute, giving your body time to adjust to the feeling, before carefully pulling the fingers out and thrusting them back in, a surprised whimper leaving your lips as a new feeling started to blossom in your lower stomach.

You arched your back and started speeding up the motion of your hands, unable to keep quiet as your body grew warmer and more tense. Your eyes fluttered open to look up at the priest, who was as still as Christ watching you from His cross on the wall. As you exhaled, you pushed a third finger in, welcoming the stretch with a high-pitched whine. Your knees dropped down onto the altar, leaving your womanhood fully exposed; you watched as the man glanced at where your hands were working in tandem to replicate almost exactly what the evil from your dream had done to you. You gathered the little concentration you had left and started muttering through gasps and moans, “Compassionate Father, you are the Lord who rescues His people. When I am overwhelmed with shame, help me find solace in you. You have said that you will help—though my sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are as red as crimson, they shall be like wool. Remind me that I have been purified by you, that the curse of sin and evil is no longer upon me. In your powerful name, Ame-” You were cut off by a large hand wrapping around your lower face, the feeling making your body jolt.

Right, it had to be the same as the dream; you had not uttered a prayer in it, far from it. You closed your eyes, moaning against the palm covering your mouth, as you focused on the growing tension in your core. Every second felt like minutes and every minute felt like hours as you quickly thrust your fingers in and out, all while you rubbed and nudged your clit. The pressure was almost unbearable, your whole body twitching as your hips tried to follow the movements of your digits as if they had a mind of their own. The priest moved his hand away, and you opened your eyes to watch him bring it to his mouth where he licked his palm, which was covered with your drool.

Something snapped inside of you and a loud sob made its way out of your throat as your muscles tensed up, your walls clenching tightly around your fingers as you stilled them, your mind unable to think about anything beyond the blinding pleasure that took over your body. Your eyes rolled back, pitiful sounds leaving your mouth as your back arched from the altar, your thighs squeezing together, trapping your hands between them. This felt so much better than it had felt in your dream. You teared up; the Lord’s love was so strong; evil could not even compare.

After a few seconds, your body relaxed, and you were left panting and sweaty, as if you had just run a marathon. Slowly opening your eyes, your vision became clearer as you blinked, a smile tugging at your lips as you looked at the crucifix, then up to the priest who had not moved. You removed your hands from between your thighs and brought your left one up to wipe the pearls of sweat on your forehead with the back of it. You wrapped your right arm around your chest, trying to hide your breasts as you spoke up, your voice small but hoarse, “Have I done it, Father? Am I free of sin? Has our Lord given me absolution?” Hope lingered; you had done what you were told to do, you had been good, and your Lord was good and forgiving, He had to have seen how faithful you were.

The man’s eyebrows raised before he let out a small chuckle, shaking his head slightly, “My dear, this was only your confession. The truest and purest form of confession.” Your smile dropped. You looked at him as he made his way closer to the wall, where he stopped in front of the crucifix that had observed you as you worked on yourself. His chin tilted up as he looked at it, before his head slowly turned to look at you, “But confession is not enough for this type of sin, sadly; you must also be cleansed.”

You sat up, your brows furrowed, watching as the man stepped closer to you. He stood in front of you, his right hand coming to rest on your thigh, just above your knee. His touch was warm and inviting, but you still wondered what his words meant, so you asked, “Cleansed?”

His thumb stroked your skin as he hummed and brought his other hand up to your shoulder, pushing your hair behind it, “Yes, dearest, cleansed. Your body was defiled by evil, it must be purified. You’ve shown our Lord and Saviour how, and now He shall reclaim your body as His’.” You looked at him, your eyes round and big, trying to make sense of the words that had just been spoken. A small pout appeared on your lips, and the tall priest bent down, his face now closer to yours as he said, his voice slightly louder than a whisper, “You are so easy to read, you know? But to ease your confusion; I shall represent our Lord and make you pure again.”

You froze, the realization of what the man meant hitting you just like David’s stone had hit Goliath. You gaped at him, your mouth opening and closing, searching your brain for the right words to speak, afraid to insult God and the man who stood before you. You gulped and said after taking in a deep breath, “Our Lord… I cannot think of mentions of this procedure in the scriptures,” you blinked, your eyes shining as you looked into his’. “Father, has this procedure been tested before? Where does it come from?”

His long fingers dug into the fat of your thigh as you saw the muscle of his jaw clench, a small whimper leaving your lips at the feeling. He kept squeezing, his creepy smile growing, “Are you implying my authority was not given to me by our Lord? That my will does not stem from His’? That I would go against scriptures, something I have devoted my life to?” You shook your head quickly; you had messed up. You were to never question the words of a priest, for he was much closer to God than you were, and you had done just that. This evil needed to leave; it made you do, think and say things that would only make you unworthy of Heaven.

“Father, do forgive me! This evil, it has taken control of my body and sou-”

“There’s no need for that. I shall make your sins a purest white than Abraham’s sacrificial lamb. You will be reborn a new woman, utterly sinless,” he inched his hand higher on your thigh, “That is what you want, isn’t it? To let your God make you pure again?” You gave him a slow nod and his smile widened as he brought his free hand to his face, removing his glasses and putting them on the altar next to you. He nudged your knees open and settled between them, sliding a hand against the back of your head as he sang praise to you, “What a good girl you are, ma chère.”

His lips smashed against yours and you gasped, your eyes fluttering shut as you tried to follow his lead. The hand resting on your thigh slid to your waist and forced you to get closer to him, his chest pressing against your naked breasts. You moaned into the kiss, pictures of your dream flooding your mind, causing you to wrap your legs around his tiny waist and arms around his neck. You ran your fingers through his hair, letting the man run his tongue along your bottom lip, your mouth opening slightly in response. His kisses travelled down your chin, to your throat, his teeth nipping at your skin as you let your head fall back, giving him better access.

His mouth slid to your chest, and you lowered your chin to look down at him as he wrapped his swollen lips around your left nipple. You grabbed a handful of his hair and pressed him closer to you, arching your back slightly. His eye shot up to look at you, humming against your skin, the vibration leaving you a whimpering mess. He separated from your pink, wet bud with a last lick, smiling as he flicked your other nipple with his thumb, “So eager for absolution, aren’t you?” Your soft pants were interrupted with a small gulp as you nodded once again; there was nothing you wanted more. He ran a hand up and down your thigh before grabbing it and removing it from his waist, doing the same motion with the other one a few seconds later. You silently watched as he kneeled, his face a few inches away from your exposed core. The sight made your heart skip a beat.

Something caught your eyes on the wall, and you looked up, seeing a rainbow light up the crucifix hung on the wall; the rain and thunder had dissipated as suddenly as they had appeared, and sun rays were beaming through the colourful tainted glass of the rose window at the entrance of the church. A small smile tugged at your lips, this had to be a sign you were on the right path. You bit down your bottom lip and gazed down, seeing the priest eyeing your womanhood, a hungry look on his face. Your cheeks reddened as you waited for the man to do something.

He slowly inched closer, and let his nose nudge your puffy clit, causing you to gasp softly at the feeling. You felt something warm run up and down your slit, your grip on his hair tightening as he flattened his tongue against your entrance. Your brows knitted, a small noise leaving your lips as he started to move his wet appendage up and down, moving his head slightly as he did so to get his nose to bump against your clit with each lick. His hands went to your ass, and he brought you even closer to his face; you wondered how he could even breathe.

Your mind started to wander as pleasure slowly took over your limbs; was the man between your legs mistaking you for a wine-filled chalice? The slurping noises his mouth was making against you travelled through your body and rendered you dizzy. You pushed his hair back from his forehead and his eyes shot open to look up at you as his fingers dug into the fat of your ass. His pupils were dilated to the point that you could barely see his iris and there was wetness spreading on his cheeks and nose. Lips parted, you sighed and slightly scratched his scalp with your nails, leaving the man groaning as his stare was still fixed on your face. One of his hands made its way down your thigh and disappeared from your view before it reappeared; a dainty wooden-beaded rosary was dangling from his fingers.

The priest took his mouth away from you, a wide smirk painting his lips as he grabbed your wrist and dropped the prayer beads in your much smaller palm. His other hand came forward and started stroking the skin of your inner thigh as he wrapped his long digits around yours, forcing you to hold the rosary. He licked his bottom lip before speaking up, “You know how this works, don’t you?” His smile grew as he watched you nod, “Perfect. Recite them in your head, except the Five Decades; you must recite those aloud. It’s Thursday, so Luminous Mysteries. Whatever your Lord has planned next and does to you, you must keep going, understood?” You nodded again but he shook his head, “Use your words, dearest.”

“I understand, Father,” you said, your voice small.

The man hummed and let go of your hand, dropping it to your other thigh, massaging the skin there as well. His gaze dropped to where your thumb moved to make the Sign of the Cross on the small crucifix pendant. You closed your eyes as you started reciting the Apostles’ Creed, surrendering your body to the faithful man kneeling before you. His lips pressed against you as you finished the first prayer, your finger moving to the first bead. He fell into a now familiar rhythm, leaving you incapable of staying silent as you breathed out soft moans. Something prodded at your entrance and slowly slipped in as you fell back against the altar with a thud. You arched your back as it kept going, much deeper than you had reached with your fingers. It pumped in and out a few times before the man added a second finger, the pressure and stretch making you whimper.

His tongue kept alternating between sucking on and flicking your clit as you busied yourself with prayers. The priest hummed against you before removing himself; you opened your eyes and lifted your head from the wooden surface, eyes widening when you saw blood on his chin and bottom lip. He removed his fingers from you and showed them to you; they were bloody too. You stared at him silently, uncertain of what to say, but he broke the silence, “See what the evil has left in you? Aren’t you so lucky your Lord is ever so forgiving? That he’s cleaning you up to make you free of sin?” You nodded and bit the inside of your cheek. His eyes were gleaming as his fingers went to your lower stomach, smearing the blood on your skin, which made goosebumps appear.

You studied his face, his sharp, dark hooded eyes were staring at you under his defined eyebrows, his plump lips were stretched in a smile; his tanned cheeks and chin were coated with a sheening coat of your wetness and blood. His hair was now messy—your doing—and his fingers were slowly making their way back to your slit. Without thinking about it, you reached out and cupped his cheek with your free hand, rubbing your thumb against his bottom lip. His tongue darted out to lick your digit as his fingers sank back in you, knocking the breath out of you. Your eyes closed shut as you gasped, your hand falling from his face to rest on your hip. You heard him laugh under his breath before the warmth of his mouth was back on you. Your mind reminded you of the rosary you were holding, and you started reciting the Hail Mary.

As you neared the end of the Glory Be, you felt the man add another finger, the stretch making your eyes tear up as you mewled weakly. The words of the prayer passed in your mind, disappearing as he started to thrust them in and out. Your walls clenched tightly around his digits as your chest rose and fell quickly, panting as your body tried to get adjusted to the burning feeling.

Your fingers landed on the first Decade, and you gathered all your strength to start reciting the prayer, your voice shaky, “Then Jesus came to Galilee to the Jordan to John, to be baptized by him. John would have prevented him, saying ‘I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?’ But Jesus answered him, ‘Let it be so now; for thus it is fitting for us to fulfill all righteousness.’ Then he consented.” You were interrupted by a yelp as you felt the priest’s teeth grazing your clit, your free hand landing in his hair, gripping it. Your hips kept twitching as you kept going, stuttering through the words, “And when Jesus was baptized, he went up immediately from the water, and behold, the heavens were opened and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove, and alighting on him; and lo, a voice from heaven, saying, ‘This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased.’”

The drag of the man’s fingers had turned pleasurable, and you felt your muscles tense up, the feeling in your lower stomach rapidly growing. You pushed on the back of his head, searching for more friction, and you moaned out loudly when he started mumbling against your clit as his fingers kept moving, “Oh my Jesus, forgive me of my sins, save us from the fires of hell; lead all souls to Heaven, especially those who have most need of your mercy.” You could not register the words but the movements of his lips on you made you come undone, your back arching from the altar as your thighs trapped his head in place, your hips lifting to follow his fingers and urge him to press his tongue harder against you. Your every muscle tensed up, crying out as the waves of your orgasm hit you just like the Red Sea had crashed into the Egyptians as He closed its parting. You spasmed around him, your walls trying to push his fingers out, and you felt wetness drip down your ass.

He separated from your clit, kissing it softly as he removed his digits from you, slowly standing up as you cracked your eyes open, your body still jolting randomly as it calmed down from your high. The light coming from the rose window had moved, and from your angle, it looked like a halo surrounding the priest’s head; a breathtaking sight that had you gape in awe. You watched as he tugged at the collar of his shirt, taking his Roman collar off and letting it fall to his feet. Your wetness was dripping from his lips which were harbouring a soft smile, his hands moving unhurriedly to unbutton his cassock. His eyes travelled up and down your spent body, then to the rosary you had forgotten you were still holding; you clenched your fingers around it and moved to a new bead, your lips moving silently as you recited the Hail Mary in your mind.

