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#mannerisms has gotten hell around here!
a-cloak · 1 year
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ohdeerfully · 2 months
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alastor request HAI can it be based on the fact that alastor doesn't sleep, and it's his lover finding out that petting his ears during cuddling makes him fall asleep.
thank you for your service
yess i love sleepy alastor thank u so much anon :D!!
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Goodmorning, Love
Alastor x Reader (fluff) TW: none! join my discord! ═══ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ═══
You were well aware of the Radio Demon’s sleep habits. Or, well, lack of sleep habits. You often spent nights in his room, where he would sit with you in bed until you fell asleep and go do whatever the hell he gets up to late at night. You always woke up in an empty room, and often so in the middle of the night, struggling to rest again as a greedy tightness gripped your chest in worry and disappointment.
You understood, though, and tried your best not to let it get to you that you didn’t have his warm body next to you when you woke every morning. But you couldn’t help that twinge of sadness. You weren’t particularly needy or clingy, but would it kill him to stay in bed with you for a single night? And to have a slice of domestic bliss as you woke up?
Obviously. 
You roll your eyes as you lay, staring up at the ceiling. You had just gotten ready for bed, and now waited for said demon to join you for a few hours. Your fingers tapped, impatient, against your chest as you hummed absentmindedly.
“How lovely,” You heard him speak. Tickles of that radio static that always followed him clung to your exposed skin, which was signal enough that he had entered the room had he not announced himself. “What a siren you are, luring me here with that hum of yours.”
You smiled slightly at his comment, scooching over slightly to encourage him over. He obliged, joining you under the covers. He still wore his usual outfit, which made sense considering his tendency to go away all night. You purse your lips at the thought, slightly chewing on the skin.
“Why the face?” Of course he noticed your expression. He always noticed when any emotion tickled your face. You appreciated the genuine tone in his voice, the typical buzz of radio barely detectable in his words. He always got a little softer and kinder when he was alone with you like this.
You appreciated nights with him, being able to see a side of him that nobody else would live to spread word of. You enjoyed feeling a little special, especially to somebody like him.
“Do you think you could stay in,” You asked cautiously, fiddling with your hands as you inched closer to him, pressing your body against his. Even laying, he still seemed much taller than you. You gingerly guided his head down, against your chest as you spoke, hoping the multitasking would keep him from sitting up and rejecting your intimate gestures. “Just for a night. I miss you all night long.”
He allowed his head to lay against you. He did feel tense, of course, letting the back of his head be exposed in this manner as he lay vulnerable on you. It was a strange feeling, but not one he cared to consider for too long. 
“(Y/N),” He began with a sigh. “It’s impossible for me to get much done during the day, what with all the running around Charlie does. Somebody has to keep an eye on that young princess. I prefer to stay awake to get my own errands done at night.” 
I know that, you wanted to say and interrupt his explanatory ramble. You wanted to beg him to understand, just this once. You held in a sigh, watching as his head gently rose and fell with every breath you took. Maybe you should just take this submission from him as good enough.
You gingerly began tangling your fingers through his red hair, brushing out any kinks he may have gotten throughout the day. His tense body seemed to ease slightly, becoming more and more relaxed as you weaved your fingers through the locks.
“You have really soft hair, Al,” You commented, changing the subject. You figured there was no use convincing him. You let your fingers lightly trail upwards, up to his ears. You grazed them slightly with a finger. You touched again. When he made no motion of dislike, you fully began rubbing them. Petting him. You smiled to yourself at the idea of petting the feared Radio Demon. “And your ears are even softer.”
“I try to take care of myself,” He responded proudly. There was another hint of something in his voice, but you couldn’t quite place what it was. But it seemed heavy. “A well groomed man is a successful one.” You absentmindedly agreed as you stroked the velvety fur of his ears, switching back and forth between them and his hair. You had a preference for the ears, though.
You sighed and began humming quietly again. He rarely got so… comfortable, even around you. He always had some sort of guard up, always had his shoulders squared. He almost never became so… loose and vulnerable.
You noticed the clippings of radio frequency had stopped, which was a noise that was ever present in his wake. You had a suspicion why it disappeared, a small grin forming on your face.
Yes, the Radio Demon never slept. But that was a choice he made, not a curse that prevented him. Even demons get tired. You don’t know how Alastor makes it day by day without a wink of rest, but it was apparent that exhaustion had built up in him. He just needed to relax for a second.
You graced your fingers over his fringe, and craned your neck in a way to get a glance at his face. Yeah, you were right. 
He laid there, eyes shut, features relaxed with the lightest grin playing on his face. Even in sleep, you complained. It didn’t really matter. What mattered was the sound of his deep, slow breathing and occasional twitch of his velvety ears. You briefly wondered what the Radio Demon would dream about.
Would he be aggravated with you when he woke up, realizing you had practically cast a sleep spell on him? You didn’t, but the rate of which exhaustion took over may as well have been some sort of magic.
You shut your own heavy eyes, exhaling lightly as you continued to comfort yourself with the texture of his fur and hair. It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep.
You craned your arms and neck as consciousness came back to you, but an unfamiliar weight kept you from getting that good stretch in. Momentarily confused, you blinked open and looked down.
Red and black hair, more of a mess than usual, still took place on your torso. This was a first, and your chest felt like exploding with the glee of seeing Alastor still resting with you. He somehow looked even more relaxed than the night before, his cheek flush against your stomach, squishing his lips up slightly. A light grin was still there.
You gently brushed your fingers over his face, trailing a line around his features with an index finger. His eyes squeezed for a moment, and that static ambience of his slowly, quietly, returned. It was a noise that you had learned to find comfort in. He slowly opened his red eyes, a confused and sleepy daze clouding them. There was a wrinkle in his brow as he roughly propped himself up with an elbow, looking up at you with a furrowed expression.
“(Y/N)..?” He trailed, pausing to take in a shuddering morning yawn through a confused smirk. “Did I… Dear, what time is it?”
You looked at him tenderly. Oh, how cute he was, sleepy like this. Composed like an exhausted kid. Something even you have never seen before.
“Yeah,” You responded to his unspoken question. “It’s probably seven a.m. or so. I dunno.” There wasn’t a clock in your immediate line of sight.” “A.m. …” He said slowly. He sat up fully, looking down in disappointment at his wrinkled day wear. He quickly blinked the sleep from his eyes and managed to bring some composure to himself, but that lick of exhaustion was still prominent. Especially under his eyes.
“Yeah,” You said again, a light chuckle following. “Goodmorning, Al.”
He wasn’t obviously upset, it seemed. Though he probably was too tired to think about it too much yet. Maybe later.
“Well… Goodmorning, love.” He responded, still with a hint of confusion in his voice. “I suppose I accepted your plea from last night.” He brushed at his clothes while he spoke, trying to flatten out the creases that were brought on through a night of rest.
“Maybe more often?” You asked, twiddling your thumbs in anticipation. You already knew the answer, but it was okay. You knew how to keep him in now. You mischievously smirked as he closed his eyes and shook his head.
“Unlikely.”
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nanaslutt · 5 months
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i feel like choso probably wouldn’t have been with many people (maybe anyone) before with him being half-cursed spirit.
what would be be like getting head for the first time?
I’m so glad you asked :3
contains: fem reader, inexperienced!Choso, so much praise, dirty talk, teasing, insecurity, comfort, choso has a crush on reader, first orgasm, he cries from pleasure, soft as hell
MDNI
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:・°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:・°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:・°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:・°❀⋆.ೃ࿔
“You gotta sit still Choso, don’t you know how big you are?” You asked seductively, jerking his hard on while you sat on your knees on the floor in front of him, “You might seriously hurt someone with this thing.. you don’t want that right?” You questioned again. He shook his head, he didn’t wanna hurt anyone, especially not you.
“Good boy, just keep your ass on the bed and i’ll take care of everything.” You reassured, rubbing your hands along his thick thighs soothingly.
Choso had no idea how things escalated this quickly, the two of you had gotten dragged into a conversation about your sexual experiences with Gojo, and suddenly here you were, in his room between his legs after he confessed that he had never been touched before.
This situation was something he didn’t even dare dream of, he never thought he was allowed to think of you this way. Choso had talked to Yuuji about how he felt about you, but nothing of this manner, just how cute he thought you looked in your uniform, how nervous you made him whenever you looked his way, the ball of warmth in his stomach whenever you touched him.
He always stopped his thoughts whenever the warm feeling started to drop lower in his pelvis when he saw you stretch your arms above your head before sparing, your stomach rising to reveal your soft looking tummy. Looking away when it had rained during a mission together, the liquid soaking through your shirt, making it see through, where he sometimes got a glimpse of the black bra you wore underneath your clothes.
So when you dragged him aside after the conversation and asked if he wanted you to show him what a blow job felt like, who was he to deny his long-term crush?
Your fingers rubbed along his dripping slit, collecting his pre before you stroked the wetness down the length of his cock, making his breath hitch. You had only been touching him for a couple minutes maybe, and he already felt like something was going to come out.
"I- I think I'm ready." He said, his knee bouncing under the weight of your hand, trying to ease his nerves. "Tap my head twice if its too much for you Choso," you smiled sweetly up at him, making him suck in a breath at how beautiful you looked between his thighs combined with the use of his name.
He watched with bated breath as you opened your mouth, your pretty pink tongue darting out and licking the slit of his cock, making his body jerk forward at the contact, "You okay?" you asked in between kitten licks on his head. He nodded, not being able to take his dark eyes off the scene in front of him, "Just feels s-sensitive." He explained.
You giggled before taking his mushroom tip into your mouth and suckling gently, using your tongue to expertly draw circles around it. Choso's breath hitched above you, his jaw dropping open at the feeling of your warm mouth enveloping his cock. This sensation was unlike anything he'd ever felt before. He started getting dizzy when you started bobbing your head slowly, taking more and more of his length into your mouth as you did so.
Was it supposed to feel this intense? Did it always feel like this? He felt like he was losing his mind, like he had taken some drug that made his brain feel like mush, and his body feel like lava.
"I-its so warm, shit.." He cursed, his cock twitching strongly against your tongue as you took him even deeper. He swore he saw stars when he felt you hum around his length, sending delicious vibrations through his balls.
He was unsure of what to do with his hands, they were just digging into the sheets behind him, but every neuron in his brain was telling him to pet your hair. He wanted to touch you so bad, but he didn't know if he was allowed to.
You popped your lips off his cock, replacing it with your hand as you stroked him quicker, nuzzling your head against his thigh and peppering kisses into the skin there. "I, I want to touch you, can I?" He asked shyly, maintaining eye contact with you through his hooded eyes.
"Of course, you can do anything you want Choso." You said smiling, "As long as your hips stay on the bed." You added, going back to taking his cock into your mouth. His hand immediately came to place itself on your head, not putting any pressure on you, instead just resting it there.
His groans increased in volume when you took his cock to the hilt, his fat tip hit the back of your throat, making you gag around him, the feeling of your throat constricting around his dick made his eyes roll back in his head. "S-so good- feels so good," He moaned out, his jaw had gone slack and his eyes were trying their best to stay open and watch the show you were putting on for him.
Choso had to fight his hips to not buck up into your mouth when your throat repeatedly took him in, over and over again he felt his tip hit the back of your throat, and it was almost too much to take. He started feeling that semi familiar warmth coil in his stomach, the feeling being more intense this time around as he panted and heaved loudly, squirming against the sheets.
"A-ah wait s-stop please, p-please," He begged, sighing in relief when you popped your lips off his cock. Choso’s his hand came down to squeeze the base of his cock harshly, to prevent himself from cuming so fast and embarrassing himself in front of you. "Why'd you stop me? Are you okay?" You ask concerned, the hoarseness of your voice being very prevalent from the abuse your throat had taken.
"I uh.. I think I was about to cum." He admitted, giving the base of his cock one last squeeze before he let go of it, letting it twitch in the air between the two of you. “Ohh, Choso,” you laughed lightly, making his face heat up, “I want you to cum, that’s why i’m doing this.” Your beautiful voice rang in his ears.
Although you had just given him permission, he still shook his head, “No?” you asked, tilting your head to the side, confused. “I don’t..” He paused, gathering all the courage in his body before he spoke again, “I don’t wanna cum too quick.” He said, “I’m sure other people you’ve been with have.. lasted l-longer.” he stuttered out.
His words made you bite your bottom lip, suppressing a smile at how cute he could be. You had no idea he was insecure about this kind of thing. “Choso, this is your first time ever being touched, right?” You ask, rubbing comforting patterns into his thigh with one hand while you wrapped your other around his dick again, starting up a slow pace.
He nodded, body jerking at the sudden pleasure starting up again. “Exactly, so your not as used to this kind of this like someone else might be.” You explained, “But this isn’t about anyone else, this is about you and me.” Your words were doing wonders on his self esteem. “I have no expectations from you, i’m not comparing you to a single other soul.” You reassured, stroking him faster now, his eyes fluttered as he soaked in your words.
“O-okay.” He eventually said, making you smile as you repeated the word back to him, before licking his tip once more, “If you feel like you’re gonna cum, just let it out, I got you.” you comforted, taking him back into your throat again.
He hoped his face wasn’t as red as it felt, (it was) as he slapped a big hand over his mouth to conceal his groans and heavy breathing when your bobbing picked up.
There were strings of spit connecting from the base of his cock to your lips, the sight was so erotic. He almost passed out when he felt your fingers expertly massage his wet balls in your soft hands, squeezing them just right, and steadily working him back up to his orgasm.
“Shit- I- Im close again.” He said, his hand dropping from his mouth as he placed it back on your head and gripped it for stability. You moaned out an ‘mhm mhm’ around him in acknowledgment, trying to let him know it was alright. “It f-feels weird.. I think it’s coming-“ He whined, his thighs shaking and abs clenching at his impending high.
You popped off his dick, sticking out your tongue and stroking him quickly, still massaging his heavy balls, “Yesyesyes good boy Choso, let it out, cum for me.” You whined, and that was all the encouragement he needed.
He didn’t think he’d ever felt anything so intense, he fought to keep his eyes open as he released his load all over your face and tongue, feeling your hot breath pant against his length. Tears he didn’t know had been forming dripped down his face as his body curled in on itself, not being able to take such intense pleasure.
“F-fuck ngggh- ffffuck!!” Curses of your name fell from the dark haired man’s lips as his orgasm seemingly went on forever. His body shook and shook with pleasure even after the ropes of cum stopped, you swallowed up everything he gave you, wiping up the cum that landed on your cheeks you popped your finger into your mouth, sucking it off.
You leaned your head forward to leave a soft kiss on his sensitive cockhead, making him whine, before you stood to your feet in front of him.
“Good fucking boy Choso, how did that feel?” You asked, taking his face in your hands and wiping away his tears, his eyes glassed over, his soul still finding his way back into his body as he took in your words.
He just nodded at you, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water as he swallowed air into his lungs greedily, “Thank you, t-thank you.” he repeated, wrapping his strong arms around your body. You took the opportunity to sit on his thighs, careful to avoid sitting on his still sensitive but softening cock.
You held his heavy head against your chest, “Thank you~” you giggled, pulling his head away from you and making him look into your eyes, “Felt so good.” he said, shaking his head.
You held his soft cheeks in your hands, before you brought your lips to his head and left a soft kiss against his forehead. “And this is just the beginning.” You replied.
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fyorina · 3 days
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ᡣ𐭩 HE'S THE SERPENTINE, HE'S MY COLLAR!