You kept your eyes on his hands as they reached the last button, the man shrugging off the black piece of clothing, revealing he was wearing a white tank top and black pants underneath it. You gulped at the true size of his shoulders; you had thought his cassock gave the illusion he was large, but even with it off, he looked huge. The smallness of his waist only accentuated how massive the built of the priest was. He had muscles but they were lean; despite it all, he looked strong and exuded a masculine aura that had you squirming in place.

Your observations were interrupted by his voice, “Do you feel like the weight of your sin has lessened, ma chère?” You dipped your chin once; you did feel lighter. The man grinned wider as his hands wrapped around your waist, bringing your torso up effortlessly so you were now sitting. He brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, leaning over so his lips pressed against the shell of your ear, whispering, “You did so well, dear, you’re almost as pure as the day you were born. There’s only a step left in this procedure, but it will hurt at first.” He pressed a hand on the back of your head and pushed forward, forcing you to bury your face in the crook of his neck. You inhaled and felt his fingers massage your scalp gently.

He smelled so intoxicating; a mixture of moss, rain, coffee, tobacco and a hint of something floral emitted from his skin. You realized you had pressed your lips against the man’s neck when you felt him tense up, his hand stilling in your hair. You backed away slightly, blushing so brightly you were grateful he could not see your face, muttering an apology. His body relaxed again, and he hummed, “There’s no need for apologies. Bite down my shoulder—don’t be scared to bite hard—it will make you focus on something else.”

You opened your mouth to ask what he meant but pressed your lips together when you heard a zipper, followed by the shuffling of clothes between your bodies. You brought your hands to his chest, the rosary still in your hand, fingers fidgeting with the beads as you felt one of his large and cold hands spread your thighs a little further apart. You felt his fingers run up and down your slit and you gasped at the feeling, your nails slightly digging into the muscles of his chest. A wet sound travelled up to your ears and you closed your eyes, a shiver running down your spine when you felt a hand drop to your hip, kneading the fat there, and his voice, now a low murmur, “Bite down.”

You barely had the time to process the words that you felt pressure against your entrance which ceded, your walls wrapping around something so thick you shrieked before sinking your teeth into the man’s shoulder. It felt like you were being split in half; the thickness slowly forced its way inside you as tears gathered at your lower lash lines before they dripped down your cheeks. You bit down harder and pulled away quickly when you felt iron-tasting warmth coat the inside of your mouth, but the hand still in your hair pushed you against the bleeding bite mark, the priest almost growling, “Bite, and drink. At this moment, I am God; I am Christ. His blood is mine, and my blood is His’. Savour, dear one, and let me cleanse you inside out.” You let out a shaky breath before sinking your teeth back in his flesh, your brows knitting as he pushed his length an inch deeper inside you, “So obedient.”

You let the blood fill your mouth and swallowed, cringing at the taste but unwilling to go against Heavenly orders. Your arms snaked around his waist as he kept slowly pushing himself into you. The pain was unbearable, but your mind went to Christ, and how much he had suffered for the sins of all; the ache between your legs was a pinch compared to what he had endured, so you toughened up and let your tongue lap at the blood. Your brain felt foggy, and you could only take it as a sign that it was your body reacting to being filled with the divine energy pouring out from the priest. His length reached deeper than his fingers had, and you wondered how much of it you had left to take in.

You soon had your answer, the man stilling as his pelvis pressed against yours; he was so deep in you, stretching you so wide. Your mouth detached from his neck, and you pressed your forehead against his skin, panting loudly as you tried your best to relax your walls around him. The hand that was in your hair made its way to your waist, squeezing gently as you felt his lips press against your ear once again, “Your Lord is so pleased with you; you’re taking his cock so well. You’ll be redeemed in no time.” He slowly pulled out, leaving only his tip in, before thrusting in you at a medium speed, leaving you sobbing against his neck. It was overwhelming, the feeling of his length rubbing your inside and the warmth spreading in your chest, God’s love making you burn up. The feeling started to transform from pain to pleasurable pressure, your pained cries turning into needy moans.

You had managed to reach the tenth Hail Mary in your mind, your fingers reaching the second Decade. You whimpered out the beginning of the Second Luminous Mystery, “On the third day there was a marriage at Cana in Galilee, and the mother of Jesus was there; Jesus also was invited to the marriage, with his disciples.” The priest started moving faster, his hips meeting yours at a much quicker speed; you whined as his tip hit a certain spot inside you, the rosary dropping on the floor as you dug your nails into the man’s shoulder blades. You could not concentrate on anything other than the drag of his length against your walls, panting and gasping each time he bottomed out.

He slightly pulled away from your body and looked down at you, his hips still moving as he brought a hand to grab your jaw from under, forcing you to look at him. He eyed you before crashing his lips against yours, moaning as he tasted his blood in your mouth. You slid your hands up to his hair, tugging at it and scratching his scalp as your teeth clashed together, tongues dancing. You pressed your chest closer to his’ and sighed as your nipples rubbed against his tank top, the feeling sending electric shocks to your core. You parted away from his lips, catching your breath, and your eyes opened and landed on the crucifix watching you; you smiled softly—oh how good was His clemency. Your gaze went back to the priest who was slightly panting, his lower face covered in blood—just like yours— as he smirked at you, sliding his hand to your cheek, stroking the skin tenderly.

In half a second, he pulled out and manhandled you, so you were now bent over the altar, your breasts pressed against the wooden surface as your feet dangled in the air, his large hands holding you up. His knee nudged your legs open wider and you felt him slip back inside you, the new position bringing a different sensation. His hips met your ass, and he started thrusting into you eagerly, loud smacks echoing through the church. You held yourself up on your elbows, holding your head up as you looked at the front door; if someone were to walk in, they would see the priest cleansing you, a Godsent blessing.

Your elbows started to tremble, and the man noticed; he slid a hand below your stomach and hoisted you up against his chest, your back pressed against him. He held you up, his arms wrapped around you as his pelvis smacked against your ass, your feet dangling one foot above the floor. He slid a hand down, his fingers running down your slit, groaning as he felt where you two were connected. He ran them up again and pushed his middle finger against your puffy clit, gently rubbing it as he kept working himself in and out of you. Your head fell back on his shoulder, and he took the opportunity to attach his lips to your neck, kissing and nibbling at the skin.

You truly never had felt anything like this; if you had been a fool, you’d have thought you were glowing from how fulfilled you felt. The familiar tension grew in your lower stomach, lewd noises leaving your mouth as the man dug the fingers of his other hand into your flesh, holding you closer to him as his movements became erratic. His groans and grunts were sending shivers down your back, only adding to the multitudes of sensations you were currently drowning in. As if he could feel you were close to reaching your orgasm, he mumbled against your neck, “Let go, ma chérie. Let evil leave your body, let God replace it with goodness.”

Your breath hitched and with a few more nudges on your clit, the pressure building inside you snapped. Your vision went white as you came, the feeling different from your previous releases. Even through the waves of pleasure, you could feel something drip down your thighs and could hear squelches as the priest kept thrusting his length in you. Your mouth was open, silent cries leaving your throat as you clenched tightly around the man. You felt his lips move against your neck, but you were too lost in feelings to understand what he was saying.

Your tensed-up muscles slowly relaxed as the remains of your orgasm washed over your body. You whimpered as the man kept moving, your core feeling overstimulated by his length still burying itself inside your sensitive walls. He quickly pushed your front back against the altar, grabbing your hips as he moved both his hips and yours in sync, your nails digging into the wood as your ass smacked against him. His thrusts were harsh and fast, leaving you breathless; tears were streaming down your cheeks at the delightful ache.

His hips stilled, his length buried deep inside you, as he groaned lowly. You felt your inside be flooded with warmth, whining as you dropped your forehead against the wooden surface, the cold of it grounding you. You were panting, the warmth creating a pleasant pressure inside your core as the priest rubbed his thumbs over your Venus dimples. He stayed inside you for a few more seconds, before easing out of you, leaving you feeling empty. He once again manhandled you so you were now sitting facing him, holding your limp body up as he dragged a hand up your moist thigh, grinning, “See this wetness? It was the remains of evil leaving your body.” His hand reached your slit and he gathered a sticky white substance on his fingers, bringing his hand up close to your lips, “And this is goodness. Do remember, my dear, your sins are scarlet and they shall be as white as snow.”

You gaped at him; he truly was a man of God. He pushed his fingers past your lips, and you let him, wrapping them around his digits as your tongue licked at the goodness. The taste was bitter, but as your eyes met his’, all you could think about was how caring and selfless the man standing in front of you was. You had come to him, worrying about your purity, and he had completely cleansed you of sin and given you his own God-gifted goodness, not asking anything in return. He removed his fingers from your mouth and brushed your cheek with the back of his index, his smile not faltering, “What is this look you are giving me?”

You blinked a few times, your cheeks flushing as you realized you had been staring, “Father, I must thank you. My body and soul were barren, and you made them anew again. I do not know how I could ever repay you.” His eyes narrowed at your words, his hand reaching to grab his glasses before he put them on and ran a hand through his hair. It dropped to your thigh and drew shapes on there, his gaze not leaving yours.

“Alastor,” he said simply before stepping away from you and bending down to grab your clothes. Your expression turned to a confused one as you watched him slip your underwear up your legs, your skirt following. You let him dress you, his fingers skilfully clasping your bra behind your back before he motioned you to lift your arms so he could slip your shirt back on. Once dressed he let his hand lay on your thigh again, before he spoke up, “My name is Alastor. Call me by it and your debt is repaid.” He grabbed one of your hands and dropped the rosary in it before grabbing your waist and helping you down the altar, “Keep this, use it whenever you feel evil is near.”

You nodded up at him and smiled, your grin faltering for a second when you saw that the crucifix on the wall had detached and was now hanging upside down. Oddly, you thought nothing of it and you looked back at Alastor, your smile spreading wide, “Thank you, Fa—Alastor.” You squeezed the rosary between your fingers, watching as he bent down once again, but this time to grab his cassock and Roman collar. You stood silently as he buttoned it up and placed the white collar around his neck. He straightened the fabric with his hands, before meeting your eyes.

“You look quite a mess, dearest, you’d better go home and clean yourself.”

Your hand flew up to your face where dried blood was caked on your chin and around your mouth, and you felt a blush creep up your neck at his words; he did not look any better. Despite it, you nodded, shifting on your feet as you thanked him once again, “I cannot express how thankful I am, Alastor, truly. You, uh, you should probably get cleaned up too; people would probably wonder why there’s blood smeared on their priest’s face.” The man chuckled and nodded before bending down to grab your coat, handing it to you once he straightened up. You took it and quickly slipped it on, putting the rosary in one of the pockets.

You clasped your hands together and bit down your bottom lip as the man put a hand against your back and urged you to walk with him. You walked down the main aisle silently, stopping once you had reached the end of it. You turned to him and opened your mouth to speak, but he beat you to it, “Go, now. Enjoy your newly found purity.” You smiled and dipped your chin once; he grinned back, “I will see you tomorrow, though I am hoping you will not walk back in here with that same pitiful expression you had earlier.”

You let out a small laugh as you gestured that you agreed before giving him one last glance and turning around, walking towards the door. You could feel his stare burn holes in your back but ignore the feeling, pushing against the door and stepping outside, the sunlight momentarily blinding you. You sighed loudly, looking around to make sure no one was close; the last thing you wanted was someone seeing you limp, your face bloody. You began to make your way back home, ignoring the way your thighs stuck together from your and Alastor’s bodily fluids. You thought about his words, and strangely, you found yourself disagreeing; you hoped the faceless man would come back. You had tasted true goodness, the powerful and unconditional love and mercy of God, and you wanted more of it.

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goldenempyrean · 2 months

Text

Spring Showers

〚 Notes - Hello! This was based off this: request! I was meant to post this yesterday I think but something came up. Hopefully this is enjoyable, honestly feels good to write again :) 〛

〚 Pairing - Natasha Romanoff x Reader 〛

〚 Summary - When you’re sick, your day goes from bad to worse. A small car breakdown later and you find yourself unexpectedly bumping into Natasha. 〛

〚 Wordcount - 2681 〛

〘 Check Out My Masterlist! 〙

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Waking up that fresh spring morning, you rolled over to snooze the alarm that had pulled you out of your slumber, hitting it lazily before letting gravity take control and send your arm flopping over the edge of the bed.

You groaned a little as it hit the edge of your bed, rubbing your elbow with an annoyed look as if somehow death-staring the metal frame would make up for it.

As you begrudgingly got out of bed, the chill of the early morning hit you, sending a shiver down your spine. You had to admit felt a bit off, today. Your head heavy and your throat scratchy but you ignored the signs of fatigue and finished getting dressed and ready for the day.

Nat was always one to be up and out early in the mornings. Running, training or sometimes even just reading, whatever it was, she was definitely up and ready for her day before sunrise. Early bird gets the worm? Well, the early widow gets her 90-minute workout in without being disturbed. She liked it that way.

Unfortunately, it meant you usually weren’t able to see her most days before heading out to work - the rare exception being when you were on a late shift and got a few extra hours at home before heading out.

You weren’t an Avenger like your girlfriend, instead you served the people of New York by working in the local hospital as the Chief Nurse in charge. It was a demanding job, but one you found incredibly rewarding.