FEATURING: dazai osamu
SUMMARY: you're finally back in yokohama after spending four years abroad dealing with mori's foreign business. the last person you want is to see dazai osamu, the wounds of his abrupt betrayal still too fresh for comfort. unfortunately, he decides to take matters into his own hands by showing up at your office in the middle of the night.
(wordcount: 7.1k; ņsfw; fem!reader; port mafia executive!reader, f!receiving oral, gunplay, knife play (ish), spitting, pussy drunk!dazai (as always), light choking, overstim, office sex, semi-public/public sex, unprotected sex, switch!dazai, switch!reader, undertones of angst (happy ending). lmk if anything is missing!)
AUTHOR'S NOTES: guys. GUYS. i had so much fun writing this, this is finally usurping in paper rings and picture frames as my fav fic that i've written. HAHAHH. i hope you guys like it too!!
You hear the door to your office swing open, and you press your lips together tightly, irritation swimming through your head as your grip tightens on the pen you’re using to fill out your paperwork. It’s already late—you’re tired and your head hurts, but you can’t leave the building until Akutagawa comes to hand you the report for his failed mission so you can pass it up to the boss. And you know that whichever subordinate this is, it’s definitely not Akutagawa because the boy would rather claw his own throat out than walk into your office without knocking. 
Which means it’s some upstart new recruit who has no manners and is likely going to make your night worse. You think being away for so long did some real damage to your reputation—four years ago, the lower ranked mafiosos avoided your floor like the plague, they didn’t barge in like they owned the place, but then again, four years ago, you also had a certain dark-haired executive (ex-executive now, you remind yourself bitterly) lurking around your floor constantly trying to get your attention, and if people weren’t nervous enough about you, they were definitely terrified of him.
“Five seconds to explain why you came into my office without knocking or I’m putting a bullet through your fucking skull,” you say, voice acerbic, not even bothering to look up, the fingers of your free hand closing around the gun you have holstered at your side. 
“There’s a few too many cameras in the hall for my liking to stand out there and wait for you to open the door.”
The fact that he manages to dodge the bullet shot in his direction is testament to his skill, but you’ve known Dazai Osamu long enough to know that when he dodges to the side, nine times out of ten, he dodges left, so you drop your pen as soon as you pull the trigger and swipe the knife laying haphazardly on your desk, launching it in his direction. You watch as his eyes widen just a bit when it impales the wall right next to his ear, just barely nicking his skin—both a warning and a threat.
“My, my, bella, you’ve gotten faster the past few years,” Dazai grins, unperturbed, smile as reckless and lazy as the day he left four years ago as he plucks the knife from the wall. “I’ve missed you too.”
“What the hell are you doing here, Dazai?” you ask, voice cold and sharp as your finger rests against the trigger of your gun. “How did you get up here?”
“Security’s gotten lax since I’ve been gone, I guess,” Dazai shrugs, but his eyes dance with mirth as he makes his way over to your desk. “You should probably do something about that.”
“Dazai,” you say, keeping your voice low and trying to reign in your temper. There are no cameras in your office, but the hall leading here is littered with them, hidden ones that were recently installed that he wouldn’t know about, if any one of them caught his face and it’s reported to Mori… “You think I won’t drag your ass to Mori myself? What the fuck are you doing?”
You’d have to, or it would be your head on the line for betraying the Port Mafia—you know better than anyone the treatment that traitors get, considering you were the one that dealt with them up until you were sent abroad four years ago to handle Mori’s foreign politics. 
“I don’t know, will you?” Dazai counters, head tilted to the side as he takes a seat on top of your desk next to you, a smile on his face that makes you think he knows something that you don’t. It makes you a bit sick to your stomach—you’ve only been back in Yokohama for a few days and you feel as if you have yet to even adjust to Dazai’s defection from the Port Mafia because you were away for so long. Him showing up like this opens up wounds that are too fresh for comfort—it reminds you of the days that feel like yesterday when he would show up at your office to distract you from your work, pouting and throwing himself on your couch when you blow him off to finish up your reports. 
“Maybe,” you answer, finger twitching on the trigger as you keep your gun pointed in his direction. 
Dazai is completely unbothered, leaning down until his nose is nearly brushing yours, lips tugged up in an unbearable smirk. 
“Then do it,” he challenges, and you glare at him, jaw tight and eyes hard. He reaches out, fingertips brushing your skin, and you feel like you’re on fire beneath his touch. You hate that your body still betrays you to him. “Don’t look at me like that, bella. I won’t even resist, I promise, as long as you promise to be the one to put a bullet through my skull, so your face can be the last thing I see. Ah, that would be a lovely death, wouldn’t it?” 
“You’re a fucking freak, Dazai,” you spit out, but make no move to get up or grab your phone. “What is wrong with you?”
Dazai doesn’t respond, only winking at you. Instead, his gaze shifts to the side and his hand drops from your face to his lap again. You hate even more that you miss his touch immediately. 
“You still have my couch,” Dazai notes to himself quietly, an odd tone to his voice as he stares at the dark couch in the far corner of your office, where he’d bundle himself up under blankets to avoid Chuuya, because Chuuya used to avoid your office like the plague when the three of you were younger.
“It’s my couch,” you say tightly, even though you know no one has touched it since Dazai left, and the ugly orange blanket he liked so much is still draped over the back of it, and it probably still smells like him. Your throat feels swollen, and you steel away your emotions and continue with, “I haven’t been back here since you left, anyway. What do you want, Dazai?”
“I heard you were finally back in Yokohama,” he says. “I wanted to see you.”
“Fuck off,” you say roughly. “So you decide to break into the main base of the Port Mafia and come all the way up to my office? You know where my apartment is, you could’ve shown up there. What do you really want?” 
“It’s the truth,” Dazai says easily, and his dark eyes meet yours—both of them, you note, and wonder when he decided to shed the bandages that covered his right eye. “I was at your apartment for a bit, I got impatient and came here instead.”
He’s telling the truth.
Oh, you realize—the clogged feeling in your throat is coming back, you force it away again and lean back in your chair, looking away from him to turn your gaze to the window. It’s well past midnight already, the moon is high in the sky and the stars are glittering above. In the distance, you can see the Ferris wheel of Cosmo World glowing a bright purple color and a string of flashing red and blue lights as the police chase after someone.
“Why?” you ask finally, breaking the heavy silence that had settled over the two of you. 
“I told you,” Dazai says quietly, and your eyes turn back to him. He looks… happier, you can’t help but note. A sick part of you feels jealous—you’re not sure if you’re jealous because he’s free and you’re still stuck in this place, or if you’re jealous because he’s happier and he’s happier in a life without you. You think it might be the latter. “I miss you.”
“Don’t give me bullshit, Dazai,” you snap, still trying to push away all of the feelings you’ve repressed for so long. “Get out of here before you find yourself killed. I’m not going to turn you in, but I’m not saving you if you get caught.”
“It’s not bullshit,” Dazai tells you, voice sharp in a way that it only ever is when he’s starting to get annoyed. “I-”
A knock at your door cuts Dazai off mid-sentence. Both of you freeze, Dazai looks at you as if waiting to see what you’re going to do, and you can so easily finish this now, let whoever is at your door in and drag Dazai back down to the torture room where he belongs, but instead you find yourself reaching for him. Your hand intertwines with his hair roughly, and you revel a bit in the hiss that escapes his lips as you yank him off the desk and roll your chair backward, kicking the back of his knee so that he crumples to the ground and you can push him beneath your desk. 
You lower your gun to your lap so you can keep it pointed at him and then glance down at him—he looks caught off-guard and disgruntled at being manhandled, but you think it's a bit funny how cramped he looks under there. 
“Not a single word,” you warn before fixing your chair and raising your voice. “Come in.”
Akutagawa wastes no time stepping into your office, nodding his head in respect as he makes his way over to the chair on the opposite side of your desk, a bundle of papers in hand. He doesn’t hand you the pile right away and he looks uncharacteristically nervous, and you raise your eyebrows, wondering what the issue is. 
“I am… unsure how to fill out some of the report,” Akutagawa says, unable to meet your eyes as he stares at the windows behind you. “The operation was… not a failure but not a success. The whole mission was in disarray, I do not know who was doing what at certain points.”
You stare at Akutagawa. “What do you want me to say to that?” you ask him, leaning back in your chair. “It’s your job to know that as the field officer for the mission. If you can’t handle that, Hirotsu will take back the position on the next major operation.”
Akutagawa bristles. “I can handle it,” he says, voice clipped. “This mission was just more chaotic than-”
“Than usual?” you ask idly, watching as he stiffens as your interruption. “This was child’s play, it’s unlike you to make excuses, Akutagawa.’
“I’m not making excuses,” he says immediately, “but…”
Akutagawa continues talking, but your attention is ripped away when you feel Dazai shift beneath the desk. You press your lips together tightly, stiffening as his hands rise to your thighs, spreading them a bit so he can settle between them. You glance down, he’s already peeking up at you, dark eyes glittering in a way that has you on edge. 
Don’t you dare, you warn silently, but Dazai only takes it as further encouragement, pressing his lips to your clothed inner thigh, you can feel the warmth and wetness through your slacks. It takes all of your self-control to not inhale sharply when he starts trailing open-mouthed kisses up your thigh until his mouth is hovering right above your cunt. 
You press the muzzle of your gun against his temple. 
He smiles. 
Your jaw clenches as he licks a long stripe between your legs through your slacks, making sure to press his tongue down hard over where your clit is hidden through your clothes. Akutagawa is still talking, oblivious to what’s happening beneath your desk as he airs his complaints about the mission. You could stop Dazai, place your foot on his shoulder and push him off of you, but you don’t, notably—you don’t want to acknowledge that though. You only vaguely hear Akutagawa’s issues, something about interference from a third party—the SDUP? What the hell were they doing there?— and Kajii blowing up an escape route. 
“Give me the report,” you say, cutting him off mid-sentence, and holding out your hand. You’re grateful that your voice comes out steadier than you feel with Dazai trying to tongue fuck your through your pants. 
As you lean forward to rip the papers from Akutagawa, you tense, feeling something sharp press against your inner thigh. Sitting back in your seat and glancing down, your eyes cut down to Dazai, who still has the knife you’d thrown at him and is using it to cut open your very expensive slacks.
You have half a mind to drive your foot into his face, but you refrain. If only barely.
It’s a miracle that you can keep your breath steady, because as Dazai cuts your pants, he kisses every inch of open skin that’s revealed to him. His lips are warm, wet, familiar—so familiar that your legs are instinctively spreading for him, giving him more room to work.
Your eyes scan the report but the words are just jumbled letters and not making any sense. Every time you try to understand, you feel Dazai’s teeth graze your thigh as he marks up your skin. You tense when you feel him bring the knife much closer to your cunt, to finish cutting off the material—you press the muzzle of your gun harder into the side of his head, warning him to be careful. You glance down only to see a hazy smile on his lips as he winks up at you, as if he’s drunk just off of the idea of what’s about to happen.
He works efficiently as always, freeing your lower body of your slacks and panties as quickly as possible, and he wastes no time burying his face between your legs. Your lashes flutter and the grip you have on your pen tightens dangerously, you think it might snap. Dazai’s tongue slides between your folds, lapping up the slick that had begun to pool—you know that if Akutagawa wasn’t sitting a few feet away, Dazai would be making a snide comment about how he knew you wanted him.
Dazai’s tongue flicks over your clit—you can feel him staring up at you, watching for every little reaction, the way your lip tightens as you bite back moans, the way your eyelids unconsciously start to slide shut, the way your breath is just a bit heavier than it usually is. 
This is so dangerous, you think to yourself desperately. If Akutagawa of all people figures out that Dazai is here-
You nearly choke when Dazai shifts a bit underneath the desk to kneel at a better angle, grateful that Akutagawa seems to be too busy wallowing in his own mistakes to notice your struggle. Your gaze  snaps down again, his eyes have fluttered shut as he buries his face deep into your cunt, nose pressed to your clit as he pushes his tongue into your hole and you can feel the way he lets out a silent, but shaky breath, barely holding back a moan.
You notice his free hand slide from where it was propped on your thigh down to his beige pants, fingers fumbling with the button as he desperately tries to slip his hand beneath his waistband to touch himself. You kick his wrist hard, using your foot to pin it against the side of your desk, watching him wince and withdraw his hand, looking up at you with those big brown eyes you can never say no to. 
God, he’s pathetic, his lashes are wet and his cheeks are flushed, eyes glossed over with pleasure as he looks up at you and you know you’ll let go of his wrist if he looks at you like that any longer, so you turn your gaze back up to Akutagawa, who’s staring at his lap and waiting for you to finish the report.
“Get out,” you tell him, voice sharper than you intended. Akutagawa’s eyes snap up to you, brows furrowed in confusion. “Go, I’ll handle this.”
“But-”
“Your job is to take orders, not question them,” you bite out, watching frustration flash across the boy’s face as he rises to his feet. You’re not usually this harsh with the kid, but you’re not sure how much longer you’re going to last and Akutagawa cannot be in here when you cum. You can feel the heat pooling in your stomach and that familiar hazy feeling clouding your mind. “Out, Akutagawa.”
Akutagawa inhales sharply but nods, turning stiffly on his heel to leave your office. As soon as the door to your office clicks shut, Dazai is pushing the chair backwards until the back of it hits the windows behind you, shifting into a more comfortable position as he resumes fucking you with his tongue in earnest. 
He moans into you, wanton and shameless, any restraint he had because of Akutagawa’s presence is long gone. While he was careful to not make noise before, now the sloppy sound of his tongue dragging in and out of your cunt drowns out any other noise in your office, he sucks and slurps, he’s so disgusting, like he can’t get enough of the taste of you, a man who’s been starved for years.
The knife clatters to the ground as he reaches up with both hands to grab your thighs, sliding them over his shoulders so he can push his tongue even deeper inside of you. Only sheer pride drives you to push away the creeping fog as Dazai’s tongue slides back up between your folds to draw figure eights around your clit.
“I should pull the fucking trigger, pulling this shit when he was in here,” you spit out, head falling back as a breathy noise escapes your parted lips when Dazai sucks gently at your clit. He moans again, as if the idea itself turns him on—it probably does, he’s always talked about wanting to die between your thighs. “You’re a fucking freak, Dazai.” 
He lets out a puff of air, you can’t tell if it's a laugh or another moan, maybe a mixture of both, but he’s too focused on drowning in your cunt to respond. Four years without him and you’ve forgotten just how good Dazai is with his tongue, working your body as easily as he did when the two of you were eighteen and seeking each other out before meetings and between missions for a quick fuck. You hate it—you hate that he’s treating you as if nothing has changed and you hate even more that your body is this responsive to him. 
Betrayal, you think, your own body betrays you for him. Again.
“Fuck,” you gasp the word out when Dazai rolls your clit between his teeth gently, sending a jolt through your body that throws you off just enough for that fog you’ve been fighting off to finally win. You choke over a moan, head pressed back against your desk chair, forearm coming up to press against your forehead as your eyes slide shut. Your free hand finally finds its place in his hair, tightening around his dark locks, he lets out a whimper against you, tongue flicking over your clit. “Like that. Just like that.”
You can hardly keep your head on straight as he traces letters around the sensitive bud, you try to figure out what he’s spelling but you’re too far gone. Your head is light and your chest is heaving. You’re barely able to bite back moans as your thighs tighten around his head, hips rocking against his face. You don’t even know if he can breathe, you don’t think you care, so close to the edge that your entire body is tingling and trembling; you don’t think he cares either from the way he’s moaning into you.
It takes one last suck, one last swirl around your clit, and you’re crying out his name, spots dotting your vision as your grip on his hair tightens, pushing his face impossibly deeper into you as you grind your hips against his face. God, it feels never-ending, a noise too close to a sob nearly escapes your lips as Dazai ardently laps up all of your cum, not letting a single drop go to waste. You can’t remember the last time you’ve cum this hard—with him, probably, you realize bitterly. None of the one-night stands you’ve had over the past few years have ever compared to him.
You’re still reeling even as you force yourself to straighten in your seat, not willing to let him know just how badly you’re thrown off by how intense your orgasm was. Your head is still spinning, vision still blurring, but you lift your leg and press your foot to Dazai’s shoulder, kicking him back and forcing him out from his position between your thighs. 
He grunts, looking thoroughly disgruntled as he falls back on his ass, pouting up at you as he tries to catch his breath. He looks debauched, lips swollen and wet, your cum smeared on the lower half of his face. His cock is straining against his beige pants and his eyes are still glazed over; he’s looking up at you with an expression that’s nothing short of reverent. 
God, he’s gorgeous. 
You hate him. 
You’ve missed him. 
You shift in your seat and Dazai is lifting himself to his knees, immediately leaning closer, a hazy smile on his lips as he angles his face up and pointedly parts his lips, sticking his tongue out. You know what he wants and the heat that had been slowly dissipating returns with a vengeance, breath catching as you look down at him.
“You’re gross,” you tell him, watching the corner of his lips quirk up even as he keeps his tongue out and waiting.
You don’t deny him. You never can. 
You shift forward, rising to your feet and reaching out to grab his chin, angling your face down. Your grip is too tight, it’ll leave bruises behind and you think that’s the least he deserves so you only tighten it a bit more as you lean over him. You don’t give him what he wants, not right away, letting the saliva gather on your tongue as you observe him, the way his pupils are blown wide and his chest is hardly rising and falling, as if he can’t even let himself breathe in anticipation.
Disgusting, you think again, but it’s fond this time, much to your displeasure.
You decide to put him out of his misery, letting the spit dribble from your mouth down to his. His eyes roll back as soon as it hits his tongue, and your hand slides from his chin to curl around his neck—not tight, just firm enough to feel the way his throat bobs as he swallows.
He lets out a shaky breath, eyes fluttering back open as he looks up at you, entirely blissed out. Your hand slides down more, curling around the ugly bolo tie he’s wearing in place of the black one you’re used to. You tug it hard, beckoning him to his feet; he acquiesces, albeit on shaky legs. 
Immediately, his hands find your hips as he pushes you against your desk, spinning you around to face it before his hand presses between your shoulder blades, pushing you down to bend you over it. Your eyes widen at the sudden change in demeanor, something you’ll never be able to get used to no matter how many times you fuck him; it always caught you off guard back then, it still catches you off guard now. He pulls off the remnants of your destroyed slacks and immediately is grinding his bulge against your ass, a low moan spilling from his lips. 
“How many people have you been with?” he suddenly asks, and you can hear him fumbling to unbutton his own pants. There’s an edge to his voice that you don’t like—something caught between jealousy and possessiveness, and you nearly want to scoff at it.
“What the fuck, Dazai?” you spit out, appalled and not expecting the question. “None of your damn business.” 
You turn your head to the side to rest your cheek on the desk, looking back at him from the corner of your eye. His eyes are still a bit hazy but there’s a tight expression on his face, reminiscent of the one that would be directed toward you whenever he stumbled in on you entertaining anyone other than him years ago. 
“Humor me,” he says, voice cold and eerily familiar. If you weren’t looking at him and if you couldn’t see the tan coat and bolo tie, you’d think you were talking to Dazai Osamu, Port Mafia Executive, and not Dazai Osamu, Detective. 
“A lot,” you finally tell him, feeling the way he stiffens behind you. “I don’t keep count. You?” 
You think he has some nerve asking when he’s probably slept around t-
“None.”
“Bullshit,” you snarl immediately. “How many? Don’t fucking lie to me, Dazai.”
“None,” he says again, gaze lifting from your back to meet yours, his eyes are dark—too dark, too still. Maybe he hasn’t changed as much as you assumed, because the way your chest swells with a confusing mixture of fear and arousal is far too familiar. “You’re the only one allowed to touch me.”
His gaze drags back down, with his pants unbuttoned, he lifts his free hand to caress the swell of your ass, a contemplative expression on his face as he stares down at you, his other hand still pinning you down to your desk. If your heart wasn’t thudding in your ears from sheer anticipation, you’d be irate over the fact that you were letting Dazai Osamu fuck you over your own desk in your own office, but you can’t bring yourself to care now.
“They never made you feel like this.” It’s a statement, not a question, and you want to scoff at his arrogance, but you can’t because he’s right. “They don’t know your body like I do.”
This time you do scoff. “You don’t know shit, Dazai. It’s been four years.”
Dazai’s eyes flicker back up to you, the way his lips curve up into a smile is dangerous.
“No?” he questions. 
A challenge. You never back down from one, not from him. 
“No.”
His smile sharpens.
“I know that after you cum for the first time,” he murmurs, rolling his hips forward. You bite back a moan when you feel the tip of his cock slip between your folds. “The second time comes right after.”
True to his words, your jaw falls slack and your entire body seizes as Dazai thrusts into you, splitting you right open on his cock. The moan he lets out is pornographic, and you wish you could see the way his head falls back and his eyes roll into his skull, but your own vision is white and you’re choking over a sob as you feel the familiar stretch of his cock against your walls.
“There you are.” Dazai has the nerve to let out a breathless laugh and another groan as he stills with his hips flush to your ass, feeling your walls spasm around him as you cum just from the feeling of him pushing inside of you. The hand he has placed between your shoulder blades slides up to curl around your throat. With a firm grip, he pulls you up so only your thighs are pressed against the edge of your desk, back flush to his chest as you gasp, reeling from the suddenness of your second orgasm. You can feel him smile as he nudges his nose against the side of your head, lips pressed to your ear. “The third time takes a bit after the second, but I’ll fuck you through it. Maybe a fourth too.”
“Dazai,” you gasp, eyes blown wide as your head falls back against his shoulder. You don’t know what you’re trying to say, maybe hold on, or wait, because you know you’ll embarrass yourself if he doesn’t give you a second to recover.
He hums in response, and the slow rolls of his hips, the drag of his cock against your walls, it has your head in the clouds, body trembling. Your lips part to speak but no words leave them, and right when you think you can finally force the words out, Dazai draws his hips back and snaps them back against yours hard. Your lips part in a silent moan, only the hand around your throat and the one pressed to your lower belly holds you up as Dazai fucks you at a brutal pace. 
His face drops to the crook of your neck, he moans into your skin, teeth scraping hard as he kisses recklessly up and down every available inch. He’s going to leave marks, you realize, and that’s dangerous now that you’re back in Yokohama because you don’t need any of the other executives to get suspicious, but even if you wanted to tell him not to, you don’t think you’d be able to. Whatever little coherency you had left in your thought process does not translate when you try to speak, the only things leaving your lips being shaky moans and gasps of Dazai’s name.
“Made for me,” Dazai groans. His grip on your throat tightens just enough to make the air you breathe in shallow, your head feels light and you’re not sure if it’s because of his grip or if it’s the feeling of his cock bullying so deep into you that you can feel his tip pressing up against your cervix. “Waited so many years for this, feels even better than I remember, pussy’s made for me, isn’t it?”
Dazai babbles into your ear as he fucks you, tongue just as filthy and unbridled as the day he left. Shameless. He’s so shameless. Doesn’t even care that anyone could walk into your office and catch the two of you; doesn’t care that if anyone does, he’ll end up executed. He’s fucking you in a building full of people that want him dead and all he cares about is how your cunt feels wrapped around his cock.
Your breath hitches as Dazai shifts you to bend over just a little more, still keeping your back flush to his chest but fucking you at a new angle—one that nearly sends you spiraling over the edge for a third time. 
“Gonna give me your third now?” he pants. His hand on your lower stomach slips down, lithe fingers dipping between your folds to search for your clit—your back arches against him when he finds it, a sob spilling from your lips, vision swimming with tears. Dazai laughs again, this one is strained, catching over a moan as your walls convulse around him. “Oh, fuck. Fuck, you’re so tight.” 
Unconsciously, his grip on your throat tightens, cutting off even more air. You can hardly breathe, you can hardly think—each thrust of his hips has your head spinning, ripping the little air you can inhale right out of your lungs. The tip of his cock rubs against that spongy spot inside of you every time he snaps his hips against yours, the quick circles he rubs on your clit are electrifying. 
Your cheeks are wet, breath ragged, vision spotty. One last thrust, one last circle, and you’re wrecked, sobbing out his name as your legs give out, only held up by the way he has your thighs pinned to your desk and his hand on your neck. You cum all over his cock so hard that you think you black out for a second, your mind fuzzy and pins and needles pricking all over your body.
Dazai doesn’t stop. He fucks you through your third orgasm, relishing in the way your body twitches and trembles, too sensitive for his touch. 
“Your fourth will come quick,” he gasps. His pace is erratic now, chasing his own release. Your ears are ringing, heartbeat thudding in your ears, the wet, sloppy sound of his cock driving in and out of you resounding through your office. “I don’t think I’ll last for five. Shit, shit, I’m close.”
You have to force yourself to move. You want to see him when he finishes. Your hand wraps around his wrist, nails digging into his skin to try to get his attention. It takes all of your will power to push the two words from your lips: “Flip me.”
He does. Without any sort of hesitation, his hand drops from your throat to your waist. His cock slips out of you for a split second and your cunt aches at the loss, but Dazai is immediately pushing himself back into you as he hoists you up by the thighs, sitting you down on your desk and wrapping your legs around his waist. 
Even through your blurry vision, Dazai is a fucking sight. His dark hair is matted to his forehead, pink lips swollen and wet, cheeks flushed. His eyes glazed over and half rolled back as he chases his high. God, he’s stunning. You’ve missed him. You’ve missed him.
You’re not thinking as you lift your hand to cup his cheek, sliding around to the back of his head to pull his face down to yours, moving on pure instinct. You drag him down to press your lips against his and Dazai is gone. The moment your lips touch his, he’s moaning into your mouth, hips stuttering against you as he spills his cum deep inside of you, and he’s right, because the moment you feel his cum filling you up, warm and thick, so much of it that you can feel it dribbling around his cock, the stickiness smearing against your thighs and ruining your desk, you’re pushed over the edge for the fourth time.
This one is weaker than the rest, not a single noise escapes you but your jaw goes slack and Dazai whimpers into your mouth when he feels your walls tightening around him again. But he takes advantage of your pliancy, pushing you back gently so that your back is flush to your desk. He follows you down, keeping his chest pressed to yours as he maps out your mouth with his tongue. He rolls his hips against yours, slow and deep, fucking his cum deeper into you as the two of you slowly come down from your highs. He slants his lips against yours to deepen the kiss, hand coming up to cup your cheek, his other sliding up and down one of your thighs. 
It’s too intimate. You tell yourself that you only let it happen because you’re reeling from overstimulation but you know it's a lie.
You don’t even know how long you stay in that position with him. It could only be a few seconds, a few minutes, it could’ve been an hour for all you know, laying on your desk with him pressed on top of you, kissing you so passionately that it makes your head spin as much as the orgasms did. 
Finally, you press your hand against his shoulder, signaling for him to get off of you. He does, albeit with a reluctant sigh. You stare up at the ceiling as Dazai shakily rebuttons his pants, making his way over to the closet where you still keep your spare clothes from when you have to stay over at the office to work. 
What did you do?
You’re hyper aware of how swollen your lips are, of the marks littering your neck, of the cum dribbling out of your cunt, staining your desk. 
If anyone finds out about this-
You don’t get to finish the thought, because Dazai comes back over to you. Neither of you speak as he takes a tissue to clean up his cum from your thighs and as it dribbles out of you, nor do you speak when he shifts you into a sitting position, helping you pull on a new pair of panties and a new pair of slacks.
He stands in front of you, dozens of indecipherable emotions rocketing across his face as his dark eyes search your expression for something. You don’t know what, and you don’t even want to look at him but you can’t draw your gaze away from him.
After what feels like forever, he finally speaks.
“I missed you,” he says, voice hoarse as he lifts a hand to cup your cheek. 
You turn away from his touch, ignoring the hurt that flashes through his eyes. 
“Why don’t you believe me? You think four years has changed how I feel about you? I thought you knew me better than that.”
“It’s been four years,” you say, and you hate that your voice wavers a bit. You blame it on still being hazy after your orgasm but you know it’s a weak excuse. You hate that he still has this effect on you after all these years. You hate that you always give into him, and you hate that you know you’ll never get enough of him. You want to hate him, but you can’t. “Knowing how to fuck me isn’t the same as knowing me as a person. I barely know you anymore. You barely know me. And it’s not like you were open with how you felt four years ago. So, forgive me if it’s a bit hard to believe, Dazai.”
“You wear the same perfume. You still shoot with your non-dominant hand for some god forsaken reason. Your lips still twitch whenever you get annoyed even though you do your best to stop it. You-”
“Stop.”
“You still talk to me like you hate me even though your eyes are all soft and you’re leaning in toward me.” Dazai doesn’t stop, and to your horror, he’s right—you had begun to lean in to him instinctively as he spoke. You try to shift away from him, but he follows, fingers grazing your cheek, chest brushing yours. You don’t pull away this time. “I still wear the same cologne you bought me for my sixteenth birthday because it reminds me of you—I spent two months trying to figure out where you bought it when it first ran out. I don’t carry a gun around as often, but when I do, I still try to do that stupid flipping trick you tried to teach me when we were seventeen—I still can’t do it, almost shot myself in the knee last time I tried.”
The laugh he lets out at the last sentence is hollow. He hesitates, as if he wants to continue but isn’t sure if he should. You can feel his blunt nails scraping gently against your skin, his palm warm against your cheek. You want to pull away but you’ve missed him, no matter how much you try to convince yourself otherwise, and you find yourself sinking into his touch. You’ve always questioned why Mori sent you away for so long, angry because you figured he thought you were weak when it comes to Dazai and he didn’t want to risk anything. 
Only a few days back in Yokohama, and you’re already proving him right.
“I’m not the same person,” you tell him, something desperate edges at your tone. Desperate to convince him, or yourself, you’re not sure.
“I still love you,” he rasps, voice quiet as if he’s scared to admit it even to himself, and your heart is suddenly lodged in your throat as you stare up at him with wide eyes, the words he refused to tell you back when you were teens ringing through your head over and over again. “I’ve always loved you. Thought about you every day. I missed you so much.”
“I should hate you,” you say, swallowing thickly, unshed tears blurring your vision. “You didn’t even say goodbye. When Mori said you defected in the middle of a mission, I laughed in his face. Not because I didn’t think you’d never betray the Port Mafia, but because I didn’t think you’d ever leave me without saying anything.”
“If I said goodbye to you, I never would have left,” Dazai tells you quietly, the admission echoing in your years. “And I had to leave. I had to.”
“I should hate you,” you repeat, voice a bit weaker now, and you feel pathetic for falling apart like this in front of him. But it’s Dazai, he’s always had this effect over you. You suppose some things haven’t changed, because that certainly hasn’t. 
“I know,” he murmurs. 