The pouring rain grabbed back your wandering attention as you sat sleepily over your chosen bowl of cereal. You hadn’t really had an appetite but had forced a few bites down regardless before you lost interest. Checking your phone, you realised you needed to set off, so you grabbed your car keys and headed out the compound.

As you pulled into the hospital's parking lot, you mentally prepared yourself for the day ahead. You tried to clear your throat as you checked yourself over in the mirror, but it ended in you coughing raspily and sighing in defeat as you rubbed your throat. Maybe water would get rid of the soreness, you thought as you took a tentative sip from your bottle… nope, it still hurt. What a fun day this was going to be.

Whoever said being in charge was fun, was sorely mistaken. Throughout the morning, you found yourself raising your voice more often than usual to be heard over the cacophony of the emergency room. By midday, your voice had started to crack and strain, sending sharp pains down your throat with each word.

Eventually you resigned yourself to your office, sick (literally) of the mix of pitiful, disgusted and annoyed glances you were receiving from both residents and patients.

As you sat in your office, trying to soothe your aching throat and mustering the energy to tackle the mountain of paperwork on your desk, the hospital intercom made you jump as it crackled to life, urgently calling you to the ER.

You groaned but despite your muscle’s aching, your instincts kicked in, and you rushed out of your office towards the ER.

As you entered the chaotic room, your senses were assaulted by the echo of urgent voices and the sharp smell of antiseptic made your eyes water.

You had barely assessed the ongoing situation before a sudden sneeze erupted from you, surprising yourself with its volume. You’d quickly covered your mouth, but the damage was done. Several heads turned in your direction, eyebrows raised in concern.

Before you could even attempt to explain, your boss appeared, her expression a mix of concern and sternness. "What are you doing here, Y/N?" She asked, her tone indicating she already knew the answer.

You tried to muster a response, but your throat rebelled, emitting only a hoarse croak instead.

Your bosses' eyes softened slightly, an understanding look settling on her face. "You're ill," She stated matter-of-factly. "Go home, rest, and don't come back until you're fully recovered. We don’t need you starting an epidemic.”

Despite your protests, she ushered you out of the ER and back to your office to collect your belongings. She helped you collect your things, only stopping to hold a thermometer to your ear as she checked your temperature.

You thanked her hoarsely as she held open the door for you, “Seriously, I don’t want you back until 48 hours after that fever breaks.” She warned with a stern tone but the gentle pat on your back made it obvious she was just worried that’s all.

As you stepped out of the hospital, the chilly rain immediately soaked through your clothes, sending shivers down your spine. You dropped your keys twice as you fumbled to unlock your car, finally flopping down behind the wheel with an drained sigh - a sigh which your crackling lungs despised, reprimanding you in the form of a burning cough.

As you drove home, the rain beat relentlessly against the windshield, blurring the already dimly lit road ahead. Each cough sent a sharp pang through your chest, and your vision blurred with exhaustion. You tried to focus on driving safely, your mind drifting to the warmth of your bed and girlfriend waiting for you at home. Not long now…

But just as you approached a traffic light, your car sputtered, the engine emitting a series of ominous noises before finally giving out with a pathetic wheeze. Panic seized you as you coasted to the side of the road, hazard lights flashing weakly in the rain.

You tried to restart the engine, but it only responded with a feeble groan before falling silent again.

“Oh you piece of shit!” You slammed your hand on the wheel as the car’s engine light flickered an angry red, “Stupid, fucking-“ An awful cough broke off your curse, your grip on the wheel turning white as your lungs burned.

After you caught your breath, you leaned back in your seat, feeling utterly defeated. Each raindrop seemed to mock your predicament, drumming against the windshield like a cruel taunt. With a heavy heart and a pounding headache you pulled out your phone - fighting back exhausted tears as you saw the critical low battery warning flash up on the screen.

You didn’t know the number of any breakdown services or anyone that could really be of help. The most you were able to do was to text Tony to ask him to help you move your car tomorrow. He had always been quick to respond so you found your spirits lifting just an inch higher when he agreed. However, those spirits were surely crushed when you opened up the Uber app on your phone only for the screen to turn black, taunting you with the picture of an empty battery.

“For fucks sake!”

There was nothing more you could do. You’d just have to walk. Nobody was coming to save you. You were a grown girl. You can look after yourself. There was a grocery store just down this road, maybe 10 minutes or so. You’d be able to stop there, rest, maybe pick up a few supplies. There’d be a phone there too, you’d be able to call someone to pick you up.

As you trudged through the rain, each step heavier than the last, you had to practically drag yourself down the street as your congested lungs begged for air. It was hard for see through the constant rain; the whistling of the wind made your ears throb. The chill of your soaked clothes clung tightly to your skin, and the coughing fits continued to rack your exhausted body until finally you’d made it.

You didn’t wait any longer before heading inside. The bright fluoresce of the lights made your eyes sting a little but this was miles better compared to being outside getting battered by the rain.

With each stumbling step, you grabbed a basket make your way to find some medicine. You just wanted something to make you feel better, just anything that would put an end to your awful day.

Maybe you should get some actual groceries whilst you where did. It wouldn’t hurt to stock up the cupboards a little, you might as well consider you were here.

Little did you know your girlfriend was already one step ahead of you.

Natasha’s eyes widened a little as she strolled down the aisle, pushing along half a cart of groceries as she hummed. Y/N? What were you doing here? This was a pleasant surprise and she kept quiet as she snuck up to you.

“Hey bub.” Her warm voice murmured, and you felt familiar arms wrap around the front of your waist. Natasha’s head came to rest on your shoulder as she nosied at what you were looking at, “I thought we agreed that I’d be doing groceries this week.” She purred, kissing the side of your neck sweetly.

You shrugged through gritted teeth, your damp clothes crinkling uncomfortably, “I just needed something.”

“Hold on.” Her brow crinkled just a little, “I thought you had work?” She paused, her face shifting slightly as she realised just how soaked you were. This was not the kind of damp someone got just walking from the car to the entrance. You were drenched! “God, you’re soaked Y/N! Where on earth have you been? Did you walk here?!”

Your eyes cast to the floor. You’d forgotten that it was usually the day that the two of you had gone grocery shopping. Of course, it hadn’t even occurred to you that Nat might’ve been in the store.

“I may have got a little damp.” You sniffled thickly, trying to keep your tone neutral but the painful rasp in your voice instantly gave yourself away, “…and my car may or may not have broken down coming back from work.”

Natasha's concern deepened as she noticed your raspy voice. "Oh, sweetheart, you should have called me. I would've come to pick you up." Her voice softened, filled with genuine worry. Her grip tightened around you a little. “You're not just ‘damp’, you're practically drenched and- oh, what’s this?” Her eyes glanced down, noticing the theme of items in your own basket.

She had just about to ask you about them, but her question was answered when you ducked into your elbow with two forceful sounding sneezes barely seconds later.

“Double bless you!” Her tone shifted instantly to one of comfort, “Guess I don’t need to ask why your voice is so hoarse and you’re buying meds then, hm?” She cooed and you turned around with a pout, letting your head fall onto her shoulder as you wrapped your arms around her.

“You’re not feeling well.” It wasn’t a question, she just looked at you, looking deep into your weary eyes as she continued to hold you, “How long?”

You let out a small cough into her shoulder, “This morning. Got worse at work, got sent home which was beyond embarrassing.” Your croaking voice mumbled in defeat as Nat’s hand came to soothingly rub your back.

“I’m so tired and achy.” You continued, grumbling softly, finally feeling the weight of the day begin to let up as Nat continued to hold you in the moment, “My throat’s been so bad all day and I’ve had to constantly yell at people to do their jobs properly because apparently they’re all incompetent idiots that don’t know their elbows from their arse!”

Natasha couldn’t help but laugh a little at your choice of words but quickly shut up when you shot her a glare - of course the glare had been in no way intimidating with your sleepy eyes and runny nose, but she got the hint regardless.

“Sounds rough sunshine.” She murmured, sympathetically rubbing your back before the two of you began to walk towards another aisle, “Let me get those for you, oh and the car?” She asked, realising you hadn’t explained.

Nat took the basket from your hand and put it in her cart despite your objections, “It just decided to give up on me, right in the middle of driving home. I text Tony and he said he’d get it moved tomorrow but then my phone died before I could call an uber so I had to walk the way back.” You coughed harshly as you explained what had happened, rubbing your throat with a whine.

“That’s some awful luck sweetheart, I’m sorry. How about we get you a few things and just spend the rest of the day being warm and cosy?” Nat offered as a pulled a stuffed animal from the shelf, nuzzling it against your cheek before putting it into the cart.

Your face lightened up a little and you found yourself keeping a little closer to her as the pair of you continued through the store, “You wanna get some ice cream for that poor throat of yours sweet girl?” She asked, but of course she already what the answer would be.

As you nodded eagerly, Natasha smiled, glad to see a hint of brightness returning to your expression. She led you to the freezer section, picking out your favourite flavour without hesitation. "Here we go," she said, placing it gently in the cart beside you. "Oh, and we should get some tea as well, all we have is that herbal stuff Wanda likes but it’s kinda bitter, you’ll feel better with something sweeter. I think.”

She kept her hand softly holding your own you both headed over to find the tea - occasionally pausing as Nat picked up some of the general groceries you needed but it was hard to miss how she kept adding in small treats for you along the way, your favourite drink, snacks she even chose your favourite scent of laundry detergent.

Eventually your fever raging brain felt too fuzzy to keep paying attention, so you switched off, trusting her enough to let her lead you along without asking questions.

Her voice seemed to echo and your vision blur before a hand cupping your cheek brought you back to reality. “Hey, earth to Y/N.” Natasha repeated herself, “You dazed out for a second there sweetie. Did you hear what I said?”

“Uh, no, sorry.” You answered sheepishly, warm embarrassment creeping up into your cheeks.

But Nat only smiled at you, her warm gaze making you relax, “I asked what tea you’d like baby.”

You nodded and turned to look over the assortment of boxes. You weren’t much of a tea person, in fact you never really drank it at all unless you were sick and Nat was definitely more of a coffee girl, herself. As you looked over the selection, a sudden sneeze caught you off guard, you stumbled back a little and bumped into Nat which made your girlfriend shake her head fondly as you sniffled in surprise.

“Bless you again. Looks like we’ll need some more tissues," She deducted, kissing your cheek swiftly before jogging back to the previous aisle, quickly returning with a few extra boxes and added them to the cart.

"You poor thing," Nat said sympathetically, as she opened one of the boxes in the cart and handing you a tissue. "Here, blow your nose love.”

“Thanks.”

“Berry-Bliss?” She read the name of the tea you’d chosen, after you’d finished blowing nose. “Is that one the kind you want?”

You shrugged sluggishly, biting back a groan as your muscles ached, “I’ll give it a try.”

“Worth a try.” She agreed, taking the box from you, not missing the chance to kiss your forehead as she did so. “You’re really warm baby. How about we pay up and get you back home sweetheart? I know you’re exhausted.”

As she suggested heading home, you nodded gratefully, taking her hand and letting her lead you towards the check outs. It wouldn’t take long to pay and get home but when you did, you knew you were in for an evening of cuddling and love.

Who could ask for more?

〖 Join My Taglist! 〗@sayah13 @mahalkitanova @romanoffskisser @scrambled-brain-eggs @natashamyl0ve @bloomingflowersthings @kathleenmikaelson @shamelessbearunknown @inluvwithfictionalwomen @citrussnz @fluffyblanketgecko @kljhsong @santana1437 @blackwidow-3 @asiangmrchk13 @lovelyy-moonlight @juiles @lots-of-pockets @sashawalker2 @natashamaximoff69 @observeowl @beholdagaywriter @widows201 @llovergirleraa @danveration @idkeithershawty @rainedontknow @poison-blackheart @loveshineslikethesky @somber-sapphic @lexasaurs634 @ahintofchaos @scarlettssub @paisley-yy @wandanats-goodgirl @nuianced-tck-enby @maomaoincomming @anne-lister @rianlovelygirl @taliiiaasteria @swaqcenix @inluvwithfandom

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff fanfic #sickfic #fluff #whump #comfort #marvel #mcu #natasha romanoff sickfic #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff comfort #natasha romanoff imagine

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chubs-deuce · 2 months

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(^it's his turn with the child but he has an overlod meeting so this is how he shows up)

I brainstormed a bunch with some friends on a server for how Dawn came to be and we had many fun ideas, some of which I'll elaborate on under the cut for anyone who wants to hear :D

Dawn was kind of created by accident! With Lute in charge of the exterminations now, Sera trying to hide Sir Pentious' redemption and her eyes opened towards heaven's doings, Emily wants to make good on her promise to help Charlie's efforts in hell. She learns through Remiel that heaven has been safekeeping Lucifer's old grimoire since he fell and decides that Charlie as his rightful heir should have it, hoping something in it would help her defend the hotel. It's written in the ancient language of the angels though, and while Charlie is able to translate it, she's by no means fluent in the language, but they find a ritual for the creation of an infinitely powerful weapon! Alastor of course is intrigued when she tells him of this and so he leverages his status as her work partner (and a powerful mage in his own right no less) to convince her to let him help attempt it. They figure out the components needed to fufil the ritual and perform it perfectly and create... a child. (this is because the definition of "weapon" can differ greatly depending on who you ask - it can be a sword, it can be ruthlessness, or it can be words, courage, hope and kindness. The ritual would therefore merely provide a blank slate for them to mold into whatever they need it to be! Charlie mistranslated slightly, since the word used in the ritual would translate more to "tool".)