You inhale deeply, shaking your head as you push yourself off your desk and straighten out your clothes, trying to get your head back on straight. You should’ve known better than to think you’d be able to come back to Yokohama and pretend that Dazai Osamu didn’t exist, for better or for worse, the two of you would always find your way back to each other. Mori was right to send you away, although you suppose the man is rarely wrong anyway.
Dazai doesn’t say anything, watching you with an unreadable expression as you search through the ruined piles of paper on your desk for the report that Akutagawa had handed you. Your eye twitches when you realize that it’s stained, realizing that you’re going to have to rewrite the whole thing because you can’t submit a cum-stained report to Mori.
Dazai snorts behind you, as if realizing your predicament. The look you give him is lethal, he silences himself quickly. 
“Don’t get yourself killed on the way out,” you tell him, grabbing your black jacket off your chair and swinging it over your shoulders as you look back at him. “If you make it out of here alive, I’ll see you at my apartment later. Then we can talk.”
His face twists. “What? Wait, don’t leave me here,” he panics, nearly tripping over his feet and your desk chair to follow after you. “Help me sneak out.”
“You got in here yourself,” you say dismissively. “Get out yourself.”
The noise he lets out is pathetic. “You do hate me,” he accuses. 
“No, I could never,” you admit quietly. His expression softens a bit, but you give him a sharp smile. “But I’m definitely not going to make things easy for you. Akutagawa is still out here prowling around. So is Chuuya, actually. Said he’d be at the office all night today. Good luck, you’re gonna need it.”
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hazelfoureyes · 1 month
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before i never really interacted with blogs(cuz anxiety and very toxic friends had my tumblr, who ive gotten rid of now) but now i literally interact with every post bc of you, you are god and i will worship you, your smut is poetic af and has my legs SHAKING(.literally.)
i am ON MY KNEES❗
also, alastor and his rivals(vox or lucifer) x reader smut? like i know alastor would be petty asf and have them watch as he fucks the living out of their beloved, im curious, do you have any ideas regarding that?(cuz your ideas are delicious and im hungry for that)
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You’ve left me speechless which is quite the accomplishment, Darling. I am just a little goblin! Or like the tooth fairy, but instead of teeth I take praise and instead of money I leave filthy smut 🥺 I am so glad you removed the toxic friends and are interacting more. 💖 you deserve better and your interactions are a joy. Thank you for brightening my day! I am so far away and yet you’ve got me blushing like a fool.
oooh yes okay so! Here’s some ideas 👀
•───⋅⋆⁺‧₊👑₊‧⁺⋆⋅───•
Energy for me is Lucifer: Here to please. Alastor: Here to win. I imagine Luci brings you to the hotel for Charlie’s Birthday party, already having a precious casual fling once or twice before. All the guests are there, everyone is dancing and drinking and having a good time. Alastor notices how you call him Luci, how Lucifer cant keep his cool when you lean closer to him when you speak. Naturally, Alastor sees an opportunity to fuck with Lucifer so he asks for a dance. He is uncharacteristically sweet and loving, willing to do anything to get under the king of hell’s skin. He changes the music to something slow, holding you close he whispers in your ear during your dance, “How can any man maintain composure around you? I feel my manners slipping through my fingers every time you look my way.” When you leave the party to cool down, Alastor follows, finding you in an empty room trying to decompress. “Would you hate me if I kissed you? Be forewarned, once I start, I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop…”
Lucifer walks in to see you absolutely melting under Alastor, lipstick smeared and face flushed. But Luci adores you, your pleasure is his pleasure and he’s compelled to stay and watch, even as Alastor makes you moan and scream his name. “Who do you belong to, sweetheart?” “Whose cock are you made for?” You’re reduced to incoherent babbling by the time Alastor is finished toying with Lucifer. Lucifer can’t take it anymore and finds himself crawling onto the bed to swallow your moans and shower you in praise.
•───⋅⋆⁺‧₊🖥️₊‧⁺⋆⋅───•
I can see Vox bringing his beloved personal assistant to an overlord meeting for note taking, and Alastor notices your glances to him. Vox adores you, and is always on his best behavior around you to impress you. Alastor waits for you outside of Vee Tower that night for a “chance run in”. “What luck! Allow me to buy you a drink, as a welcome to hell.” Charms you as any good southern boy could, and suggests you both go back to your office for privacy. Knowing full well Vox has cameras all over the office, Alastor fucks Vox’s assistant on his desk while maintaining eye contact with the massive collection of screens there. Vox catches sight of this while skimming through the feeds but can’t break away from the video. Alastor keeps your back to the displays while bouncing you on his cock, smirking at Vox the entire time as he leans back on his desk chair. Vox is seething and finally rushes to his office to find Alastor gone and you lying on your back, still out of breath and cum dripping onto the desk.
Vox keeps you, but gets rid of the desk. He can’t let Alastor have the satisfaction of making him lose his prized employee. For weeks after, while zoning out in board meetings, his screen flashes images of Alastor smirking from over your shoulder as you ride him. He’s entirely unaware that it’s happening and everyone is too scared to tell him.
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poisonheiress · 2 months
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Someone needs to say it: The "Heaven is actually bad" plot line that Hazbin is based around is useless when you spend more then 2 minutes thinking about Vivzie's Hell and her characters.
Besides it being much too early for this idea, the revelation that Heaven or at least the beings running it aren't good people has little to no impact when the people who are being harmed by this are all horrible people. Stay with me here. None of these people are people who were unfairly brought into hell and we are never ever introduced to someone who was either. Why should we care that Heaven is "evil" and blocking redemption when all the sinners in hell we see are the worst of the worst who would have never gotten in even if it was fair.
For the "Heaven is bad" plot line to actually work, you need people who were just one sin away from Heaven, who would've gotten into Heaven if circumstance hadn't forced them down a path that stole it from them. You need characters who aren't comedic villains but land in the middle of morally grey. Those who deserved to be in Heaven but because Heaven refused to consider their circumstances, they were tossed to burn with people much worse than them. Those are the people who should be your main cast cause those are the people who would actually be impacted by Heaven being bad/ Heaven lying.
Angel dust, for all his trauma, was still part of the mafia and likely had killed people before (showing to almost take joy in it). Husk became an overlord and gambled souls, so he had to have had blood on his hands before hell. Alastor is a serial killer, and the list goes on and on. Sure, these characters are (somewhat) interesting, but they don't make for good characters to have when the key plot line is that Heaven is a scam. Even if that fact is true, none of them were ever going to get there in the first place and this is something we also se in every single background sinner shown in Hell too. They were never close to getting there, so why would they or we care that Heaven is bad when all sinners are shown to be horrific people who are at best in the dark grey area of morality.
If you look at it from the "angel's are unfairly killing sinners" route, it still doesn't work. If the angels are killing them, what makes it different then the sinner on sinner violence that hell is full off? Why is them dying by angels this bad thing when they are just as likely if not 10x times more likely to get knifed in the back by other sinners in hell the other 364 days, especially when everyone here apparently is just as horrible as the next person. You cannot condemn the angels for killing demons and then make a joke of out sinners killing each other and never show sinners who doesn't want to kill people. Life either matters or it doesn't and when the main cast doesn't even show a care for life (outside of Charlie's who's entire flaw is her naivety), why should the audience.
On top of that, Vivzie's whole overpopulation aspect and the Heaven plot line would connect better if she actually had people like those I mentioned above, people who stole to survive but got tossed out cause stealing is technically wrong, people who killed another to protect someone else but were still sent to hell because even though they saved that person's life that person wasn't supposed to be saved, people who passively engaged in sins but never really did anything harmful under them. This would add into how Hell is so overpopulated and highlight why its so important that Heaven is evil/ why Charlie's plan isn't just a naive pathetic fever dream.
In the end, Vivzie should have never made Heaven the central plot of this show nor tried to assign this blatant good vs evil to that conflict. Neither her characters nor her writing choices are able to respond to this conflict in a way that will end or even tell the story in a satisfactory manner.
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rahhhbananas · 4 months
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IT GIRL ★
- male reader!
- fandom : atsv!
- pair(s) : miles morales x male reader
- warning(s) : not proof-read!
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“How long is this going to takee???”
Pavitr whined, he sat on the fire escape stairs, mindlessly fidgeting a rock. Gwen leaning against the bars smiled, “Come on Pav, it’s Y/n. He takes hours and I mean hourssss— To get ready.” Pav groaned at that statement alone, no longer bothered about how long it would take them, but how long it take to get something to eat.
“You talkin ‘bout Y/n, the hell Miles at? ‘Is got a good sense of fashion, but not good enuff to take this long.” Hobie groaned, his own stomach growling, Gwen snorted, her eyes crinkling from how large her smile was “This is only scraping the surface of those two. Once you’ve know them for a year or two, you start to prepare ahead of time.” Gwen reached into her bag, handing the two a bag of chips. “There, that should hold you guys.”
The two thanked their prepared friend, before their attention was draw to the window that had just opened. Miles walked out, he wore a black baggy jeans, a white shirt, and ontop of it navy blue varsity jacket, with white air forces. He smiled, as if he hasn’t been making the entire friend group starve for the past 20 minutes “Miles, my guy!!!”
“Oi! I trademarked that!”
“What?”
“I’m surprised you did anything involved being in the same room as a government official.”
“Yeah, ‘ve gotten real desperate after the last situation with Pav.”
“That wasn’t my faulttt!”
“What situation?”
“Don’t worry ‘bout it.”
“Okay..ignoring that totally normal..conversation, where’s Y/n? He’s glamorous and all, but taking this long? Is outrageous.” Gwen asked, sneaking a chip from Hobie’s bag.
“I’M HERE!! ★”
The group looked up, seeing Y/n on the set of stairs above them. He wore a cropped pink jacket, baggy jeans, white air forces, and on his back was a hello kitty backpack “So, where we feeling? Chinese, Pizza, BBQ? Oh, or Ice cream!” He rambled, not noticing the few irritated looks he got from his friends. “ANYTHING!” Pav screamed, using his hands to cover his face, “Anything, please.” Miles smiled, leading the group down the street, they chatted still deciding on their snacking spot.
“Oh! That cat café!” Gwen suggested, her eyes lite up at the thought of being surrounded by cute animals while enjoying a meal.
“Nah, ‘m allergic to cats.”
“And you care about your health for once? Shocking.”
“You don’t get it, bruv. My eyes swell so much I start thinking I’m in a kaleidoscope..”
“How does that even work?”
“We traveled through universes to get here, and that’s what you wanna ask?”
“Why don’t you say that louder, Pav? Maybe some crazy scientist will hear and try to kill us.”
“That’s so outta pocket.”
“lol.”
“Wow.”
“I have never heard someone say ‘lol’ in real life..that’s so— icky.”
“Pheww, good job, Gwen. Y/n has a new ‘ick’. Bravo.��
The group walked into the restaurant. It seemed to be based off the heros of Brooklyn, “Ugh, why’d we have to come to your restaurant?” Pav groaned. Hobie snorted, picking at the small figures of Spiderman, Miles’ black and red suit somehow blending with the restaurant aesthetic— he even noticed a few figures of the original hero, his merchandise in a corner that formed a sort of mural. The cashier took their orders, before they sat down at a booth near to the window.
“Do they have some of my merchandise!?!” Y/n looked around, his eyes searching the brick walls for some bit of pink. He sighed, giving up, slumping down in his seat, “Hey look, I think I saw some pink over there!” Hobie pointed, Y/n blinded by joy looked at where the teen was pointing to see a piece of chewed up bubble gum stucked to the floor, “…Why do I feel like we have issues, no matter the universe.”
“Hey, the people want what they want. And it’s clearly not you.”
“Wow, no consistency, or manners. Red flag there, Hobie.”
“Yikes.” Pavitr mumbled, sipping from his drink. Hobie however shook it off, relaxing more into his position. Miles took out his phone, snapping a few pics of the group waiting on their food, before the waiter arrived, handing out the dishes efficiently.
AN HOUR LATER!! ★
“Man, I am stuffed!” Hobie cackled, getting up from his seat. Gwen rolled her eyes, before looking at Y/n, he took his card and receipt back from the waiter. Joining his friends at the exit, the sun was starting to go down. “Damn, sundown already?” Hobie looked at his watch, noticing how late it truly was. Gwen laughed, “We left pretty late, because of two certain people.” Gwen jerked her head towards Y/n and Miles who were mindlessly talking about something while holding hands, the way they childishly would swing them every once and then looked somewhat endearing.
“We should head back to our universes though. Miguel set a curfew for a reason.”
“Or, we could brea-“
“Nope, the guy looked like he wanted to blow a vein last time I saw him. And I’m not looking to get chased on all fours, likes Miles.”
“Oh, come on! He wouldn’t catch us!”
“Hobart, no. We’re leaving.”
“Miguel not catching us? Hobie you are HILARIOUS!”
Gwen grabbed Hobie’s wrist, who although didn’t oppose the gesture physically, he looked to be doing it mentally “You’re lucky ‘m tired, Gwendy.” Gwen rolled her eyes, before throwing the lanky teen into the portal, waving goodbye to the two. Pavitr jumped through as well, shooting finger-guns at Miles before falling into the colorful abyss.
Miles smiled, wrapping his arms around Y/n’s shoulder. Making their route to his apartment. The couple chatted on their way home, talking about nothing important, but what’d they do when they got outta highschool, you know, the norm. Until they arrived at Y/n’s apartments, Miles walked him to the stairs, his eyes focused on Y/n’s each move.
“Thanks for buying our food today, especially with how Hobie and Pavitr ate. I’ll find a way to pay you back…” Miles mumbled, scratching the nape of his neck. Y/n smiled, grabbing Miles’ arm “No. don’t worry about it, you guys are my friends. I’d spend much more money on all of you If I could.” Miles laughed, “Yeah. But I’m starting to think Hobie’s allergic to paying for…well, anything.”
Y/n laughed loudly “And what you said earlier, I don’t have a lot of ‘icks” Miles scoffed, looking at his boyfriend in disbelief at the statement. Y/n groaned “I’m serious! You’ll never have to worry about icks, because you’re perfect.”
“Really? Thanks. 😏”
“You know, except that.”
“A smirk!?!?!”
“Yeah, it makes you look like a Sonic character.”
“What??”
“But I should go, my dad’s probably already made lunch.” Y/n kissed Miles on the cheek, before walking into the apartment doors.
“Wha? You can’t walks away like that!!”
“Is it a sonic character you hate??”
“What? No, i love Shadow!”
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stevebabey · 2 months
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a piece that alas, will never get finished 😔 the bath fic that was once discussed, half written, and left to rot in my tumblr drafts. i hope u can read the seeds i was planting and see the vision i had even if i never could write it <3
Hot water is, indisputably, a luxury in the Munson household.
Far as Eddie knows, the same goes for the whole damn world.
Hot water is something sacred. Something to be used scarcely, lest you drain the tank and have only cold water to wash your plates and yourself in for the rest of the week.
It's not the worst, but, well, then again Eddie can think of few things worst than needing a shower during the colder winter months when the water splutters out lukewarm and the cold trickles in right when he's in the middle of washing his hair. It sucks. Always sends him to bed with the shivers.
Hell, sometimes he'd even do the mile at school just for a chance to get in the showers first — dashing in for the free hot water that only lasted a good couple minutes.
It was worth it though, Eddie thought.
Both the exercise and the sneers, in exchange for getting to be truly warm for the first time since he'd gotten out of bed that day. Warm showers will do that to you though.
Eddie's heard stories of places, of faraway like Hawaii or somewhere, where it gets so warm that when it rains, the water sometimes rains down already warm. Like a great big shower for the whole place.
He reckons if that ever happened here in the middle of nowhere Indiana, he'd be out dancing in the streets in the warm rain. Soaking it all in. Taking not a single drop for granted.
Steve's house, as Eddie has discovered, has more than one shower — because it's got multiple bathrooms.
In the time he's been hunkered down there, his sides patched up roughly and healing at what feels like a snails pace, Eddie has taken to exploring the empty halls of the Harrington House.
It's... enormous. Gargantuan. Fucking massive.
There's rooms with doors that never open. Rooms that Eddie's never even seen Steve go near. Endless doors and cupboards and an upstairs and downstairs, and far too many garages for one just couple and their son.
Eddie explores them all.
It stems from his boredom, of course, because patient isn’t one of the words used to describe Eddie Munson but restless certainly is.
He wanders aimlessly, under the guise that he needs to keep using the muscles in his legs while he heals up but truthfully, he loves a good snoop.
Soon enough, the driving force of his wandering transforms from boredom to… curiosity.
Steve Harrington has always been an enigma to Eddie.
Upholder of conventional standards and the heterosexual gaze turned, well, loser, in the manner of a couple months- it was jarring to say the least.
Especially to the likes of people like Eddie, for whom he had represented everything wrong with small town Hawkins. Rich meathead jocks who pay their way through school.
Eddie always figured he’d had a fucking mansion of a house but this place… it’s unsettling, seeing so much space, so unlived in.
It’s even more unnerving how Steve just… doesn’t take up space.
Even in his own home. Steve’s bedroom doesn’t sprawl out, it’s not packed with possessions and hobbies like Eddie knows his own is. His wallpaper matches his sheets, picked out by someone who clearly doesn’t know Steve.
Everything is tidy because Steve seems to have this neatness ingrained deep within him. He putters around, on auto pilot sometimes, to keep the space clean for parents who don’t seem to come home.
When Steve's out at work and it's just Eddie, wandering aimlessly to keep the strength in his legs, the loneliness of the place yawns down the halls. Consuming. Suffocating.
He’s found himself eagerly awaiting Steve's arrival home from work, if only to hear someone else's voice other than his own.
Today, Eddie's searching has lead him here— into the master bedroom’s ensuite and they have a goddamn fuckin’ bathtub.
It’s a proper fancy type one with clawed bronze feet and a wide lip, made of sparkling clean marble. The type he might describe for that is a King in a campaign, just to be on the nose about how wealthy and greedy this character was.
He’s so transfixed on it that he doesn’t even hear Steve jimmying his keys into the lock, coming home.
It isn’t until— “Eddie?”
Eddie jumps, startled, as Steve’s hand touches on his shoulder lightly. His goal to not scare the other boy doesn’t go as intended, considering how much Eddie flinches but the moment he turns his head, his face is relaxing.
“Fuck, dude,” He breathes a sigh of relief, lips quirking into a smile. “Didn’t hear you come up.”
Steve shrugs a bit and scratches behind his ear, a bit awkwardly. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”
Eddie nods, but his gaze has already shifted back to the tub before them. Steve follows his gaze easily, an easy chuckle passing his lips.
“I see you found the bath.”
“Yeah…” Eddie says, sounding a bit breathless, his voice distant. Steve glances over, trying to understand the strange emotion toying on Eddie’s features. It’s just a bath. Steve hasn’t even been allowed to use it before, sure, but he likes his own shower just fine.
“It was such a bitch to get it in when they first got it,” Steve explains, folding his arms across his chest as he recalls the memory.
He points his finger behind him to the doorway without moving his arm. “Knocked down a whole wall ‘cos they couldn’t get it to through the doorway. To be honest, I’ve always thought it was kind of ugly.”
He’s waiting for Eddie to say something. For the joke, for the sneering comment on his parent’s fortune, for any lippy spiel that usually gets under Steve’s skin in the best way. The longer Eddie stays quiet, the more it begins to worry Steve.
It’s as though Eddie hasn’t even heard him.
Steve clears his throat and tries again, his tone light and delivered with a chuckle. “Man, you’d think you’ve never seen a bath before.”
Eddie’s head snaps toward Steve. He finally breaks his trance, regrettably just to snap at Steve. “I have, thank you very much.”
Steve feels a bit of embarrassment bloom over his cheeks, wanting to backtrack on his poor joke instantly but before he can open his mouth Eddie is already softening, hackles falling. His eyes are back on the bath.
“Just… haven’t even taken one.” He admits softly.
Steve doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know what’s going through Eddie’s mind — can’t come close to understanding what forlorn nostalgia is tugging at Eddie’s gut.
“Not really, I don’t think.” He continues. He pauses to think, head tilting back just a bit. “When I was really little, maybe. Little enough to fit in the sink or— or something.”
Eddie seems to realise he’s letting whatever thoughts he’s having drift out of his mouth and promptly snaps his jaw shut, teeth clacking as he does. He doesn’t look at Steve, doesn’t want to see the pity or the sympathy or the—
“Anyways,” Eddie huffs a breath, turning to leave his newfound discovery on the exploration of the Harrington House.
When—
“Do you want to?” Steve asks suddenly. His voice is sincere. “Take one?”
Eddie blinks. Wonders if it’s a joke, that it’s being offered out just so it can snatched away and Steve can laugh at how desperate Eddie is to actually be given this. He has to hastily remind himself that Steve wouldn’t do that to him.
There’s no containing the excitement rushing in his voice when Eddie spits out, “Can I?”
Steve chuckles, an easy smile at the other’s eagerness.
It’s easy to overrun the instinct that’s ingrained deep, not to cross the little rules his parents have scattered through the house — easy because he’s doing it more and more with Eddie here.
They’d eaten off his mom’s expensive and untouched china on the first night Eddie had managed to get up and about to eat downstairs, instead of tucked in bed.
He’d been so keen to help, proclaiming that he’d set the table for the both of them— too excited to be up and moving to remember that he and Steve weren’t usually as buddy-buddy as they were acting.
Steve had soaked in it greedily. Warm brown eyes, saccharine smile, he’s found that Eddie sort of glows when he’s happy. And that giving him good food is one of the ways to stir up that happiness.
But even then, Steve had paused seeing the plates in Eddie’s hands, an instant stone in his throat because he isn’t allowed to use those ones.
Sputtering through a sentence, Steve swallowed the stone and skipped over the rule he’d never broken before. It was worth it for the smile on Eddie’s face.
Just like it’s worth it now. Seeing the awed smile on his face, already a little jittery at the thought of a bath… Steve’s embarrassed to find he can’t really say no to him.
He keeps that to himself though, because if Eddie knew that he’d be batting his eyelashes and making every demand known to Earth. But then again, that didn’t sound so bad either.
Christ, Steve thinks to himself. He’s so screwed.
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Text
pairing: dad!bucky barnes x au pair!reader
warnings: age gap (reader is 10 years younger than bucky), smut (18+, dni if under 18)
author’s note: sorry for the delay folks xx
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now i wish we’d never met ‘cause you’re too hard to forget while i’m cleaning up your mess i know he’s taking off your dress and i know that you don’t but if i ask you if you love me i hope you lie to me
Bucky Barnes was a great many things, a paradox in a single man, many opposite things to different people. For some he was an angel, charity driven and ready to sacrifice himself for everything and everyone. For others, he was a demon, someone who was power driven, filled with the need for success and stepping on anyone he needed to be the first and the best. No matter what both thought, all agreed on one thing - Bucky Barnes was one hell of a charmer. He’d gotten that from his mother - old high class British charm, his father used to say. That combined with his looks made him irresistible to most people. Everyone flocked to him, everyone except for Y/N. She’d vanished from his side a bit later into the night and he hadn’t seen her since. Each time he thought to look for her, someone would need him or catch his attention.
Even with all that, he couldn’t find her. Y/N was an eye catching woman, she was beautiful and if she were anywhere near he would’ve found her. Instead, she was nowhere to be found and he was starting to get annoyed. He wanted to spend the evening with her, or at least he had intended to spend the evening with her, introducing her to the right people who could help her. He continued listening to whoever was talking to him right now - truth was, he wasn’t even sure who that person was. He just usually smiled and kept up simple talks, that was what was required of him so he would gladly keep doing it as long as it yielded results.
As for Y/N, she had almost forgotten who she was here with. Christopher Davis was someone who she always could picture herself with. He was smart, well spoken, well mannered and seemed to have an interest on her. Besides, he had gone through the same thing as her back at Columbia.
      - I’m just saying Professor Williams is a pain. - Chris laughed as Y/N explained what her supervisor had said. - If Professor Anderson likes you then you must be a bright student.  
      - Or maybe I’m just really daft. 
      - I don’t think so. - he smiled. - Sergeant Barnes doesn’t employ someone who doesn’t have promise. 
      - Except I don’t work for him ... I mean, not like you work for him, I’m just an au pair. I reckon the only criteria was are you a threat and are you good with children. 
      - How is it working with Sergeant Barnes if you don’t mind me asking?
Chris looked at her and then back at James whom he didn’t notice had been staring them down until now. He sighed, putting on his best smile, after all, he was trying to impress this girl. 
     - He’s uptight and a bit controlling but I guess you have to be if you want things to run smoothly. Specially when you work in advertising. 
     - That’s most CEOs isn’t it?
     - Yes but James Barnes is .. different. Sorry, I don’t mean to sound like a disgruntled employee. 
     - That is fine. Sergeant Barnes has got me on my nerves every once and again?
     - Is that so? - Y/N felt the blood drain from her face as she turned around to face her boss. She wasn’t afraid of him per say, but she also knew, she just knew he would probably be pissy for the rest of the evening. - Good evening Y/N, Mr. Davis. 
     - I will see you tomorrow, Y/N. - Chris smiled at the au pair.
To say Y/N was over the moon was a massive understatement. He liked her, at least she thought he liked her enough to invite her out. She didn’t think she still had it within her, she was usually busy looking over Sadie or with her postgraduate studies - that didn’t give her enough time to think about her sex and love life. That being said, maybe that explained why she was having the weird dreams and fantasies about James; familiarity. Right? It had to be that.
Bucky on the other hand felt like he’d been punched in the stomach. Chris was ... well, he didn’t know that much about Chris other than he came from money yet he couldn’t even blame him from that since he had come from money as well. He was just boring, Bucky found him boring. He didn’t take risks, at least not enough risks for someone who worked at advertising. He played it safe. It worked, but it wasn’t revolutionary. Still, Bucky didn’t like him. He definitely didn’t like him for Y/N either. Y/N was smart, innovative, caring and another bunch of positive adjectives which were too long to list. Chris was just boring.
     - So how’s that lady? - Y/N broke the silence between the two of them, a bit tipsy on the champagne which she wasn’t used to drinking.
     - What lady?
     - Delilah? - she looked up through her dizzy, tipsy mind, before snapping her fingers. - Delia. Yeah, that’s her name. How is Delia?
     - You would know if you weren’t busy flirting with my employees. 
     - Oh so you can flirt but I can’t?
     - Not when you’re with me. You’re embarrassing yourself and humiliating me.
     - But I’m not here with you, am I, sergeant? I am not your date, am I?
     - No. - he smiled forcefully. - However if I were going to flirt with someone I would pick someone less boring. 
     - You work in advertising, Sergeant. Everyone is boring. 
(...)
Bucky had never spent a whole night alone with Sadie, not when she was awake. Yet, here he was, left behind by his au pair so she could go and date boring Chris while he had to deal with a very hyper Sadie who was running around as if it wasn’t 8 o’clock yet. He usually had a babysitter or he had Y/N, or Steve yet right now he was by his lonesome. He thought she would’ve settled down if he played princesses, yet, she did not. Instead Bucky now had knotted hair, glitter on his face and probably some on his eye and permanent marker on his neck. He had finally given up and done the worse thing in the eyes of every parenting book - he’d given her a tablet loaded with all the Bluey seasons. Meanwhile he’d taken to watching re-runs of Mad Men. 
     - Bed? - he asked the curly haired ginger who looked up at him, her hair in front of her face. - I’ll give you 10 dollars?
     - No. - she replied before looking back at her tablet. Bucky sighed, looking up at the ceiling. Soon the terrible twos would be done and he’d have the terrifying threes. 
    - 20 dollars? - he said once again but she ignored him. He sighed, how come Y/N managed to do this? - Sadie, you can either go to bed or you can be tired tomorrow and not go to the park with Y/N. Choose. 
She looked at him with the death stare which she had inherited from him, but eventually got up, grabbing his hand. Bucky smiled, picking her up and walking to her bedroom. He pushed the sheets from her bed, carefully rolling her to her mattress before tucking her in, handing her a Bingo plushie. 
    - You want a story, babe? - he asked her, brushing her curls away from her forehead. - No?
    - Light?
    - I’ll turn your little moonlight on. - he kissed her forehead. - I love you, Sisi bug. 
She smiled at him and it was enough for him to know she meant she loved him too. He tucked her once more before turning off the main light, leaving the room softly lit by the nightlight. Slowly and softly he went up the stairs, grabbing a wick basket and started collecting toys onto it. She had too many toys, still he wouldn’t stop buying them. As he finished it, Bucky sat back down on the couch. He was annoyed. Why did she even go out with that prick? The only thing they had in common was an alma matter and god knows Chris was a legacy student so it wasn’t like he tried as hard to get into university like Y/N had. God, he hated him. Hated how bland and boring he was. 
He toyed around with the remote, trying to find something that would get his head out of the idea of goddamn Christopher Davis trying to get her out of the practically translucent dress she had been wearing. Bucky could swear she did it on purpose, just to show off to him in those strap heels and short sheer black dress like a temptress. He changed channels once more, hoping he’d find something ... maybe a pay per view porn channel or something. Yet nothing took his mind of his au pair, his employee who he should have some professionalism with, and that stupid lacy bra he could make out under that dress. Dressing up like that for goddamn Davis. 
He stared at his phone, watching as hours passed yet nothing fulfilled. Eventually, Bucky made a mistake, a huge, massive mistake. A mistake which fulfilled itself as he opened the door to show Delia. He handled things badly but right now he needed his fill. 
His lips attacked hers as they stumbled towards the bedroom, Bucky locking the door behind him. This was a bad habit, a terrible habit but her lips felt good, her taste was tempting and Bucky wasn’t the one to have good habits. However, today, things were ... different. Her lips leaving lipstick marks on his neck didn’t feel the same. Maybe this was a mistake. He shouldn’t really have a woman in the house when his daughter was asleep upstairs. 
   - Are you alright? - Delia pulled away from him.
Bucky blinked, he had to be going ... stir crazy. Maybe he’d drank a bit too much whiskey but her features morphed and he could swear that in place of the woman he usually called whenever he needed release, stood the woman he wanted to be here now. The sheer dress a vivid memory in the back of his mind. He ignored her question, moving to kiss her neck and putting his hand over her mouth. His fantasies took full front stage as his mind drew a different reality.
All he could see was her, red lips open wide with soft, high pitched moaned as he kissed down her body, doing away with her dress and her underwear. He wanted to mark her, he wanted to mark this vision of a woman he craved. His hands found the top of his joggers, pushing it down as if he were a horny mess. His cock was painfully hard, slapping against his stomach as he stood over her, this vision of Y/N. All he could think of were all the times she saw her, the outline of her breasts, her collarbones. He didn't pace himself, instead lining up with the woman's entrance before he gripped her hips and slide himself in, without much a second of though. The feeling made him grown, he was insane he reckoned, insane because he knew this wasn't her but all he could see is her. The soft moans, the contracted muscles. He fucked her hard and rough until he felt his release approach. Once he did, he slide himself off, jerking off and coming on her stomach, rolling to the side of the bed. He stared at the ceiling fan of the guest bedroom, his mind lulling him back to reality ... all he could think when that moment was once simple thing - Fuck Chris Davis. 