Charlie and Alastor aren't (yet) romantically involved when Dawn gets created, though she does pull them together out of necessity over time. Alastor is very apprehensive about the concept and insists something must've gone wrong, but ultimately he absolutely recognizes that no matter the intended outcome, he's got a responsibility now, and decides he's at least got to be a better parent than his own father was, so he stubbornly still does what he can to raise this kid. Charlie is overwhelmed with the sudden responsibility they've both been burdened with at first - especially because she already has so many other things to worry about and take care of - but her infamous bleeding heart of course can't deny following its calling. I actually don't think her innate maternal instincts are particularly strong? Ultimately neither of them asked to be a parent and the upheaval of their personal lives that came with it, but they quickly learn to love their newest resident and how it ends up redefining and redrawing their own relationship to each other as well >:D

The newly shared responsibility for a literal child is what finally gets Alastor to cave into agreeing to acquire a phone with a camera - if only to soothe Charlie's nerves whenever she can't be there herself.

A friend from the server even wrote up a whole detailed ritual for me to visualize this whole thing and offered to help with insight on like. Heaven lore(?) and adding onto this concept if need be and I'm honestly having a blast with figuring out the details of this plot, so I might attempt writing a fic out fo this if I can solidify it all a bit better?

Either way, this is kind of escalating into a Whole Thing but I hope y'all are enjoying it nonetheless :'D

#charlastor #radiobelle #charlastor fankid #hazbin hotel #alastor #the radio demon #Alastor is the girldad of all time change my mind #hazbin hotel oc #chubs ocs #dawn morningstar #digital fanart #digital art #fanart #art #my art

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sant-riley · 2 years

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[ More task force 141 × OFC! reader headcanons] [pt2]

A/N: thank yall so much for all the love on the last hcs!! I hope these live up to yalls expectations <3 please tell me which ones are yalls favorites <3!!!

CW: She/her pronouns, Codename is Teddy, Simping, crude humor, Age gaps, cursing, British slander (if I miss anything, let me know!)

If you dye your hair, Ghost helps you dye it when y'all go on extended leave. The military doesn't allow unnatural colors so when you have a few weeks to a couple of months, he'll be the one to ask. "Cm'ere, I got the bleach already."

The guys like to go with her when/if she gets tattooed. Do they know what she's getting inked? Nope, but they like to keep her company and will go get her food if needed.

Teddy vocal stims,, alot. She has picked up on "Fuckin' hell" and it has yet to leave her brain and Ghost just stares in amusement. You can hear her echo it back to them once he says it on a mission.

Teddy is her codename but her nicknames vary from who's talking about her!

Ghost: Ted, Teds, Sweetheart, Runt

Soap: Bonnie, Rascal, Barra, Lass

Price: Rookie, Dear

Gaz: Love, Darling, Hun

They get on her ASS for being an American. They will poke fun at her every fucking chance esp if she speaks in slang.

Price shakes his head and tries to teach her the "proper" way of speaking but all she does is mock the accent. He has since given up.

The first time they see her off duty, it's shock. She looks so different when she's not in uniform, (if you have it: dyed hair, makeup) her normal civilian clothes. Soap is almost convinced it's not Teddy until she smacks him upside the head and calls him an asshole.

Being the first one to see Ghosts face because you're having a breakdown about all the murder and bullshit you've gone through, crying profusely and no one knows how to help bc everyone just shoves it down and represses it.

He trusts you, he knows he does so it doesn't take him much to take you into a secluded room and expose himself. He will say that seeing you silently stare up at him with awe made his feelings grow for you. He will not, but his heart definitely would.

Soap actively teaching you how to curse in Gaelic bc he thinks it's funny with your accent. Too bad you can barely understand when he tries teaching you so you're just kinda staring at him dead eyed.

Soap plays with your hair, alot. It soothes him to run his fingers through it or simply to yank it bc he's a little dickhead. He's the kind of person who'd let your hair routine and learn how to help you take care of it.

Ghost and Price straight up rustle your hair and thinks it's funny when you shove their hand away and get all huffy lmfao.

HELPING SOAP SHAVE HIS MOHAWK, there's no barber on base so you're the next best thing he has. Many of the team have walked in with Soap sitting between your legs bc he's way too fucking tall for you to cut his hair comfortably. Ghost walking in with you holding a razor to Soap's neck and just turning around and walking out immediately.

Price has given you a cigar to smoke, he knows for a damn fact you cannot handle it and laughs his ass off when you sputter. Top 10 favorite moments of his.

Gaz likes to give you British foods to try, he knows for a damn fact you will not like it.

"C'mon love, just one bite?" "I am not fucking eating beans on toast, you're insane." "It's a good meal!"

He gets so fucking mad when yall go to Las Almas and you devour the food there. Literally pouts bc he sees you with Alejandro and Rudy eating food and laughing together.

You play video games alot when on leave, please imagine trying to teach Ghost on the newer games that are out now. You make fun of him calling him an old man but he actually fucking wins potg/apex most of the time and looks at you smug as hell.

No one knows why you're called Teddy, so they all make up their own stories but you neither confirm nor deny. Soap says it's bc you're cuddly and cute like a teddy bear while Ghost says its bc you can maim someone like one. Duality of man.

Speaking of cuddling, it's not uncommon to have to huddle for warmth on missions. They all manhandle you to them and they all slightly do it differently.

Ghost sits you front to front with your chests touching While he sits up, arms around your waist with him playing with his knife, staring past your head and at the wall.

Price presses you into his side, a arm wrapped around your shoulders as he tells you stories about missions gone wrong, the smell of cigar smoke flooding your senses.

Soap also sits you on his lap with your back against his front while he buries his face in your hair. He tells you stories about his childhood and growing up with his mom, he wants yall to meet one day.

Gaz is usually the best prepared and has either a sleeping bag or a blanket, so he wraps it around yall making sure you're more covered than he is and sits close, yalls legs intertwined.

They worry so fucking much about you, you're young and while they have come to love and appreciate you, they can't help but wish you were anywhere else but here risking your life.

"You're too young to be here Kid." "And you weren't?" Ghost has to swallow down how much he wants to scream that he just wants you safe but he knows that's not his place, he isn't your boyfriend or husband.

Alejandro has doubts when everything goes to shit if they can trust you, since he hadn't seen much of you like he had with Ghost and Soap. But then he sees the way they speak about you and how these two burly strong men get a tender look in their eyes. He finds it funny but also feels great respect to you. It is not easy to get task force 141 to care so much about a new member but hey, you did it.

Alejandro takes you out dancing and drinking when you go back to visit Las Almas. He knows how to dance so fucking well and it's always a good time. He always has his hands on your waist and always makes sure you're okay with it. Perfect gentleman 10/10

Now Graves thinks that you're just some stupid kid but realizes quickly that while you can fight your own battles, you never need to. Just one look at Ghost staring daggers into his forehead is enough for him to swallow his tongue less it gets cut out.

Laswell treats you like her own kid, especially when she finds out if you have a bad home life. She always makes sure you're stocked up on necessaties at the base and invites you for lunch along with her wife often. She is the first one you call when you have anything personal to speak of and she is the mother figure you have while on missions.

Taglist <3 (If you'd like to be tagged in future works, please comment under my rules that are pinned to my blog!)

@tamayakii @teacupcollector @sweet-as-an-angel @marsbar127xx

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moonstruckme · 7 months

Note

I am literally obsessed with doctor!Remus. You've opened my heart to something new hahah. If it's alright, could you maybe do Doctor!Remus calming the reader down from a panic attack? Maybe they got to overworked and just had one. It happens to me sometimes

Thanks lovely <3

cw: panic attack

doctor!Remus x fem!reader ♡ 979 words

The embarrassing part is that it comes on when you’re supposed to be having fun. Bogged down by work for weeks now, you’d thought you could meet up for coffee with friends and get through some paperwork while they chatted, but you should have known better. James Potter leaves no man behind, and you keep being pulled away from your work by his relentless geniality. One second James is talking to you about he and Lily’s debate over what color to repaint their kitchen, the next an invisible hand closes over your windpipe.

“I’ve got to—I’ll be right back.” You stand as composedly as you can, beelining for the coffee shop’s restroom. You can hear your heartbeat like the pounding drum of doomsday. You can feel it in your teeth. You rattle the restroom door, but it’s locked, and you press your back to the wall, gasping around the nausea and panic clogging in your throat. You try to remember what you’re supposed to do. There are things you can do, things that are supposed to help, but nothing can help. Nothing can save you from this.

“Hey, let’s sit down,” a calm voice says. Remus. You let him push your shoulders down the wall, legs folding into your chest. “There we go. You’re okay.”

“I can’t—I don’t—”

“Shh, I know. Focus on…focus on the end of the hall. How many chairs are there?”

You turn your head, trying to count the chairs you can see stacked in the corner. They’re hard to distinguish, and you keep losing track. You’re going to be sick.

Slender fingers sneak down to your wrist, feeling your pulse. “Breathe, dove.”

Your head spins, an acute ache forming in your chest. “I—I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.” You feel his touch on the back of your neck, lifting your hair. He presses something cold and wet in its place. “Like me, alright?”

He inhales deeply. You do your best to follow.

“Good,” he says on the exhale. “Good job, sweetheart. You’re doing so well. Keep focusing on the chairs.”

“I can’t count them,” you tell him desperately.

“That’s alright. Then just breathe for now, if that’s easier.”

He picks up the wrist he’s been holding, setting your palm to his chest. You feel his ribs expand, and try to puff yours to mirror him. A dribble of water slips from the back of your neck to your collar, down your shirt. The door to the restroom opens, the occupant hustling away when they notice you on the floor. Remus ignores them, so you do too. The inhales are the hardest. He’s breathing in for longer now that he feels you can handle more. The ache in your chest is easing, but still tender.

“You’re going to be alright,” he promises, voice low and soothing. “You always are, remember?”

You shake your head, tears blurring your vision.

“You are. It’ll pass, honey.”

You try to believe him.

“Want to try counting the chairs again? I’ll do it with you this time.”

You don’t really, but you want what Remus wants, so you look up.

“Okay, let’s start with that small stack. How many?”

You take a second, but this one is easier than the larger stack you’d tried before. “Six.”

“Good.” His lips drop to the top of your head, the kiss so quick it’s barely there. “Now the one next to it.”

You have to start over once, but Remus is patient, thumb soothing over your wrist while you work. “Um, seventeen. I think.”

“I got seventeen too,” he reassures you. “You’re doing so well, dove. One more, okay?”

You nod. It’s getting easier. You count quietly in your head. “Fifteen, right?”

“Right.” Remus kisses between your brows, mindless of the sweat you can feel sticking the baby hairs to your face. He adjusts his grip on your wrist, silent while he re-checks your pulse. “Feeling better, lovely girl?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, the familiar shakiness of the comedown taking you. You shiver, and Remus removes the cold thing from your neck. It’s a water bottle, dripping with condensation. “Thanks for coming after me.”

“Of course,” he murmurs, brows stitching together now the danger has passed. “I knew coffee was a bad idea after the week you’ve had. I should have told you to get decaf.”

You sigh, leaning forward until your forehead hits his shoulder. “I thought I needed the energy.”

“You’ve been overworking yourself, dove. Time to start taking more breaks.”

After what you’ve just gone through, you can’t even argue. “Okay.” You squeeze your eyes closed. You know, logically, that you have a tendency to get teary after attacks, but that doesn’t make your fragile emotions feel any less real. You’d come here to be around your friends, and you’d ended up needing to do breathing exercises on the floor outside the bathroom. “I’m sorry.”

Remus is used to the aftermath too. He rubs heavy circles into your back, kissing the shell of your ear. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. These things happen, and all we can do is whatever we can to keep it from happening again, but no part of it is your fault or embarrassing. Understand?”

He’s speaking to you softly, remonstrance gentled, but he waits until you nod against his shoulder to go on.

“Good. Ready to go home?”

You raise your head to look at him. “Shouldn’t we stay for a bit?”

Remus gives you a small smile, clasping your trembling hands between his. “I think you’re going to want a nap in a minute here, sweetheart. They’re our friends, they’ll understand.”

You laugh a little, and it rings of shaky nervousness. “I guess you’re right.”

He stands, encouraging you up with him by your joined hands. “I’m always right, dove. The sooner you figure that out, the easier things will be for both of us.”

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faegutz · 1 year

Note

Hmmmm cuz I have a headache rn, what about the 141( + Konig and Los vaqueros) helping a gn reader with a migrane?

migraines and how they help ☆ pairing: 141 + los vaqueros + konig × gn! reader

authors note: i barely have migraines but when i do it hurts so much. Im gonna be honest and say im not too proud of these and i had no idea what to write sometimes- But hope you feel better soon anon and i hope you enjoy! :)

tags: migraine, hurt comfort?, domestic, probably ooc, medicine mentions, soft cod men

"CAPTAIN JOHN PRICE"

- dad mode activated !