(...)
Y/N didn’t spend the night. He noticed that in the morning as he was getting prepared from work and saw her walk in, with her dress crimped and hair barely brushed. His blood bubbled. If she wanted to fuck old money, she could’ve fucked him. 
    - Had your release? - he knew he was being mean now, just looking to stir the pot. - Fun night?
    - Why? Need some new jerking off material? - she crossed her arms, speaking in a manner and language that almost made him spit his coffee. - Who’s taking Sadie to school?
    - Well, if you can still walk I’d say he did a pretty shit job, huh?
    - I guess I’m taking Sadie to school. - she rolled her eyes. - And it’s none of your business.
    - Well my employee is fucking another one of my employees. Maybe you should go to HR. 
    - Maybe I should and tell them that the boss is acting like an ass. Are you seriously still upset at me that I flirted with someone at your weird benefit? I’m single, I’m allowed to flirt!
    - Not with Chris Davis. Seriously, Y/N, get a better taste in men. 
    - Because you have such a great taste in women. - she poured herself a cup of coffee. - Since you’re dressed, maybe you should take Sadie to school and see your favourite ego boosting group the PTA mums. 
    - Maybe I will.
    - Picking Sadie up from school or do you want me to?
    - Steve’s picking her up.
    - Steve?
Steve. 
////////////////////////////////////
taglist : @talesofadragon @themermaidscales82​ @winters1917​ @vladsgirlxx​
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vampiretendencies · 1 year
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come out and haunt me, i know you want me — jj maybank࿐
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summary; putting words in jj’s mouth after an unexpected pregnancy has you uneasy about the future of your relationship along with a gnawing emptiness of what jj will think. warnings; pregnancy, one mention of throwing up, suggestive, talks of sex, fluff, all of my characters are always aged up but they had to be in school for this so i set them in high school, as seniors, making them 18. this takes place somewhat in season 3, except JJ’s house never got the eviction notice and they went back to school. also mention of luke. did it this way cause i felt like i was i need of a new setting other the chateau (rip it will be missed :/) pairing; jj maybank x fem!pregnant!reader authors note; decided to put this one out, as i have gotten a lot of requests about dad!jj and i’m giving them a separate masterlist of their own. i figured they needed to be in order lol. so i guess in a way this can be considered the first of dad!jj series. cred to gif owner !
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You’re spiraling over the life forming inside of you and JJ—oddly enough is fretting about his class project final. Something that would usually be of no concern to JJ, but he actually wants to pass senior year.
Building an ancient, time-consuming model of some old landscape and having an actual child were two completely different things. From opposite worlds and of varying natures.
Spontaneous cravings all the way down to a late period.
It’s instinct really, to skip school and confirm your suspicions— though, it’s pretty much certain. JJ caught on half way throughout the school day, so wrapped up in this project that he hadn’t noticed you slipping away. Sneaking out of the exit door after throwing up rancid lunch. If he was aware, there’s not a doubt that he would have followed. He was the one that showed you that escape route from the hell site on a monday long ago when school was too much to bare— that was when the two were freshmen, for now they are seniors carrying the weight of the future on their shoulders, including the plus one in your belly.
You’d sobbed profusely into your knees, they were pulled all the way up to your chest on that tiled floor. The detrimental pregnancy test, with two lines, is sat atop JJ’s bathroom counter, taunting you in a manner of ‘now you have to face me.’ Debating whether or not to take this as life altering or life shattering. You knew JJ like every crevice in the palm of his hand, but you could never be set on his reaction for something like this. Always prominent in his ways about 'being in this for the long run', could having a baby change that?
You had to tell him, there was no other way around it. For it's always been a do tell promise that nothing goes unsaid in the relationship.
"What the fuck am I gonna' do?" Is all that curses past your lips repeatedly through choked tears.
The tears are not for the tiny being inside you; its fear. The fear of the unknown, or the uncertainty. So young, so much ahead. A small sliver of a thought that maybe you'd have to do this alone.
Your heart almost falls to the heals of your feet at the doors opening and closing, and the throwing down of book bags. Shakily pressing your finger to the phone that's beside you, the time reading 2:30 PM, meaning school was over and you'd have to get your act together to face JJ. Whom, had left you several missed calls and text messages concerning your whereabouts. Even so, it would be of no surprise to JJ that you were here; basically, here every day and home when you had to be, that's how the story goes. It's imaginable that you'll be sticking around as often as you'd be able to, because telling your parents would indefinitely make them disown you. Having a baby with the Luke Maybank's son and the towns 'well-known kleptomaniac' wouldn't exactly be music to their ears. The only positive in that picture is that Luke's not around, you and JJ have been slumming it in his childhood home since. You'd helped him fix it up so that it would be 'livable', and he adored that someone would cherish him that much to do such things. He'll have another form of adoration, soon enough though.
"JJ, a beer is not gonna' help you get this shit done."
You could hear John B mumble at JJ, and as it would to most curiosity strikes. Taking in the push and pull of the standard refrigerator, not far away, the bathroom, kitchen, and living room all but feet away from each other. Easy access to eavesdrop and hear whatever words were to slither out of someone's mouth. God, you swore the walls were bound to cave in and topple atop of you. You picture John B's mouth agape and disgusted at JJ's lack of focus.
"Get's my brain goin', y'know."
His voice that you'd usually get giddy everywhere from hearing, is now taunting you; making your insides turn to mush. Quick to your feet, you clamp your ear to the chipped door whilst fixing your disheveled hair in the mirror, by tucking it behind your ear and wiping away the salty tears with pad of your thumb. Something JJ would do impulsively. As well as, the little pink and white stick that's knocking the breath from your lungs and tucking it in the back pocket of your printed shorts.
"You ready to start?" John B sighs exasperatedly. Aware that his best friend is never prepared for anything. You aren't sure of what they are 'starting' but you can't help but wonder if JJ's caught on, if he's noticed the tendencies you've acquired since becoming pregnant. Already being hesitant on telling him of the stick you peed on, or that this is going to dictate the course of the rest of his life. Is the new formation of hormones within you causing you to twist words or is it plain truth?
One could only hope.
"M'not even ready yet, need to do so much stuff before I'm ready."
It stings; like multiple daggers had been chided at your heart or a million bee's attacking. This only makes since that he's referring to not wanting to be a father, right? What else could he possibly not be ready for? It's assuming, it's jumping to conclusions, but right now it makes a hell of a lot more sense than anything else. JJ's capable of eons of things, being stuck with you and a baby for the rest of his life may not be in his peripheral. He's confirming it right now, you just heard it with your own two ears.
Unbeknownst to you it was a about a damn silly school project and that he would've stretched time and space to keep his profound little family in one piece. If only he'd known. If only you'd told him.
There were no supplies, no class instructions, to justify that it was only a monumental historic copy for Mr. Sunn's class. Just conversation.
You physically can't allow the words to come out of your mouth, for it will be in the form of word vomit after his resonating and everlasting statement. You can't face him, no, not about the life he helped form. Too soon, and too much. Selfishly, he's not ready but you want to hang onto him a little longer. With JJ is where you reside, and you desire to bury the love he's giving you and harvest it deep down; enough for two. He's not prepared, and all you're hearing is this is this the end of all you've ever known.
World record for misunderstandings.
John B was on the verge of speaking, yet he doesn't when the bathroom door creeks open. You appear in frame, a shell of the person you were moments ago, unevident that you'd shed enough tears for a small river. The hiding is beginning, you decide to swallow it down and keep it there. Dreaming up all the ways you'd have to conceal as huge a secret as this.
Trepidation; of JJ, and for yourself and the baby; blistering, mirroring that of an open scar.
"Is that my girl?!"
You're met with John B sprawled out on the vacant leather couch, another thing Luke destroyed alike with JJ. And, JJ's practically jumping from the recliner and swarming you in a hug that makes you form a half enticing grin whilst smothering you into his large chest. His sleeveless arms bulking in size at this gesture.
"Great, now we really aren't gonna' get anything done," John B grabs at his temples in annoyance. The partnered project supposed to be the focus of today. Conscious of the fact that anytime you are around JJ loses all logic because you become the center of attention. As if half his brain flies out the window he's so invested in you, rather than anything else. He gives up on any aspiration that this replica will be finished. You still saunter on about what exactly they 'have to get done', but they are almost always up to something. JJ's out of context words were what gave need be, and you were fixed on that.
"What happened today? Been thinkin' about you like crazy."
"Nurse sent me home."
You fib so harshly that is burns past your lips, the lie is so loud you're amazed he didn't see through it. You mumble into his chest has him releasing you, only to cup your cheeks in a squishing manner. He’s disastrously anguished to maul you with affection, but he decided to spare John B the show.
"Everything alright?"
And he tries to read your wandering eyes, but still taut eye contact is there so he thinks nothing of it. It is when you won't look at him that he's concerned, however you still do.
An 'act normal' practically engraved in your thoughts. When you really want to break away from his hold and run for the hills.
"Just a bad lunch."
"Yeah, that school meatloaf'll get you, baby."
Blonde fluffed out tresses catch glance and your mixed up mind is pondering on what color hair the baby will have. Will the small child be a constant reminder that their dad 'wasn't ready?" Stood together in the open space of his connecting hallway, you'll look back on this in utter agony.
"She told me to rest."
You mutter it softly whilst JJ has a stupid lovesick grin plastered on his face, peering down at you like you are his lifeline. And you're peering up at him, with a small glint and awareness that he'd be gone with the wind when you reveal the surreptitious unknown.
"Want me to come with you? I'll have this wrapped up in like ... five minutes," he's eager that you'll say yes, mustering a middle finger at John B who is sighing in vexation. What he would give to pass senior year, John B fully know's he'll have to beg Pope to do this for the both of them.
It's an immediate no, he's 'not ready', therefore a cuddle is the last thing that needs to happen. Maybe if you wouldn't have eavesdropped you could've just lived in ignorance bliss.
Though it was never the truth.
"No!," you somewhat interject, keeping the cause of all this in mind. "No J, m'really tired, finish what you were doing yeah?"
His grin immediately falls to a pout, he can't force you if you won't let him. Instead he says nothing, shaking his head 'yes' with knitted eyebrows. Pulling your cupped cheeks in closer to feather multiple light pecks to your hairline, each one more eternal that the last.
With recollection that you'd be gulping down this hard to swallow pill on your own.
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Coping; all you can manage to do.
Between punching multiple hard to find holes in your bedroom walls and covering them up with posters to gut-wrenching, pillow-screaming whimpers.
How does one ever truly 'get ready' for bringing a new life into this sought out world?
You'd been wallowing in the despair of having to be both a mother and a father, with JJ saying such things— it's nearly certain he'll be out of the picture.
Alike with you, avoiding him on any given occasion.
Saturdays were date night and he consistently topped the last date, because even if schedules weren't aligning throughout the week he'd have that day to make it up to you, how ever he saw fit.
You ditched.
Texting something about, 'parents are on my ass, can't come tonght.'
On all occasions you found a way despite your parents thoughts, so JJ's suspicion is growing like immovable fire.
With that being said, a day later, he was secure in providing you with a loving semi-guilt trip, along the lines of 'if you don't come over tonight you are confirming that you don't love me anymore,' with a dauting smiley face.
Such a baby, unfortunate that he's not prepared for one because they would've gotten along just fine.
The reasoning behind why you are hopelessly distant from JJ in his twin sized bed. He's grumbling and mumbling after you pushed him away with a 'm'too hot right now.' Blankets thrown about in such a dimly lit room, his vivdly colored TV played a miscellaneous movie whilst his bedside table lamp joined in with its yellow toned rays.
His arms behind his head, colliding with the headboard in such a sensous way, shirtless figure scanning yours in yearning. Jesus, he just wanted to delve into your skin.
How could he ever resist you.
If he can't consume you with his fondling embrace, he will caress what's in reach.
Touching hard on his thoughts, whilst the likelihood of raising a baby on your own is arising in yours.
It's roaring loudly, along with the reality that you hid it from him.
What would've been the right thing to do?
A wash of panic prods, with JJ's lingering touch now against your skin. His digits dance like clockwork, ghosting your inner thigh. Before you can even retch out a 'stop' he's beneath the material of your old Bait Shop t-shirt that he lended you. Palming the skin expertly, and while he's at it he inches closer with his breath thick against your ear. Your mouth ran dry, lying still and flat in awkwardness, prying your focus on the random film. The small twin bed not giving you enough time or space to come up with another excuse.
"Missed you so much."
His voice is raspy against your ear, igniting every filament of your body that belonged to him. The hold he had on you, sickening and you are conversant with what's about to leave his mouth.
The more he keeps circling, and clinging to the small mound of your stomach, the more his mind goes blank. It had this particular bludge to it and he can writhe it beneath his fingertips. Horror fills your irises, whilst a bewildering form of fascination filled his.
There's no right way to ask as woman if their stomach has gotten bigger or if they've been eating more. That's like asking to get beat with a bat. You just don't.
JJ has foraged every unreachable portion that molds you and that ... that wasn't there.
That undeniable little Goddamn baby bump wasn’t there.
He’s studied you inside and out, and that just wasn’t there.
It’s freshly shaped and growing with glee.
His repeated motions are coming to a halt and they pause directly in the middle. Feeling for what he deemed this to be.
What the fuck? It runs rampant in his mind— not negatively he just doesn’t know what to think, how to say it, or how to not come off as a complete dick by asking what he’s about to ask.
“Your belly is more round than usual.”
Merely thought out, and not too harsh. Just stating the obvious at the rounded baby bump that’s colliding with his calloused ring-clad fingers. The entirety of his large hand sprawled out in separated fingers. He sits straight up, hairs on the nape of his neck screeched outwardly.
“M’ a bit bloated.”
You don’t take his words to heart as it’s obviously not from that. You smile, lying through your teeth once again. And JJ senses it, this is as pregnant a stomach if he’s ever touched one. His hands fall backward, beaming down at you in longing that you’ll change your answer.
“Bloated baby? That’s— that’s not … bloated.”
There’s no interest in continuing on with this facade he’s felt it, he’s not a complete idiot. What informed John B of chants wickedly and is beckoning you not tell him. You’ve found you way back to his room with reason, so what’s the use in hiding it anymore. The bump would’ve become more noticeable anyway, you couldn’t have gotten away with it forever.
“M’pregnant J.”
You are seated upward now, facing him whilst reaching for his large hands to take them into your smaller ones. Shared hands, facing eachother in criss crossed stances on that same old twin mattress. He shakes his head back in forth in disbelief— how is this real?
“W-what?! When did you find out? How?— shit. I mean I know how … there was the time in the bathroom at the Wreck … and that one time in the twinkie … and-and let’s not forget about the time in the kitchen-“
“J, that’s not important right now, focus.”
You remind in interruption, nagging off his antics about the shared sexual rendezvous. The only only thing … the only fucking thing JJ feels right now is sheer euphoria at the moment he gets to meet the little baby.
Always envisioning of being a father and giving his children all the love he had stored away from the beckoning of Luke. The love he got from his father was convenient love, and after every fight his dreams of the future family he could have grew tenfold.