- has a whole cabinet specifically full of medicine, some thermometers, etc.

- gives you some aspirin and water

- the type to make you go to bed and nap and will refuse to let you get out of bed or do anything yourself

- just tell him what you need and he'll get it!! no need to get up

- will lay down with you and caress your face, occassionaly giving you soft kisses on the forehead

- will always take care of you when you dont feel good and make sure you feel better before he stops

"Let me take care of you,"

"SIMON GHOST RILEY"

- kinda confused on how hes supposed to help you but hes trying okay

- will go to the store and get you something that will help you with the pain

- hes never really taken care of someone before so hes a little awkward

- he wants you to lay down and get some rest but he also doesnt want to baby you

- so he just kinda stands there while you do your thing, watching and waiting in case you need his help with anything

- if you ask him to lay down with you, he will and he'll make sure to hold you close

- "It's okay, love,"

"JOHN SOAP MACTAVISH"

- i feel like he gets sick maybe once a year so he has no clue how to even help with a migraine

- will stand in the medicine aisle at the store, staring at every single thing thats on the shelf and having no clue what to grab

- doesnt want to call you and bother you because youre in pain, so he ends up asking someone else in the aisle what the hell youre supposed to get for a migraine

- gets home about 5 minutes later than he should because he took so long just standing in the store with a confused look on his face

- will make you soup or something warm because that usually helped him when he was sick or in pain

- he almost started a fire because he forgot he was even making you food since he was more distracted by worrying over you and making sure you were comfortable !! how fun

- "Uh, the soup is burnt.."

"KYLE GAZ GARRICK"

- he definitely gets sick often, and hes almost an expert on how to help you

- makes sure you drink water regularly and occasionally take an aspirin

- most of the migraines hes ever gotten was because he was stressed

- so he practically gives you a therapy session and asks you what gave you the headache and if you were stressed

- lets you just talk it out if you were stressed

- keeps a close eye on you and makes sure you drink enough water and that you eat

- "Tell me whats been bothering you,"

"ALEJANDRO VARGAS"

- immediately notices that youre in pain when he sees you wince or squint your eyes

- is ready with pain medication and some water

- he offers to give you a back massage and hes very skilled with his hands so it feels amazing

- he makes sure to close all the blinds or curtains so its darker inside so the pain is less for you

- whispers in your ear about how much he loves you just so you feel relaxed and comfortable

- gives you kisses on the top of your head and soothingly rubs your back in circles

- "Te amo mucho,"

"RODOLFO RUDY PARRA"

- out of all the characters on this list, I have a feeling he would definitely be the best caretaker for you

- makes sure you get sleep and drink water, will literally hold you down if he has to

- he holds you against his chest while you sleep, staying by your side the whole time

- will cook meals for you and basically do everything for you

- suggests turning on some soothing noises or guided meditation sounds on the TV that will help you relax

- he also will brush your hair/do your hair for you if you find it relaxing

- "Solo relájate, cariño."

"KONIG"

- ohh hes so sorry that youre in pain and he tries his best to comfort you in any way he can

- hes not sure what to do himself but if you ask anything of him he will get right on it

- frequently asks if youre comfortable or if you need him to do anything

- it almost gets annoying, but he just wants to make sure youre taken care of and that you feel better soon

- he has no clue how to cook most things so he does the next best thing and goes to the store and buys all your favorite snacks for you

- "Do you need anything else, meine liebe?"

#call of duty #modern warfare 2 #x reader #call of duty x reader #könig x reader #price x reader #ghost x reader #soap x reader #gaz x reader #alejandro x reader #rodolfo x reader #cod x reader

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cre8inghavoc · 29 days

Text

Can't help it...

pairing: inumaki x f!reader

summary: Transferring to a new school is tough, but having your three best friends there makes it easier. Things get even more interesting when you start falling for the mysterious boy who rides his motorcycle to school every day. What will happen next?

a/n: i should be studying but here i am thinking abt motorcycle Toge... also i hate how some ppl see him as a small and weak (physically?!) bitch boy like erm tf no!? he is far from that and he's sooooo fineee.

genre/warnings: [18+] Characters are aged up. Story contains cursing, new friends, alcohol, college!au, no curse!au, dark humour, SMAU and written parts, fluff, smut.

For years now, you and Inumaki have been very close friends, it started from the moment you transferred to a new college.

3 Years Ago...

He was always the quiet type, the one who preferred hanging at the back of the class, alone, away from others.

As you stepped into the classroom for the first time, you greeted your classmates with a friendly nod. When the teacher welcomed you and offered a choice of seats, you made your way to the back of the room, deliberately keeping a distance from the other person who is also sitting there. Though there were plenty of spots up front, you preferred the quiet and privacy that the back provided, especially since you were new and not keen on drawing attention to yourself. It just felt right to have your own space in the back of the class.

It soon became a familiar routine: every morning, you'd enter the classroom and gravitate towards the back, taking your seat next to Inumaki. At first, he appeared slightly irritated by the intrusion, but as weeks passed, that annoyance seemed to fade away. Perhaps he realized it wasn't entirely within his control, or maybe he simply grew accustomed to your presence. Either way, it didn't seem to bother him much anymore, and frankly, you didn't dwell on it either.

Whenever you found yourself with spare time in class—be it after finishing assignments early or completing a test ahead of schedule—you'd often turn to doodling in your notebook. It was a soothing pastime, allowing your mind to wander while your hand sketched away. Initially, your doodles revolved around animals and random objects, but soon you found yourself drawn to sketching things you actually liked: cars and motorcycles.

You had a particular interest in sports cars, especially Japanese models like the GT-R, GR86, and 350/370Z. The sleek lines and powerful engines captivated your imagination, and you poured your passion into every detail of your drawings. From envisioning custom modifications to simply making them look jaw-droppingly cool.

Then, unexpectedly, motorcycles entered the picture, quite literally. One day, as you made your way to class, a Yamaha R3 parked outside the school caught your attention. Despite never having been particularly interested in bikes before, something about this one intrigued you. It sparked a newfound curiosity that led you to delve into research, eager to learn more.

Every day for the past week, that Yamaha R3 parked outside the school became your muse. You would walk into class, take your seat and before your class even begins, you'd take a moment to sketch the bike, capturing its sleek contours and intricate features. With each passing day, you discovered new details to incorporate into your drawing, whether it was the curve of the exhaust pipes or the pattern on the seat. It became a daily routine.

SMAU

GUYS I FR WASNT GONNA MAKE THIS AN SMAU BUT THIS FRIEND GROUP IS ALWAYS TALKING TO EACH OTHER SO I THOUGHT IT WOULD BE FUN

also this is like 50% written and 50% smau (im gonna try to make the next few chapters AFTER chapter 5 more smau)

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meowzfordayz · 8 months

Text

NSFW Alphabet — Tomioka Giyuu

Author’s Note: ~1.5 months after starting this (and ~3 months since it was supposed to be started 🥴), and it’s finally finished !!!!! 🥳 If these were shorter headcanons, then they wouldn’t take so long 😅, but each individual letter is a labor of love (and lust 😏). As w/ all hcs, these are simply my opinions in this exact moment of writing, and are subject to change depending on the context/my mood! 😉

NSFW Alphabet — Tomioka Giyuu

Tomioka Giyuu x Reader

Word Count: ~3,500

CW: 18+NSFW, explicit language, Fem!Reader, oral, rimming, spit

MILESTONE 20.0

~faqs~

Aftercare? what they’re like after sex

Giyuu’s very sleepy after sex. If you’ve discussed it beforehand, then he’ll muster up the energy to gently towel wash you, brush your hair (if things got ~intense 😉), and make sure you drink a glass of water, but he’s otherwise hopeless. And by “hopeless”, I mean: he’s passing out with his cock still leaking onto your thighs, warm mouth smooshed into your shoulder, and will moan softly—Hnngg—and proceed to roll over should you attempt to wake him. 😌

Body Part? their favorite body part(s)

Giyuu’s a thigh guy, or GTTG (Giyuu The Thigh Guy) for short. 🦵 Don’t get me wrong! He could totally cum fixating on basically any part of your body 🫢, buuut nestled between your thighs… life couldn’t get much better. 😌 He isn’t huge on marking you (aka: he is, but he typically refrains because one hickey is a sure slide to two, then four, then seven, then- 😇), but biting softly at your thigh, listening to you squeal, halfheartedly attempting to push him away as his fingers wrap around your knees, tongue slipping out to soothe your fresh “wound” — he’s entertained himself with your thighs for literal hours, and not necessarily even sexually. 😆 He’ll often push your legs apart just so he can rest his head on the plush of your thigh, the rest of his body cradled by the curves of your knees and calves.

If you were a vampire, then Giyuu would surely be your first victim, because his neck is just: 😍😋🩸❣️ It’s kissable, nuzzle-able, biteable, and sooo fun to rile him up with a simple swipe of your tongue (bonus points if you suck on his Adam’s apple 🤤). He smells delicious too; a gentle, unassuming fragrance of ripples on a pond (whatever those smell like 🌊) that’s strongest where his neck meets his ears. Step in close and interlock your fingers behind his neck, and he’s certain to wrap his arms around your waist, surroundings fading to a hazy buzz as he murmurs, “I love you.”

Cum?

Giyuu loves cum while he’s still horny (something about the way it glistens and slides down the backs of your thighs, collecting in droplets on your puffy folds, slightly watery and warm as it slowly dampens the mattress beneath you… he’s fixated for sure 😌), but as soon as post nut clarity hits, he’s desperate for a shower (something about its smell and stickiness, clinging to your skin—and his—reminding him of how amazing you felt… and of how messy things got… if you’re taking too long to collect yourself, then he’s scooping you up and carrying you to the bathroom for sure 🫠).

Dirty Talk?

He loves dirty talk, but has to pass a certain threshold (of horniness) to really ~get into it. 😅 Before that threshold, a simple So pretty baby while straddling his hips, your fingertips stroking his softly toned abs, will guarantee you a blushing, flustered Tomioka Giyuu, his own grip tightening around your waist. And after that threshold? 👀 Best believe you’ll be the flustered one, low whimpers pushed out of your chest as a cool hand rests gentle around your throat, steadying your body while his cock fucks needy and forceful into your warm, clenching hole.

Experience? their level of experience

Before meeting you, Giyuu isn’t a virgin, but he’s also far from experienced. He knows how to have sex, knows how to make someone else cum, but he doesn’t know how to enjoy himself. He’s always been physically sensitive—always quick to orgasm with enough wetness and friction—but physical pleasure without its emotional counterpart only does so much. And then he falls in love with you. 🥺💙 He falls in love with how delicately you kiss the tops of his shoulder, across his collarbones, tongue swirling in the hollow of his throat. Falls in love with how easily you raise goosebumps on his forearms, his thighs, your fingertips grazing lightly—teasingly—along the seams of his clothing, toying with the buttons on his shirt, the zipper on his pants, not willing to undress him unless he begs. In love with how begging means catching your wrists and holding them above your head, brought to neediness by your tender ministrations, safe enough to seek his own desires in the heat of your breathlessness. “I want to cum,” he whispers gruffly, your pulse warm in his palms, “So help me.”

Foreplay?

Giyuu thoroughly enjoys foreplay, to the extent that he has trouble lasting through it. 😅 He actually fares better when you go down on him, because he can guide your movements and pace. His large hands—normally cool to the touch and tender in their intentions—firmly cup your nape, sweaty and needy as your hair tangles soft between his fingers. When you choke on the sensation of his cock nudging against the back of your throat, he can only whimper and groan, hips chasing the quiver and wetness of your breath, grip ensuring you remain planted between his thighs. And when he’s close to cumming? He’s strong enough to gently tug you away from him, your lips shiny and insatiable, a low whine kissing his skin as you pout. But when he goes down on you? That same attention dissipates. Lost in the heat and clench of your thighs, the ache in his scalp as you cling to his hair, the incoherent babble of pleasure spilling from your mouth while you tremble and arch before him… is it really his fault for cumming with you? 🙃 After all, you didn’t stop him from thrusting his hips into the mattress, the edge of the couch, his own fist, as he flicked his tongue over your clit. You didn’t stop him as he whispered about how Beautiful, Stunning, Divine, Fuck… I think I’m gonna cum… you were, your moans rising in pitch as you met his dazed expression, his eyes dark and determined, the tip of his nose glistening with your essence. You didn’t stop him as his body shuddered before you, his cum splurting sticky and pearlescent, the taste of your orgasm gushing tart and warm onto his tongue.

Goofy? their sense of humor

In the beginning, Giyuu’s uber serious… mostly because he’s worried about dying of embarrassment should he fumble while trying to get/keep you in the mood. 🫠 That’s not to say he’s incapable of smiling! He doesn’t want you to think he’s having a terrible time either. 🥴 But gosh forbid he accidentally fart, or nudge himself against the wrong hole, or elbow you in the face, or- 😭 Eventually, however, he slips into a deeper comfort and trust with you, which inevitably leads to him smooshing your hair, chuckling when you queef, and taking a breather when you become literally tangled in the sheets (you can’t stop laughing, and he somehow finds himself grinning adoringly at you vs running out the door in mortification). 🥺

Hair? pubes maintenance

Giyuu keeps himself well groomed due more to habit and personal comfort, but hey — you benefit too! Plus, you know you’ve reached peak closeness when you’re showering together and you randomly ask, “My love, could I trim your pubes tonight?” and instead of shoving you out of the shower, curtain rod and all, he just blushes a deep red and mutters, “Yeah, okay.” 😶

Intimacy? their degree of intimacy

Intimacy and Giyuu are a complicated duo. 😅 On one hand, Giyuu definitely isn’t casual; casual and physical closeness, casual and feelings, casual and sex, are not how he prefers to pair such concepts. But intimacy is difficult for him too, because intimacy means trusting, and trusting means revealing his nakedness — not just undressing his lover. While you know from the get go that you aren’t just a one night stand, friends with benefits, or connected in some other vaguely defined manner, you also initially aren’t entirely sure exactly how deeply rooted his intentions and desires are. After all, he’s shy about meeting your gaze, keeps the lights dim, and hardly moans or closes his eyes… until you finally, finally ask him about it. “Giyuu, what am I to you?” 🥺 “I don’t understand.” 🙃 “I… well, I feel like when we have sex, you make love to me, but I somehow can’t make love to you.” He doesn’t properly answer you, seconds from dreamland after tiredly wiping his cum off your thighs 😴, but he was listening, and the next time he finds himself sliding slowly into you, he cracks a smile—rather than glance away—when you catch him in his contented daze. 💓

Jack Off? masturbation

Giyuu goes through phases of jerking off every day of the week to not touching himself for upwards of a month. There’s no pattern to the duration or frequency of each phase, and he doesn’t really consciously think about it either. Sometimes he’s horny, and other times he’s just not. That being said, solo masturbation and sexual acts with others (others being you) are separate entities to him. Whether he just came that same morning, or hasn’t cum alone in a couple of weeks, he’s always more than willing to feel your pretty cunt (or throat, or hands, because he’s not about to be picky) flutter and squeeze around his cock.

Kink? ~specific turn ons

Lace. 😍 Giyuu knows lace is often rough and uncomfortable 🥲, but there’s just something divine about seeing your breasts in lace and satin; about running calloused palms up your scantily clad thighs (if you ever want to buy a(nother) garter, then Giyuu will always hand you his credit card — no questions asked 😌), snapping your frilly waistband against your plush, warm hips; lapping at the delicate material covering your nipples till they’re perky and damp, gushing about You’re absolutely stunning and Can’t decide if I’d rather fuck you with these beautiful panties on or off. Sometimes, he’ll literally stop and stare (or make you ~model for him 😵‍💫), breath caught in his chest at how perfectly the floral embroidery matches your eyes; at how ethereal and whimsical you appear, the facade of angelic elegance dissipating as you perch on all fours before him, teasing fingers tugging at the sorry excuse of a string between your cheeks. “The longer you wait, the more likely I am to ruin these panties,” you purr, craning your neck to stare over your shoulder at his awestruck expression, “You wouldn’t want that, hm? Wouldn’t want me to have to buy a new set of lace for you?” Spoiler alert: of course he wants you to buy another set of lace for him 😖, but he quite likes your current set too 🥴, so he’s quick to lean over you, mouth messy and hot as he kisses you thoroughly, clever hand slipping underneath you to cup and knead your tit while his other maintains his balance on the mattress.

Location? where they prefer to have sex

Call him basic, but Giyuu likes having sex in bed. 🤗 It’s comfortable, safe, and a sturdy headboard (+ a couple of velcro straps and/or handcuffs) can make it not-so-vanilla too. He’s the reason you have so many pillows, because while he’s okay with taking one for the team and sleeping in any cum spots 🫡, he refuses to sleep on a stained pillow (understandable 😝). As a man who gets extra sleepy after sex, changing sheets/pillowcases usually isn’t in the cards for him, so he’d rather just have plenty of pillows and swap them out when necessary.

Motivation? ~general turn ons

Being nice to him. Giyuu’s got a bit of a praise kink, albeit less so that he’ll get go from zero to erection emergency zone if you compliment him 😆, and more so that he remembers your kindness and attentiveness throughout the day, and returns your care and affection tenfold at night 😉. He also appreciates clean and tidy nails, genuine smiles (although your fake laughter—when not targeted at him—does make him chuckle 🫢), and when you playfully tug his hair to redirect his focus. “Oi, babe, I said left,” you huff amusedly, pointing across the street. He nods slowly, smirking faintly as he promptly continues heading in the wrong direction (if only to get you to tug on his hair again 😌).

No? turn offs

Giyuu’s pretty flexible. 😌 He can be kinky (after reading a dozen or so ~articles about how exactly to go about exploring X kink), he can be vanilla, but he isn’t into cheating/cuckolding. 😓 Not even for a roleplay scenario. He could be (pretty easily) discussed into having a threesome, or simply a voyeuristic counterpart 👀, but No. Cheating. He trusts that you love him, and he knows he loves you, but it just feels a lil too real to even think about, let alone play out. 😕

Oral? giver or receiver

Giyuu tends to be the receiver, because he has a 50/50 chance of lasting through foreplay whenever he’s the giver. 😶 That being said, he doesn’t exactly have a ~preference, and definitely doesn’t perceive giving oral sex to be a chore, annoying, or tiresome — he just doesn’t want to disappoint you by cumming too soon should you still desire penetrative sex after oral sex.

Position? their favorite position(s)

Doggystyle, because Giyuu can’t get enough of hearing his thighs slap against yours. 🫢 From cupping the tops of your thighs and pulling your body toward him to both steady himself and fuck deeper into your cunt, to gripping the inside of your thighs to spread your legs farther apart while spitting lazily on your back Fuck, so fucking filthy for me, to listening to how sweaty and eager you are as your skin clings and claps to his, doggystyle is easily his favorite. A close second, when either of you are feeling too lazy for doggystyle, would be missionary, because once again, Giyuu can use your thighs to pull you closer and spread you wider (and his spit + your boobs = ✨shiny boobs✨).

Quickie? a fan or not-a-fan

Giyuu isn’t a huge fan of quickies (not enough time to devour you whole), but your first few times together were quick nonetheless. 😏💀 After he’s gotten over his initial awe (let’s be honest tho — he never really gets over it 😍), he’s better about not ~accidentally making everything a quickie 😝, but you lowkey still have him wrapped around your finger. 😇 In other words, Giyuu doesn’t like ‘em, but you have the power to create them whenever you so desire. 😎😂

Risk? their risk tolerance

Low risk tolerance. 🙃 In theory, Giyuu isn’t against sexual risk taking (i.e. semi public sex), but in practice, he gets too flustered-embarrassed-mortified-at-the-thought-of-being-caught 🫣 to actually follow through. If you casually mention how hot it would be If you pressed me up against this wall and slipped your hand under my skirt to feel how wet I am, then he’ll do the press-you-up-against-the-wall part 😏, but will shakily vice grip the hem of your skirt, unable to continue (he wants to 😭, but just can’t 🥴).

Stamina?

In terms of how long Giyuu can fuck you in a single position before his muscles give out? He has practically unlimited stamina. 😎 His lanky, lithe physique isn’t purely for show y’know! 😉 It’s for holding you up against a wall, cock thrusting upward into your dripping cunt as your nails dig crescent moons into his shoulders, his face buried in your neck as he focuses intently on the slick, lewd sound of his balls tapping your pretty asshole. And for holding you up above him while you straddle his hips, your legs cramping from exhaustion—Aw darling, can’t ride me any longer?—adoration in his eyes as he begins fucking roughly into your pussy, delirious on how willingly you allow him to pleasure your body. However, in terms of how long Giyuu can fuck you before he cums? … … … he’s working on it. 🫠 That being said, he makes up for premature orgasms with potential quantity! 😏 If you’re feeling especially horny, then he can usually manage an orgasm morning, noon, and night 🥰 — just don’t expect much out of him the following day. 😵‍💫😂

Toys?

Giyuu might be a lil jealous of them. 🤪 Not actually, he’s not that insecure of himself and your relationship… but you could totally rile him up by starting without him, winking exaggeratedly with your favorite vibrator grazing your clit as he walks into the bedroom, giggling when he promptly plops onto the bed beside you, still fully clothed, hand nudging you and your toy out of his way as he grumbles halfheartedly, “So I guess I didn’t need to hurry up the stairs after all, you’ve got everything taken care of.” 😔 Your failsafe solution? Gently grasp his noticeable bulge, and declare, “Clearly not everything, seeing as I’ve yet to solve this problem.” 😌😉😏😎 Will he cringe at your cheesiness? Yes. 🥴 Will he also frantically begin unzipping and kicking off his pants? Also yes. 😳

Unfair? how they feel about teasing/being teased

Tease at your own discretion, because Giyuu can not handle it. 😃 He enjoys it! But his imagination does wonders at filling in the blanks you’re leaving, and if you’re not careful, then he might just spill over before you’re ready! 😅 Teasing you goes pretty much the same, because as much as he tries to convince himself that you’re the one he’s edging, truly, he’s edging both of you, and he’s too in love with you to not succumb to his own delicate, torturous charm. 🙃💞

Volume?

Quiet and breathy, or desperate and babbling, with no in between. Push him far enough, and he’ll murmur filth nonstop (most of it incoherent 😅) until he’s shaking and cumming, or bask in the soft glow of his occasional grunts and low hisses. Sex in the morning is usually near silent, but sex in the evening frequently brings out the singular, guttural groan that always accompanies his hardest orgasms.

Wild Card?

On rare occasions, Giyuu rims you. The stuttered, needy whine, and the feeling of your pussy tightening around his cock, whenever he brushes the pad of his thumb over your asshole do not go unnoticed by him, so he can only imagine how sensitive and gorgeous you would feel and sound if the tip of his tongue replaced his wandering hands — and he’s proven ~right when he rims you for the first time, and you practically wail at the hot wetness of his mouth. So good for me, letting me eat your pretty ass he rasps, spit bridging from his chin to your ass cheeks, your thighs quivering in his grip, drooling onto your pillow as you rock your hips backward toward his slick, skillful tongue What a fucking treat, getting to taste you here.

X-ray?

Giyuu’s cock is pretty. 7” erect, somewhat slim, with a fat and squishy tip that beads precum like it’s modeling for an advertisement. Its length always catches you off guard because it doesn’t look especially big (think cute twink vs beefy jock), but as he slowly pushes himself in a couple inches, pulls out till his tip catches at your entrance, and then slowly pushes himself in a couple inches farther than before, you can’t help but gasp. “Are you okay?” he asks softly, voice low and thick in his throat, eyes gleaming as he watches himself disappear into your luscious cunt, your body presented to him so stunning on your chest and knees. “Fuck,” is your graceful response, face buried in the mattress, back arching forward with every shallow thrust, “So deep.” He’d chuckle at your cliche whimper if he wasn’t so focused on not cumming, his hands cupping your hips in an attempt to handle you tenderly, the desperate clinging of your walls sucking away his self control as he slips farther, farther, deeper into your heat.

Yearning? sex drive

Horny, and by horny, I mean 24/7. Giyuu’s so used to it though (the perpetual state of being borderline turned on), that it doesn’t exactly feel like horny. He could fuck whenever (albeit, not necessarily wherever), but doesn’t need to (he’s a grown man y’know, he has ~some control 😉). This is a problem at first, because he refrains from initiating (afraid of scaring you away with his sex drive 😬)—to the point where you worry that you’re pressuring him into being physically intimate—but as soon as you communicate your concern, he’s quick (and embarrassed 😶) to assure you that I’m horny all the time. Do you want me to fuck you all the time? 😐 You might jokingly say Duh!, but his sentiment registers nonetheless. ☺️

Zzz?

🎵out like a light🎶 Morning sex? Giyuu’s taking a five minute power nap. 😴 Afternoon sex? Giyuu’s taking a thirty minute cat nap. 😴 Evening sex? Giyuu’s going to sleep. 😴 He does his best to check in with you vs straight up knocking out, but unless something urgent arises (i.e. intense feelings, physical pains, etc), he’s not someone to rely on after he cums. Of course, he can ~technically orgasm and then continue his day without conking out, but his resulting moodiness/distractedness takes a while to wear off whenever that happens.