“We’re having a fuckin’ baby?!”
The fact the you didn’t tell him beforehand is in the back of his mind, but he’s overlooking it in sheer elation. Joy for what’s to come. For even that promise to tell each other everything is not enough to ruin this moment for him.
“Yes, J.”
“Let me see!”
He’s anxiously lifting the bottom of the shirt up, revealing a plump baby bump purging outwordly. And a toothy shit eating grin is plastered on his sweet lips, awe is evident and he’s stricken with amazement. You couldn’t have asked for a better reaction, a better lover. Breezing past the part of him not being ready, because clearly you read into things too deeply if this is his truthful response. And it is, it’s so genuine you feel it in your bones. As he’s colliding his hands with your stomach once more, and connecting his lips with yours in celebration. Molding and mixing them together with ease, an effortless depiction of besot.
If only he could frame this and let it drift on for eternity.
“Carrying our baby so perfect, pretty girl.”
Letting this little heavenscent angel inside of you be a reminder that misunderstandings are a bitch.
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oh-thats-what-it-is · 3 months
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Jess Mariano SMUT: The best friend and the boyfriend.
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POV: Your best friend Rory always gets what she wants as the town’s golden girl. Well, you have had enough and its time you get what you want.
WARNINGS: 18+ (minors dni); cheating; rory slander; lorelai slander; p in v intercourse; dirty talk; unprotected sex; light choking - i think that is it
AUTHOR’S NOTE: wasn’t enough jess smut for me on here. Wanna fix that! first time writing anything so please be gentle. 2k+ words
You’re at Luke’s diner trying to get some work done before your exam tomorrow. The wetness inbetween your legs was proving a great distraction to the task at hand. You had to muster every ounce of concentration to listen to what Lane and Rory were saying. The three of you were finishing up your group project for school. You had all been friends for years, but recently you had found it hard to be yourself around them.
The reason for that, was standing behind the counter, serving customers with a surly look and a quippy comment if he spoke at all. Jess.
The whole town knew about him and Rory. How could they not? Stars’ Hollows’ golden girl drew attention wherever she went. Her and Dean’s romance had been the talk of the town - the stuff of young love! And she could do no wrong. Even after she dragged Dean through hell and back with her indecisiveness before ultimately bringing him to breaking point - people still loved her.
And hey - you did too. She was your best friend. But you couldn't help but roll your eyes at the way the town fawned over her. Even though it had been happening your whole lives. Rory and her busybody, try-hard mother were the apple of the town’s eyes. And you were used to it.
But you had been surprised that Jess had fallen for it. When he arrived in town, a sullen and brooding figure, you had immediately felt drawn to him. You could sense his angst. You could feel it vibrating off of him. And lets not pretend like he wasn’t a total smokeshow. He looked like a man.
If only Lorelai and Luke weren’t so close. Then you might have gotten your chance. But as fate had it, and as it always seemed to, Rory got in there first. Lorelai invited Luke and Jess over for a welcome dinner, and he instantly became smitten with Rory’s mild manner. It only took a matter of months - and a breaking of one Dean Forrestor’s heart - until they became an item.
At first it was all rosy. Rory wouldn’t shut up about it. But you could tell. Something wasn’t quite right. Two months passed and Rory would go red every time Jess was brought up, or came to sit with your group at lunch. You asked Rory - genuinely as a friend. She would just mumble and divert the subject. Lane also pressed, but there was no budging Miss Gilmore.
It was only a month ago when you cottoned on to what the problem was. You had been wearing jeans that hugged your ass, and a top that teased just enough of your cleavage to make anyone blush. You bumped into Jess in the hallway at school. As in, physically bumped into him, as he came around the corner. He grabbed onto you out of instinct to apologise.
“Oh hi Y/N. What are you….” His eyes trailed down to your chest. You didn’t notice at first. You thought he was dazed by the surprise interaction.
“Just on my way to Spanish. Señora Castilla is making us do a book report - I’m doing 100 years of Solitude.”
“Hmm” he responded. “That’s one of my favourites. Magical realism, love, scandal - “
And then you clock. His eyes are on your tits. His hand is still on you. On the small of your back.
This man is hungry. He hasn’t been laid or anything of the sort in a while. Or at least since he has been with Rory. Jess wants you. You avert your gaze.
“Jess. I have to go.”
He moved his hand lower, testing the waters. You don’t remove it. You inhaled, trying to retain your morals. You remind yourself: We’re in the middle of the hallway. At school. He is Rory’s boyfriend. Rory is my best friend.
You repeated these over and over to yourself like a mantra, willing yourself to move. After what seems like an eternity, he whispers in your ear: “My car. 10 minutes,” and sauntered away.
And that was how it began. A whole month of some of the steamiest makeout sessions, hottest sex, and best orgasms of your life. Did the secrecy turn you on? Maybe. Did you feel bad for Rory? Perhaps. But were those moments with Jess worth it? Absolutely.
You had to be careful. Not just to avoid Rory and Lane. But Luke couldn’t know either. If he did, he would have gone straight to Lorelai and it would have been a whole thing. It wasn’t worth it. So the two of you would sneak in quickies in his car, behind Miss Patty’s studio, in the AV room at school etc.
But Luke was out tonight. Doing something for Lorelai probably. Who knows. Jess had suggested the two of you take advantage of the situation. He had recently acquired his own room at Luke’s, ever since his uncle had knocked a hole in the wall for him. It wasn’t much, but you couldn’t wait to share a bed with him, and take your sweet time worshipping his body.
“Okay Y/N, we’re off. You coming?” Asked Lane.
“Nah, I have a bunch more work to do for my college application. I will see you both tomorrow?”
Rory went over to give Jess a kiss goodbye. You couldn’t help but smirk as you saw him looking at you as she kissed his cheek. The two girls waved goodbye and left the cafe.
The minute they left, Jess pounced on your table. He summoned Cesar to take over his shift and close up.
“Cmon baby” he whispered, taking care not make it look obvious to the other customers what was going on.
You and Jess went up the stairs silently but quickly. The minute you reached the top flight and opened the door into the living quarters, Jess slammed the door shut and pressed you against it.
“Do you know how bad you are? Sitting right next to my girlfriend and giving me those ‘fuck me’ eyes all night? It was all i could do not to take you on the table right there.”
His forehead was against yours, his hands cradling your face. All you could see was him. All you could feel was him.
“Such a good boy for restraining yourself,” you cooed, trying lure him into making the first move. Each time you were together, it still felt like new. A game of chicken. Who would break first? Fresh and dangerous, yet familiar and comforting all at once. “It must have been so hard for you” you said, moving your hand towards his crotch. “Show me how much you want me” you dared.
It was too much for him. He growled and leant in to kiss you with everything he had. He was messy and sloppy with need. His teeth clashed against yours. You moaned with need. Your hands wandered to your waist, dipping under your trousers, then your panties. You started playing with your clit and panting his name back into his mouth.
You were still against the door. Jess moved his hands under your shirt, finding the valley of your chest easily as you hadn’t worn a bra today.
“Fuck” he said, breaking the kiss. “You had your tits out all day baby girl? You are such a slut, wanting everyone to notice.”
Before you could begin to formulate a reply, his mouth was on your left nipple. You sighed as he sucking with such fervour. Just as you got used to the sensation enough to say something witty to him, he bit down hard. You yelped - this was a new move from him. He obviously felt emboldened by the new setting, being in his own territory and out of a car.
Jess went to your right nipple, sucking and making the most obscene slurping noise and his hand went to your other tit. It was too much. It felt too good. You started playing with your clit with even more until he finally noticed.
“That’s my job Y/N. Its not like you to be so selfish!“ he scolded. He grabbed both your wrists and pressed himself into you, letting you feel his bulge. You whimpered at the loss of your fingers inside your wet cunt and pouted at him. He brought your fingers to your mouth.
“Suck” he said, with a devious glint in his eyes. Like a fucking wet wipe, you did as he said. You were embarrassed at first, but didn’t care. You would do anything he said at this point.
When he was satisfied you had fully cleaned your fingers, he took them out your mouth and kissed you hard and hungrily on the lips.
You saw you opportunity to the turn the tables, to take power. “Jess?” You asked innocently.
“Hmm?” He responded, trailing kisses down your neck.
“The whole point of tonight is that we have a bed for once. Let’s make the most of it.” You pushed him off you and took his hand. You walked past the door to his bedroom. He stopped you and looked at you confused.
“Oh Jess. I don’t wanna be fucked in your single bed. I want to feel all of you” you whispered in his ear, guiding him to Luke’s room and king-sized bed.
His eyes widened with realisation and need. Was this a bad idea? Almost certainly. Did he care? At this point, not even wild horses could stop him from having you. He would do anything you said. And he had to admit, there was something hot about doing it somewhere he shouldn’t.
You pushed Jess onto Luke’s bed, unzipped his jeans and pulled down his boxers. His cock sprung up immediately. It was red, throbbing and angry. You couldn’t help but drool. Jess saw this and smirked. He knew what he did to you. He pulled off his shirt, knowing it would drive you crazy.
You dived onto his cock, unable to wait any longer. You took all of him in his mouth, as he held your head there. His pubic hair tickled your nose. You stayed there for as long as possible, until your eyes watered. You took your head off, wiped your mouth, and then began bobbing up and down slowly.
Jess propped himself up on his elbows, watching you like a hawk. His tongue was sticking out as he concentrated his breathing to stop himself from blowing his load. His dark curls were pressed wet against his forehead as beads of sweat started to roll down his face.
You moved to his balls, gently sucking them into your mouth while your hand moved up and down on his rock hard member. He started moaning and rocked his hips into your hands, desperate for more.
You had him right where you wanted him. You removed yourself from him completely and clambered to sit on top of him. His cock was nestled in your folds. So close to where he wanted to be. So close to where you wanted him to be. But you decided the chase was more fun. You lowered yourself down, so that your tits were pressed against his chest.
You whispered “Can Rory make you feel this way, Jess? Does she drive you wild like I do? Can she make you moan like a bitch the way I can? Has she ever made your cock this hard?” You punctuated each sentence with a nip on his ear.
“Fuck you,” he replied, grabbing your ass and turning you onto your back so that he was on top. He pushed himself into you and started fucking you with no mercy.
Your tits were bouncing with every thrust and you were whimpering with need every time he pulled out. You snaked your arms around his back, pulling him deeper into you. You didn’t want any space between you.
“You’re such a whore Y/N. Fucking your best friend’s boyfriend. I can’t believe it turns you on so much.”
You moaned at this words, unable to deny the appeal of the whole situation.
“Fuck baby, I can feel your cunt clenching around me as i say that! You are a fucking whore Y/N, squeezing me with your greedy pussy. Such a bad fucking girl.” Jess yelps, spanking your ass.
“I am a whore Jessy, your whore, only for you” you cried, embarrassed by your pathetic display. He grinned as you used the nickname you only brought out for him when you were cock drunk beyond belief. You groaned inwardly as you couldn’t believe you had given him the satisfaction of that ego boost.
You were lost completely in Jess. He moved his hand down to your core, adding a finger into your weeping pussy, and using his thumb to toy with your clit. It was bliss.
“Jessy?” You called out.
“Hmm?” He groaned in response.
“I want you to cum inside me” you begged.
His eyes widened as a wild look came over him. Without missing a beat, he swung your legs over his shoulders and bent you in two as he fucked into you harder than before. His hand moved to your throat, gently choking you. You stuck your tongue out like a dog in heat - animalistic and beyond a care as to what was normal.
The bed’s headboard was hitting the wall with every thrust from Jess’ pelvis, sure to cause a suspect dent tomorrow. But neither of you could have given a single fuck as the you both chased your highs. The sound of skin slapping, moans and gasps were obscene.
“Jess, have you seen Luke’s toolbox? We need it and he said it might be - Oh my god!”
You both froze and turned to the door. Lorelai was face to face with you and Jess butt naked on Luke’s bed. Sorry - lets rephrase that. Lorelai walked in on her daughter’s boyfriend and best friend fucking raw on Luke’s bed.
She narrowed her eyes and hissed: “Get the fuck out.”
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grandlinedreams · 5 months
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| a lovely request from @shewalksinanotherworld sorry it took me longer than I thought hdhd but I hope you like it!!
[Heads up!: Fluff, mentions of blood/injury, cursing]
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Shit, shit, shit.
Thunder rumbles overhead, the sky an ominous gray that threatens to edge into black as lightning lances across.
Fuck. 
How had you gotten yourself into this mess? Months ago you'd never have found yourself in an unfamiliar town, trying to lose a handful of marines on your tail, because they'd recognized you from a wanted poster.
Months ago, you hadn't even had a wanted poster. You'd been perfectly fine, living a fairly boring, untroubled life.
And then he had shown back up, looking the same as he always did. Tanned skin, harumaki sash, three swords at his waist ㅡ Roronoa Zoro.
You could pick him out in a crowd, know his attitude and mannerisms perhaps better than most ㅡ because at one time, you'd been in love with him. (And perhaps still are, but the jury is out on that one.)
Nonetheless, he'd waltzed back into your life, three earrings jingling with that stupid smirk on his face ㅡ and brought his crew with him. (A relatively new development, because the Zoro you know would never have partnered himself with pirates.)
And now, here you are. Luffy's reasoning had been something along the lines of "a friend of Zoro's has gotta be as cool as him! Wanna join my crew?" and you'd been so baffled that it'd been hard to say no. Although you wonder what Zoro has told them about you, because you used to be a lot more than just friends. 
You just wish you could find where exactly you'd agreed to something like this. Hand pressed flat against the split in your side, you try to even your breathing and weigh your options as fresh blood seeps between your fingers. 
There's a chance that they'll give up when they can't find you ㅡ but then decide that if you're here, so are the others. You could also turn yourself in ㅡ but your bounty is meager compared to ones like Luffy, Sanji, or Zoro. 
Overhead, there's the clap of thunder, then a raindrop. Two, three ㅡ and then the roar of rainfall as the dirt beneath you quickly soaks into sticky earth. You can hear footsteps and overlapped voices, wondering where you've disappeared to as they near. 
Fine, you think, wiping your blood slick hand on your pants before you reach for your own blades. There are just two of them, and your skill is nowhere near as refined as Zoro's, but you can hold your own. If you make it out of this, you're tempted to reconsider your new career path.
"Gentlemen," you say as you step out, "this is as far as you go, I'm afraid." 
You know you hardly look the type to take a life, especially now ㅡ rapidly becoming soaked to the bone and bleeding, but that's fine. You'll use their assumptions to your advantage. Steeling yourself and blocking out the dull thrum of pain from your side, you dart forward.
Though you aren't on par with Zoro (yet, you tell yourself constantly, yet), you aren't an idiot, either. You've trained hard with your swords, and it shows as you defend yourself.
Your wound, however, is ultimately your undoing as the amount of blood you've lost begins to catch up with you ㅡ and the fact that you've never been in a fight on your own like this. 
One of the last marines uses that to his advantage, swinging a foot out to catch yours and pressing forward when you stumble and hit the ground. "Tell me where the rest of your crew is," he demands sharply. "You're with the Strawhats, they must be around here somewhere."
You glare. "Bite me." 
He scowls, teeth gritted as he lifts his blade to bring it down ㅡ and then chokes on a mouthful of blood as a sword that does not belong to him pierces through his middle. 
It isn't yours, either. Zoro looms above the mortally wounded marine before he lets him topple to the side, yanking his sword free before he turns to you.