#milestone event #20.0 #giyuu tomioka #tomioka giyuu #giyuu x reader #tomioka x reader #water hashira #headcanons #modern au #demon slayer smut #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer

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redr0sewrites · 3 months

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omg lowkey having a shitass day and i’m too tired to write for my comfort character and your my fav so 😭😭 literally just any fluffy vox headcanons. literally any! could be only one paragraph IDC i just think it’s so cute how you write him 🙏🙏

OFCCCC!!!!! heres some hcs ab vox comforting u after a long day ♥️

🥀 Cw: none, just fluff!

vox is no stranger to long, tiring days. he's had his fair share of shitty work days and when he comes home to see you exhausted, he immediately notices what's wrong.

vox is very goofy, he's good at reading people and can immediately know if someone's upset, but it's how he reacts that throws him off. like he'll notice something is wrong but won't know how to respond.

he's so used to manipulating people (such as valentino) or just shoving down his own emotions to put on a persona that he isn't great at verbally comforting someone, but his actions make up for it.

he pulls you onto his lap and will run his hand up and down your back to soothe you. while his claws are sharp, he would never hurt you with them, and its much more of a ticklish sensation then anything

speaking of, vox loves it when you laugh. if you're pissed at someone in particular, he will definitely make fun of them to help cheer you up. don't be surprised if they "disappear".... he is an overlord after all. he'd only do this if you want him too tho

vox claims he isn't insecure, but in reality he knows exactly how it feels to feel shitty about everything around you. he's surprisingly empathetic, if you're in a relationship with him he definitely cares about you a lot and i genuinely see him being upset in the situation that you're upset

if you cry, vox may be a little awkward but will go to get you a glass of water. he'll also dim the light of his screen to make sure he doesn't give you a headache and, if you're really upset or tired, he may even take the day off of work to comfort you

vox is the type to turn on soft music when you're sad and pull you into a slow dance right in the middle of your apartment. he doesn't care that you're bleary eyed and that you keep stepping on his feet, he doesn't care that its sappy or that it makes him seem vulnerable to care about you so much. as long as he gets to see you smile and giggle as you both clumsily swirl around eachother, he's content in staying in this moment forever.

if you're ever angry/frustrated and take it out on him, he may be a little pissy but he can take it, especially if you feel really bad afterwards. he doesn't take it to heart if you have a bad day and snap at him, hell, he does it all the time. he may be a little pouty if you don't apologize but don't worry he'll get over it in a few minutes once he sees how tired you are

while vox is a little chaotic, he's a genuinely good person to vent too because he will literally always agree with you no matter what. you murder someone? its their fault for walking into your knife. he absolutely supports your rights (and wrongs) no matter what

he's also a pretty good listener in general because he just. listens. he doesn't give unnecessary input, he doesn't try to play devils advocate, he just listens and shows interest in what you have to say and comforts you when necessary. he doesn't see why thats such a big deal, but he genuinely is a pretty decent listener.

vox is also a yapper though, if you need to get your mind off of your day just tell him and he'll start explaining the most random things to you. oh, you had something really embarrassing happen today and you want to forget about it? well now you're going to listen to 500 shark facts while also hearing the entire princess bride lore. sorry not sorry.

vox would find the shittiest movie with the worst cgi imaginable for you both to watch after a long day, he loves curling up with you on the couch and making fun of horribly animated graphics together

i also think he's (secretly) a fan of corny romance films and/or romcoms, and would want to recreate cute scenes with you (but would literally never tell you that) so you both may end up watching cutesy romance movies too

(this is the song i had in mind bc its soo vox, so u can listen to this for the "full experience")

"aw c'mon bub, don't tell me your too mopey to dance?" vox extended his hand to you, yet his smile was a little more forced than usual. his eyes were wide on his screen, almost concerned about the teats staining your cheeks.

"m' fine voxy.." you mutter, turning away. "it was just a bad day." vox pouts, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at him.

"trust me, this will make you feel better," he assured, pulling you to your feet. vox snapped his fingers and a bright, upbeat tune began to play in the background. pulling you in close, vox twirled you around before stepping back, switching to a simple slow dance.

you can't help a soft smile from creeping onto your face as vox continues to exaggeratedly spin and pull you around. hell, if anyone could see you both now, they'd be shocked.

"who knew that the overlord of technology was such a sap?" you giggle, pulling vox down by his tie to give him a kiss, and he chuckles in response. vox pouts, yet his eyes crinkle a bit as a genuine smile graces his features. "only for you!!".

i saw this and immediately opened my drafts 🫡 it is a CRIME that i haven't written any vox fluff when he's literally one of my fav pookies. i have literally only written smut for him 😭 anyways, i hope this made ur day at least a bit better!!!! sending lots of love ur way ♥️♥️♥️♥️

also i am SO honored to be called ur favorite bc hello??? ur my favorite too?????

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stargirlrchive · 1 year

Text

late night talking ✩ jake sully

masterlist ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

summary: soon to be dad!jake sully x female!reader, talks of pregnancy and discomfort but its so minimal, literally pure fluff babes i need to carry his babies fr

word count: 718 - short and sweet

syulang (n) - flower

comments: i hate this title w/ a passion, i feel like the vibe does not match? but whtvr, we are pushing through! <3 anyways i was in a silly goofy mood when i wrote this, like yall are gonna see what i mean lol but this can be like a prequel to this other jake fic but can also just be a standalone, kk bye! ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

Jake woke to the sound of your discomfort, feeling you move around in his arms as you tried to find a comfortable position. The task was proving to be impossible. You let out a long sigh, realizing there was no way you were going to be lulled to sleep again.

“What’s wrong, Syulang?”

Your eyes flew to your mates, unaware you had woken him up, “Nothing, he is just kicking so much tonight.”

Jake's hand instantly went out to sooth your belly, the bump growing beautifully everyday. He began to rub small shapes into your skin, hoping to calm his child down and ease your discomfort.

He whispered quietly to you, as if it was his biggest secret, “I wish we were Seahorses.”

Your mouth dropped in shock, that was not at all what you thought was going to leave your mates mouth. The confusion clear in your eyes, “What for?”

“Well I don’t know how true it is, but once on earth I read that male Seahorses carry the babies. I would do that for you.”

You wanted to laugh, it was fighting its way up your throat, but Jake was looking at you so seriously that you could not dare poke fun at him. His hands had made their way to your back, soothing the knots that had begun to form. “You would not last a day, JakeSully.”

You pressed a kiss to the widest part of his nose, “Besides, I should get used to it. I want more.”

“Is that so?”

He pressed a kiss to your temple, his hands trying to massage any area of exposed skin he could find, your body relaxing into his with each swipe of his hand. “Mhm, I want three more after. He needs siblings.”

Your hand rubbed gently along your own stomach, feeling a small thump from within. “Two girls and two boys.”

“Now wouldn't that be perfect.”

He was teasing you, trying not to smile as you shuffled closer to his body. Neither of you spoke for a while, your eyes were beginning to feel heavy, begging to sleep. “You keep referring to the baby as a boy?”

You nodded absentmindedly, practically melting under his fingers. “Because he is, I can feel it.”

Jake's nose scrunched up, “Has Eywa given you a sign?”

He was teasing you again, pure amusement dancing in his eyes as you looked up at him. His hand had fallen back to your stomach, fingers treading over you with a featherlight touch. “She has actually.” You huffed in his direction, noticing his eyes dilated at the new information. “Tell me Syulang.” He was pleading, softly tapping against your belly.

Jake had already adored you beyond belief, swore the sun rose when you smiled, but when he learned you were carrying his child, he practically worshiped the floor you walked on. “Please.”

You decided to end his suffering, laying your hand above his so they both rested on your stomach. “Well-this was only a few days ago, Ma’Jake, but I had gone to the Tree of Souls, I wanted to see my mother.”

Your shoulders caved in a little, pressing yourself impossibly closer to Jake, “There were so many ancestors trying to speak to me that day, but I could not make anything out. There were too many of them.”

Your face pinched together as you recalled the events, “Then, out of nowhere I heard something so clear, only one word. It was a name.”

You nervously played with the beads that fell on Jake’s braid, “What was it, Syulang?.”

“Neteyam.”

Jake blinked rapidly, ears twitching gently. It was perfect. “Do you like it?”

He nodded, unable to form words, suddenly struck with an overwhelming amount of adoration for you. He had to blink back the happy tears that threatened to leak from his eyes.

Silence fell between the both of you, Jake’s hands only stopped moving when he heard your breath even out. “Neteyam.”

He liked the way the name rolled off his tongue, he felt a soft thud from your stomach. Letting him know his son liked it too. His eyes instantly jumped to your face, wanting to make sure you had not woken up.

You remained peacefully sleeping, not even waking as Jake shifted to lay his arm under your head.

#jake sully x reader #jake sully #avatar jake sully x reader #avatar x reader #avatar the way of water #neteyam sully #loak sully #kiri sully #avatar #atwow #atwow x reader #neytiri #avatar 2009 #avatar 2022 #avatar 1 #avatar 2 #Jake Sully fluff #Jake Sully angst

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jinnie-ret · 5 months

Text

anti-hero

poly bang chan x hero!lee felix x villain!reader | superhero au

genre: superhero au, fluff, angst

content warnings: implied past bullying, implied anxiety, it's fluffy as well though I promise

word count: 3.6k

summary: their paths were destined to meet one way or another. it just so happens it all goes down in a way chan least expected.

header by @writingforstraykids thanks for making this my love!!

for @miuracha I hope you enjoy my lovely :)

this was part of the make miu smile event which you can find here

MAIN MASTERLIST

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The villain of the city, it was fun for you until it wasn't. You yearned to wreak havoc upon those who always judged you, made you feel like a monster, to those who managed to pierce your heart with their disgusting words that had been thrown at you with such ease. That, was your origin story. Maybe in another life you'd be living in a small cottage outside the busy day to day life of a place which was filled with cars, buildings, noise, and more cars. You wouldn't have to fret over public appearances, despite your masked form, the 'Shadow' that haunted Seoul. You wouldn't have to pretend anymore to fight against your lover, the hero who had made everyone feel safe again, feel safe just because you purely existed.

Lee Felix. A ball of sunshine. No, literally, he could blind any foes with his bright, burning orbs, torching their skin, destroying their vision, with indefinite permanence. The 'Blaze' that could never be outshined by anybody.

Oddly enough, such darkness and lightness coexisting meant that the two of you were bound to meet, bound to fight, bound to be fated together.

┊ ➶ ｡˚ 　　°

News reporters from several different channels were immediately sent out in their vans once they caught word of another fight between Shadow and Blaze happening in the center of the city. And soon enough they were met with quite a rewarding sight for their careers.

Shadow was sprinting as fast as possible, slipping into dark alleyways and cursing Blaze in her mind when he managed to invade her spots and shine light from his scarred hands in order to 'catch' her.

Not long ago, she had trapped some men in a bubble of darkness before she sweeped the streets and did the same to a woman around her age. Of course, citizens of Seoul were terrified, hoping not to face that same choking, suffering and horrifying feeling of being unable to move and left to hear all of their own thoughts. Her darkness was one that nobody would want to experience.

Enter Blaze, here to save the day. Per usual, he threw on his big smile and reassured scared crowds of people that they were safe when he was there, a slight sadness in his voice that went undetected.

There to capture the chase across the city, were helicopters filming from above, the whirring of the vehicles making Shadow smirk from beneath her black veil. What an amazing show they were creating. She skidded round the corner, her shoes leaving tracks of obsidian. Small pieces of tarmac flew up, scraping the backs of her legs. Blaze was only a few feet behind her. He was running at the speed of light, perks of the job. Keeping up the act, Blaze had freed the trembling victims of Shadow's wrath, and directed emergency services towards them. They'd be fine, in all due course.

Shadow panted as she came to a hault, finding herself in a dead end of the road, construction equipment and barriers up, stopping her in her path.

"End this now, Shadow," Blaze righteously spoke, projecting his voice so that everyone could hear him.

"End what? It's such a lovely day, is it not, my dear ray of sunshine?" Shadow cackled, dark storm clouds threatening to cloak the city in its grey, velvety blanket of gloom.

"You've caused enough chaos around here!" Blaze boomed in his deep voice, cutting through the clouds and letting spires from the sun creep through and soothe the dull of the city.

"Not quite," Shadow smirked, before moving her hands round in circular motions.

She summoned decaying vines, uprooting the concrete nature of man made civilisation, and introducing it to the lives that inhabited it. There were screams of terror as people got wrapped tightly, like they were being swallowed up by the grip of a cobra's coil. Fallen. Shaking.

"Not this again, she said she wouldn't do this anymore," Blaze sighed, before boosting his form up from the ground and propelling small flames towards the vines, breaking them apart and releasing more and more people from their encaged nightmares.

"Oldest trick in the book, sweetie," Shadow grinned widely, a black tongue sticking out past her lips as she teased the villain once more.

Oh how he wished she wouldn't tease him so much, but she knew he could handle it, he supposed, and he knew she'd be able to handle the actions he was about to take.

"Shadow!" Felix projected his voice once more, "you have terrorised this city one too many times!"

And with that, he blasted her a few streets away, making sure she had wrapped herself up in her elusive, shimmering cloak before he did so.

Screams of joys and cheers erupted around the city, people gathering around Blaze and praising him before he saluted them and vanished before their very eyes. He found where Shadow was immediately, hidden around an abandoned street where they knew nobody would see them. Or so it seemed.

"Y/Nnie, you ok love?" Felix approached the dark spot quickly, a grin appearing on his face when he saw the exhausted smile of his lover.

"That was quite the show," Y/N applauded her boyfriend before they embraced for a moment, her cloak slightly slipping off of her shoulders.

"You're telling me that? You trapped more people than normal in those dark bubbles, making me work harder you are," Felix chuckled and poked her cheek.

"Gotta switch it up?" Y/N shrugged, relishing the physical contact she had with Felix, appreciating his presence. It soothed something inside of her, made her calm.

"Who was it this time?" Felix prompted, wanting to know why she had trapped those certain people. Y/N always had a reason for these things, despite what the public view was. No one would believe that the villain thought carefully about who she targeted, why would they? They saw her as a reckless heathen who didn't belong anywhere.

"Well first, there was this group of perverted guys creeping on some teenage girls," Y/N began, her fingers stroking delicately over Felix's hands. He watched her explain with full attention.

"Mm, fair, ok, and what about that girl, she was like the same age as you, I swear," Felix wondered.

"Oh, her, ugh," Y/N rolled her eyes.

"You know her, love?" Felix tilted her chin up so she'd look up at him.

"Stacey Arnold, locked me in the cleaning cupboard at high school..." Y/N trailed off with a sigh. Black smoke lifted from her her hands covered in the same colour as she reflected on those torturous years.

"And...?" Felix rose an eyebrow, subtly switching the grips of their hands so that he could eradicate the air of her stygian darkness.

"Why does there have to be an and?" Y/N grumbled, still hesitant sometimes to reveal what had happened in her past. Hesitant to reveal what made her feel like a shameful being, a monster on the hill.

"There always is," Felix sang lowly, pressing his forehead against hers.

"She cut off a chunk of my hair," Y/N grumbled, kicking some stones.

"Oh no I love your hair," Felix pouted, pulling away to touch her hair and admire it.

"I'm starting to think my hair is so dry because of the heat from your hands when you're grabbing it," Y/N joked, teasing Felix about when he'd get all hot and bothered, like now, even when he was blushing.

"Wanna test that theory?" Felix leaned closer, brushing his lips against hers in the beginning of a much needed make out session.

Unbeknownst to them, was a man only slightly older than them, traipsing the streets of Seoul after the huge fight that had happened.

┊ ➶ ｡˚ 　　°

Enter, Chan. He had been walking with a blue notepad in hand, pen balancing on his ear which held the weight of his clear lens glasses. Fluffy brown hair sat atop his head, a frown formed on his face as he began to think would a story of his ever get published?

Well, now he had a story alright, the city's superhero Blaze and Villain, Shadow, caught in a steamy situation.

That is, if his boss would ever believe it. He hadn't progressed as far in his career as he would have liked to, always being undermined as an apprentice despite his allegiance to the Seoul Life company for six years. Six years and he was miserable. The newspaper wasn't very popular anyways, the only way they'd catch attention would be with a controversial headline, one that sparked distasteful rumours. Well, at least he had one that would be telling the truth this time. He just hoped and prayed it would get accepted. His other articles hadn't been before.

"No, Chan, no one cares about these supposed musical injustices of artists having no rights over their own music!" his boss slammed down the typed out copy of Chan's story down on his desk in the head office. Deep wrinkles set on the man's forehead.

"People care! I care!" Chan insisted, a look of desperation on his face.

"I'm scrapping it, you need some sort of better story," his boss leant back in his chair, rolling his eyes.

"No, sir! Please don't! I really think it could-"

"Watch this, and learn," his boss's voice pierced through his apprentice's words, as he he promptly fed the shredder beside him with Chan's hard work.

"I'm sorry," Chan looked down, feeling guilty that he once again had not created a successful report for the company. He didn't even know why they kept him around anymore, probably just to collect the coffees and do the printing.

But upon this day, he headed to the top floor of the building and knocked excitedly on his boss's door.

"Yes? What is it?!" his boss called out, seemingly in a good mood until he saw Chan and frowned.

"I got you your coffee. And I've got an amazing story to go with it," Chan was firm with his words, determination and adrenaline coursing through his veins.

"This better be good..."

"Another fight just happened with Blaze and Shadow-"

"I know this Chan, that's why I sent out the competent writers of this company to go and report," his boss sighed, sipping his coffee and hissing when it was still too hot on his tongue.

"Well I bet they didn't see the arch enemies of the city making out in a back alley," Chan grinned, raising his eyebrows up.

"Out of all the things I have heard..." his boss pinched the bridge of his nose.

"It's true! Look I managed to grab a photo!" Chan pulled out his phone and showed evidence, causing his boss's eyes to widen.

"Well I never... I tell you what boy, we'll publish this, if you can get this story done in 1 hour we'll send it out straight away! We'll publish it online before the other companies can even think about speculating this sort of story. I think you could have us earning some good money here!" his boss, for the first time ever, smiled in front of him. And that was all the motivation Chan needed, all the motivation he needed to prove himself.

It had been 2 days since the article had been published. 2 days, since chaos erupted. Online, hateful comments were sent Chan's way, claiming he was some sick fantasist who conjured up some fictional idea that two prominent figures, although one of them very hated, were engaging in such interactions.

He felt like his life was over. And the company did nothing to defend his name, despite the fact that his boss had been so enthusiastic about the idea and what profit and benefits would come from it. Sure, they caught a lot of attention, but not the right kind. So much so, that they publicly fired Chan, and stated that he was no longer working with them.

For the first time since the publication, Chan dared to venture into the city for a bite to eat, a treat to ease his stress. It seemed, it was only more stressful for him than he could have imagined. It wasn't so bad at first, but then people started recognising him and soon enough he was swarmed in a vicious crowd of people hurling insults at him.

"You sicko!"

"This man thought he could make us read a fanfiction?!"

"What a disgrace to our country!"

"Blaze would never do that!"

"Get him!"

He was spiraling, wishing that the ground would swallow him up, or that he could go back to before he made that article and live the dull normal life he lived before. Anything better than all of this attention on him.

"Stop... stop... I'm sorry... I wasn't lying... please..." Chan cried. He begged. He needed saving.

Good thing this city has a hero.

Before he knew it, he was encompassed by a warm soothing light, blaze, you could say. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut. Then peace and quiet. His heartbeat that was racing slowed down, and all he could hear was the deep rumbling of someone's voice trying to calm him, and the sizzling of food frying in a pan. It smelt delicious. Perhaps this would be the bite to eat he had attempted to get.

"It's ok, hey, you're safe, don't worry, no one will know where you are, I've got you," the deep voice soothed Chan out of his trance, warm hands cradling his face and he opened his eyes to see a handsome, freckled man in front of him.

Holy shit. It was Blaze. It was Blaze that saved him?!

"Take a seat, I know, it's shocking, I'll sign your autograph later, yeah?" Blaze giggled, sitting Chan down on a creaky sofa, and wrapping him in a black blanket.

"Stop being so cocky, Felix!" a female voice called out from behind him, echoing across the room in the direction of where that divine smell was coming from.

"Give me a moment," 'Blaze', or Felix, whispered to Chan, stroking his hair gently before comically marching away. "Hey! It's not my fault people get starstruck around me!"

"Yeah, yeah! Just give the poor man some food, he's shaken up," Shadow laughed.

Wow. Her laugh was much different to when he had heard her before. It was sweet even. Who would have thought...

"Right, umm, sorry, here, eat up!" Felix fumbled over his words before handing Chan a steaming plate of ramen.

"Ow!" Chan sucked air through his teeth, wincing at how hot it was.

"Shit! Sorry! I forget how you normies are with hot things," Felix rushed, "here, use the blanket to cover the sides, won't be so hot that way."

And that's what Chan did. He used the dark blanket that had been wrapped around him to cover the bowl from scalding his hands, and took a bite of the ramen, doing a happy little wiggle at the taste.

"Told you my ramen was the best," Shadow smirked, arms folded as she leant against the wall in front of Chan, boasting at her lover.

"Never said it was bad," Felix shook his head, before turning to grab a plate of his own.

This was oddly domestic, Chan thought. No one would ever really think about the hero and the villain of the city cooking together, or having this playful, teasing bickering. It was sweet, endearing, and he longed to have that.

"Hey is that my cloak?!" Shadow put her hands on her hips, glaring at Chan and therefore sending shivers down his spine.

"Felix... Ummm, B-blaze gave it to me... I think... I'm not sure... It was all a blur to be honest... I-"

"Y/N, leave him alone. The poor guy was just calming down and now you've gone and freaked him out," Felix tutted, making Y/N realise her mistake and she dropped her intimidating look.

"Sorry... Hmm, well, I guess I'll let you get away with it, you're pretty cute," Y/N shrugged it off, making Felix smirk at her knowingly.

"Uhh, thanks? Umm thank you for the food! It's really nice! And, umm, thank you for, umm, saving me," Chan rushed out his words, making sure his appreciation was hung in the air for the couple in front of him to see.

"That's ok, Mr Journalist," Felix grinned back, taking a bite of his own lunch.

"Ah so this is the one who tried to expose us, hmm?" Y/N's face lit up in recognition.

"Ah yeah, that's me. I'm sorry, I just wanted to get a good story out," Chan rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly before pushing his glasses up.

"It's fine, and to be fair, I can't even get mad at you, at least you were truthful," Y/N nodded in understanding.

She really had a much warmer heart than Chan could have ever anticipated. She was being so kind to him, so was Felix. He didn't expect it, and so, he put that down to the reason why tears welled up in his gorgeous brown eyes.

"Hey, it's ok, really, don't get upset," Felix put down his food to stroke Chan's back.

"It's just... things will never be normal again, everyone hates me," Chan sniffled.

At that moment, Felix glanced at Y/N to help out.

"Oh sure, I'll help, I can relate," Y/N nodded, hyping herself up to comfort Chan as she sat on his other side and took his hand in hers.

"I-i don't know what to do," Chan's voice cracked

"You can stay with us. No-one will be able to seek you out, ok? And soon you'll be able to return to normal everyday living, people will forget about it, I'm sure. You've got us now, ok?" Y/N spoke softly, hushing Chan's cries.

"Really? I-i can stay here?" he was astonished at the idea but he had no other choice. Plus, they had been so welcoming so far.

"You can. I mean it. As long as you don't spill food on my cape again," Y/N wrinkled her nose and rubbed away at the mark.

"Oh sorry! Umm, well, please, I'd like that," Chan nodded, and Felix wrapped an arm around him to offer further comfort.

"We've got you," Felix spread warmth around Chan's body, creating this fuzzy, happy feeling.

┊ ➶ ｡˚ 　　°

1 year later, and Chan was still living with the couple. But things had changed, quite massively. Not long after he had began living with them he noticed many different things, ever so observant as a past journalist. The lingering hands, the kisses on the head when they thought he had fallen asleep, the invitations to cuddle them in their bed.

When he confronted them about it, after gathering the courage to, both Felix and Y/N were very frank about their feelings, despite the latter being slightly embarrassed that she had been caught out in her tender actions. After all, Y/N had quite the reputation to be cold and unloving, but Chan knew that very day be met her, that she was the complete opposite. And to him, Felix was different from his heroic persona too. Sure, he had his arrogant moments, but it was only ever said in a joking tone, and that warmth that he had seen in news broadcast footage, translated emotionally too. They were his support. His lifeline. And he'd be ever so thankful that he found them. They even helped him find his new hobby, one he was excited to make money about.

"We're back!" Felix and Y/N called out as they entered the apartment, both of them panting. From staging another fight scene, not anything else, you pervs.

"In here!" Chan yelled out happily, sat in front of his computer.

"Hard at work I see," Y/N kissed him on the forehead, resting her own head on his shoulder to snoop at what he had been working on this time.

"Wow, you've written quite the story there, love," Felix stroked Chan's hair as he squinted his eyes to see what was on the screen.

"Yeah, well, someone paid me ₩200,000 for a commission! Insane I know!" Chan breathed out a laugh, happy that his new job could bring money into their home together.

"What's it about this time?" Felix queried with genuine curiosity.

"Well, ok, so they wanted me to write an imagine where Blaze and Shadow were best friends at school but got separated after moving different countries. So it's got this friends to lovers, reunited trope going on," Chan danced in his seat happily as he explained to his boyfriend and girlfriend about what he was writing.

"You and your fanfiction, ey?" Y/N laughed fondly, rubbing Chan's arms.

"Well, if you can't beat them join them," Chan laughed back, "plus it's fun writing these made up scenarios, especially when people want to insert themselves into the story. I know I've got the real thing. I'm so lucky," he rambled on.

"Yeah, and soppy," Y/N pulled his chair away from the computer.

"Hey! I like the compliments, tell me more!" Felix sat on Chan's lap, dragging Y/N on top of him awkwardly as they shared giggles, stories and kisses about how their days had gone.

It certainly wasn't how Chan expected his life to go. But he wouldn't exchange it for anything now that he got a taste of love, and pure compassion.

Felix was the light that shone down upon him and saved him that very day. And Y/N was the shadow that was always there for him, no matter what. It made sense didn't it? After all, such darkness and lightness coexisting meant that there had to be a third in between the two, otherwise one would feel lonely without the other.

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tagged: @skz-streamer @kiraisastay @hannahhbahng @kpopmenace143 @sakufilms @kai-lee08 @arloo00 @dunno-wut-to-do @splat00z @cheesemonky @his-angell @turtledove824 @2minstan @royal-shinigami @yangbbokari @skzoologist @crabrangoongirl25 @lixie-phoria

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