"The hell are you doin' on the ground like that?"
You scowl. "Admiring the view," you huff sarcastically, hand pressing to your side as you get to your feet, and Zoro tracks the movement.
"You're bleeding."
"Brilliant observation." You use the coat of one of the marines to clean your swords of blood and grit, making a note to clean them properly once you're back on the ship. 
Zoro follows you at a more sedate pace until he finally pipes up. "You sure you know where you're goin'?"
"Yes, Zoro. Because unlike some people, I'm not horribly inept with my directional skills." Your tone is somewhere between teasing and genuine annoyance, instigated by the ache of your side and chill that's seeping into your bones as it continues to rain.
Zoro clicks his tongue, irritation flaring. "Does everything have to be a fight with you?"
"And here I thought you liked me angry," you answer before there's the wrap of fingers against your wrist, yanking you to a halt before Zoro steps forward, crowding you against a nearby wall.
"I do," he says, "but not at me. What's your problem, anyways?"
You stare. Zoro has changed in dozens of ways since you'd last seen him before now, in ways you're still learning ㅡ but you've never had a man be so absolutely, frustratingly oblivious to his own involvement in the careful eggshell dance two of you have had since your joining of the crew. 
"My problem?" You echo, reaching to fist a hand into his shirt. "My problem is you, Roronoa Zoro."
And then you yank, hard enough to send him forward so you can kiss him. It's uncoordinated and rough ㅡ but that hardly matters when he's crowding you further as he responds.
It'd the bump of his hand against your side that pulls you from the needy haze as you hiss against his mouth, brought back to the current situation. "Don't kill me, asshole."
"I'm not killing you," he huffs, "though that's tempting since you're such a pain in the ass." He pauses. "But you're my pain in the ass, I guess."
"Fine by me." You wiggle free of him, reaching to grab his hand. "Now let's get back to the ship before I pass out because if I left it to you, we'll be here forever."
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stevespookington · 1 year
Text
role reversal au part 2! (part 1)
“What the hell!” Eddie shouted, pointing past Dustin at the TV screen. 
Dustin winced and raised his hands slowly, “Eddie, hey, uh… you want to come in and sit down?”
“Yes! We have a couch in the break room, how about you come sit down?” Robin chimed in from over Dustin’s shoulder. 
Eddie’s gaze darted rapidly from between the TV screen and the three of them standing there, Dustin’s hands were still outstretched in what probably was meant to be a calming manner. 
It was not a calming manner. 
“Okay, Dustin. Quick question, why should I stay here and more likely than you get involved with that?” Eddie paused to gesture at the TV screen, hand shaking. “When I could, instead, not?”
Dustin winced again and exchanged looks with the other two. He looked back at Eddie and let out a sigh, “Because it’s probably already too late, Eddie.”
“Dustin you know I am excellent at running away, it’s never too late.” Eddie couldn’t stop his hands from shaking. Steve fucking Harrington not only was at his drug stash this morning but he was also most likely the top suspect in a murder case.
“Eddie…” Dustin started, but paused when Robin put a hand on his shoulder. 
She looked over at him and Eddie froze, for Robin wasn’t just looking at him, but was looking into him. Like seeing like. “Hunt the freak.” Robin said quietly. 
Oh. Shit. 
Eddie swallowed shakily. Any reason to go after those who were different, Harrington might be the top suspect right now, but that didn’t mean it would stay that way. “That couch is sounding pretty good after all.”
Robin gestured to the back room before she crossed to lock the store door, flipping the sign to closed with a sigh. Eddie followed them blindly back into the break room, still not processing what was happening. Hunt the freak, played in a loop in his head. He sank down on the couch and buried his head in his hands, what the hell happened. 
Eddie looked up at the others, Robin was perched on a chair while Dustin had claimed the other end of the couch. The redhead leaned against a patch of wall, anxiety on every line of her posture. Max? Yeah, Max sounded right. Eddie paused, he had forgotten a very important detail, “Who died?”
Dustin winced again, before he exchanged a look with Max. “Max and I think it was most likely Chrissy Cunningham. We biked by Steve’s house before coming here and it was a mess, police everywhere. We, uh, saw someone get carried out and then we came here.”
Eddie froze. 
“She was pretty messed up yesterday, I ran into her in the bathroom at school and she did not look good.” Max continued before rubbing at her head, brow furrowed. 
Well shit. Eddie was supposed to have picked up Chrissy after the game yesterday. He had gotten out of Hellfire and she wasn’t there, but that wasn’t surprising, people bailed on buying all the time. He figured she had just got swept up after the game and gone to some after party. But not this…
He didn’t think she would have gotten murdered… Maybe if he had wrapped up the session sooner. Maybe if he had looked around more or had just given her weed after lunch instead of promising something harder. 
Eddie swallowed and tried to fight back the guilt swarming him. What fucking if. “Oh, well. Shit. Harrington did that? I thought you said he was okay now, Dustin? Not, uh, a murderer…”
“He’s not!” Dustin shouted, indignation showing in every line of his body before he repeated more softly, “He’s not.” 
Robin placed a hand on Dustin’s shoulder, “Eddie, there’s some weird shit that goes on in Hawkins, weirder stuff than you have seen before. The kind of weird shit involving monsters, but right now what we need to know is what you know and what Steve told you. I can promise you, Steve did not murder Chrissy Cunningham. I know Steve was a jerk back in school, but I swear to you, he has changed. And even back then, he was not going around murdering people.” She leveled him with a clear look, no bullshit, and continued. “Please tell us what you know.”
Eddie desperately wanted to know what shit they had gone through together that Robin Buckley, band geek, was so unwaveringly defending Steve Harrington. He also really did not want to find out first hand, but from the looks that all three of them were leveling at him, Eddie thought he might already be involved in their shit. “Oh, well. She wanted to buy some…” Eddie paused and glanced at Max and Dustin. “Stuff from me yesterday, but she didn’t show up after the game so I went about my night.” Eddie paused and looked down at his feet, hands clenched in his jeans, he had just left. He thought it was alright and so he just left. 
Dustin chimed in, “Wait, Steve was supposed to give me home after Hellfire yesterday… I thought his date had just gone really well, but maybe he ran into Chrissy there? Or something?”
Robin scoffed, “His date most likely did not go well, that dingus doesn’t know what the hell he wants.” Robin stopped herself before she could continue, her brief laughter at Steve’s date cut off as her face fell. “But I can mock him later, more important things now. Eddie what happened next?”
“Uh, well I this morning I went out to Reefer Rick’s place, I was supposed to drop off some cash and pick up some stuff. And out of one of the boats, out jumps Harrington. He looked really fucked up, not physically, just mentally really bad off. And well, I guess dead bodies would do that… he uh, roughed me up a bit. Well, just startled, I think? He didn’t actually hit me or anything, but then he paid me to come here and get a message to you all. Code Red?”
Eddie stopped as the others all inhaled suddenly, the anxiety in the room rocketing up. The three of them exchanged looks and Dustin cursed under his breath. 
Eddie hazarded a guess, “Code Red is bad?”
“Code Red is very bad.” Max said with a jerky nod.
That very much did not sound good and Eddie knew what he was good at, running away. “Well, that sounds, not great. I think it is time for me to be heading home…”
Robin winced and cleared her throat, “Uh, not a good plan. Sorry. But you are probably safer with us for one thing, from what I understand, although I have only really been through this once, things tend to get pretty gruesome after Code Red is called. But also, they are probably… well they are probably going to have you on the suspect list pretty soon.”
Eddie blinked in disbelief and shot Robin a flat look. “What.”
“Uh, the whole ‘freak’ thing?” Robin winced again, “But even without that, Steve hangs out with basically two people. Me and Dustin. I do band, but what does Dustin do…” She trailed off meaningfully. 
Eddie stared blankly at Robin as she made small hand gestures before it finally clicked. Shit. Dustin was in Hellfire, they were going to think that Steve was tied up with something with Eddie. 
Dustin stood up and moved in front of Eddie, a pleading look on his face. “Eddie, we can explain more on the ride there, but I need you to trust me. You are not going to escape suspicion on this and even without all of the stupid people in this town, the implications of Code Red means you probably are still in danger.”
Eddie was very good at running, thank you very much Dustin Henderson. But also… he hadn’t gone looking for Chrissy and maybe he could have saved her from whatever this Code Red worthy thing was. A monster by the sounds of what Robin had said earlier? It sure as hell sounded like he was already going to be a suspect in this mess.
And maybe he could actually save someone this time. Maybe he could help.
He would much rather run away from this whole mess, but it sounded like it was too late.
Towards danger it was instead.
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thecuriousquest · 5 months
Note
Yandere Levi drags the reader to his room to punish her after she tried to escape. She is kicking and screaming the entire time because she knows whats coming. For starters, he beats her up a little, but then he wanted to spice things up so he roughly face fucks her. But that still wasn't enough so he decides to punish her with really rough anal.
A Rough Punishment
Tag List: @issamomma @repostingmyfavs @chickennugnugnug
Warnings: Yandere themes, NSFW, non con, overstimulation, oral sex, anal sex, spanking, whipping threats, nipple and clit stimulation, crying kink, graphic depictions of a beating, Levi punches reader, slapping, hair pulling, Master/Pet play, male dominant/female submissive
Master List here.
—————————————————————————
It was so difficult getting past him. It was even harder sneaking over to the stables. You needed a horse for your escape. You knew better than to go on foot. It would be a lot faster for you to ride rather than walk.
As you prepare to saddle the beast, a hand slaps down on your shoulder, spinning you around. You didn’t even hear your captain sneak up on you.
“L-Levi…”
“Going somewhere, cadet?”
Well, you’re not going anywhere now!
Your lack of response only serves to annoy him even further, and he pinches your ear in a harsh manner. He drags you all the way back to his quarters like a bratty child, as if you are some kid who just threw a tantrum.
You had an actual reason to leave, the reason being him! You wanted to escape this hell he trapped you in. He punishes you, forces you to sit at his feet while he does paperwork, rapes you, makes you touch yourself while he watches. He even goes as far as bathing you every night for some extra quality time.
It had gotten to a point where you cracked and just couldn’t take it anymore. You wanted to leave, needed to get out. A sob rises in your throat as he shoves you face down on the bed.
A sharp spank to your bottom releases that pent up cry, and you squirm under his heavy grip. You reach for the edge of the bed, your arms spread in front of you. Gripping the edge, you try to pull yourself forward, away from his punishing smacks.
Levi laughs at you, actually laughs. He grabs you by the ankle, pulling you back into place, turning you over so that he can look into your fearful eyes.
Your gleaming and tear-filled E/C orbs are mesmerizing to him. The trepidation which casts a delightful shimmer in them make him rock hard. He can’t help but roughly grab you by your clothes, tearing them off of you with the characteristics of a beast. Your shirt flies onto the floor in a tattered heap; your pants following shortly after. Your underwear, scraps of lace and cotton to him, rip quite easily under his strong hands. You whimper and writhe beneath him, but once he has you naked, he pins you down with his body.
Levi crawls over you, hands squeezing the dough of your thighs, feeling you with calloused palms. No, it’s not enough. He needs…he needs to…
His fist cocks back, flying into your rips. A startled cry rips from your core, your body jolting from the impact. He slaps you across the face for being to loud, but he likes how loud you’re being. He wants to hear your screams even more. He wants you to wail and cry, beg for his mercy.
Give him a fucking reason to punish you even further.
The captain’s hand clasps around your throat like a necklace. He presses down on the sides of your throat. It makes you feel light, fatigued. You’re not able to breathe properly. Body thrashing beneath him, your hips try to buck him up and forward, anything to get him off of you.
He’s anchored on top of you quite nicely. No, he’s not going anywhere. This man knows what he’s doing, knows how to effectively pin you down. Knows how to force your submission.
The soldier’s hands come down on top of you rapidly, hit after hit. It feels relentless. He kneels on top of you, removing his own shirt.
He’s an attractive man, but you know what kind of monster lies beneath his flesh, and that monster is ungodly.
You turn your head away from him, to disassociate, to go anywhere but where you are right now. To drift and drift far away, but he doesn’t grant you such pleasantries.
No, this is a punishment, and you’ll suffer through it.
He grips your jaw, squeezing down on the lining of your teeth to force you to open up. You don’t want to, you’re not sure what he’s going to make you do, but the pressure is too great.
He pinches your nose with his free hand, and you can’t help but part your lips to gulp down air.
Taking full advantage of your vulnerable mouth, Levi spits directly onto your tongue, filling your cavern with saliva which isn’t yours. It makes you inwardly cringe, and you’re forced to swallow it down.
You whimper as he shucks off the rest of his clothes. He watches you out of the corner of his eye, making sure you don’t try anything. Grabbing you by your H/C tresses, he pulls you over to him, forcing you to lie down on your side while he stands by the edge of the bed.
“Open up. Come on, open up like a good pet. There we go,” he guides his cock into your mouth.
His dark pubes scrape against your nose and cheeks. The musk infiltrating your nostrils. You try to relax your throat, take him like he’s trained you. You don’t dare bite down. The last time you did, he got out his belt and whipped you until you sobbed yourself to sleep.
“That’s a good little whore, taking your master’s cock with grace. Did you just want some extra attention? Is that why you tried to steal a horse and run away?”
His grip tightens in your locks.
You scream “no” around his cock, but you’re efficiently gagged. All it sounds like to him is you being whiny and noisy.
His palm cracks down on your naked bottom again, reviving the sting from earlier. You beg with his dick in your mouth, so far down your throat for anyone to be able to understand you.
Oh, the vibrations ringing around his length cause him to throw his head back in a state of fucking bliss. His thighs tense up, the muscles in his arms clench. He pushes the back of your head further and further into his base.
Tears sting your eyes, rolling from your lashes. You place your hands on his thighs, trying to push back, to relieve your throat of the strangling sensation.
He pulls back just far enough so that he’s out of your throat but still on your tongue before thrusting back down. In and out, he pushes your nose into his scruffy hair.
Your nose clogs from all of the crying, and you feel a pounding headache from the suffocation. Your lips meet his base, yet he still tries to push himself further and further down your throat. You gag and go limp, resigning yourself to his treatment.
Just as you think you might pass out, he finally shoots a load down your throat. Come coating the inside of your mouth as he pulls himself free of your slick lips.
You gag, swallowing it all, and then gasp for air. You balk, rolling over away from him as he stands there with his hands on the bed, one on a pillow and the other on the mattress. He pants heavily from the orgasm.
It was a lot of come.
You curl up into a ball and cry, clutching your throat with your hand, massaging it to feel better.
He doesn’t let you have any time to yourself. He puts one knee on the bed, leaning over you. Levi picks you up, plopping you down in front of him on the bed. Grabbing your hip, he tries to roll you over onto your stomach.
You groan, shaking your head, a messy little thing of rebellion.
That’s okay. He’ll break you of that real quick.
“You were so bad. Too bad to just discipline with a blow job.”
“I’ve learned!” you croak with humiliation.
“I’ll decide that.”
He kneels over your body, partly straddling you as you lie face down. You grab a pillow, needing something to scream into when he starts fucking you.
He needs more, needs more of you right now. He nestles himself between your cheeks, lining up perfectly with your little hole. He smirks when he hears your soft cries into the pillow.
No warning was given before he impales you with his cock. It explodes right into you, jamming your insides. You lift your head with a guttural wail.
“Get out! Levi, please, out! Doesn’t feel good!” Your feet kick against the bed as your nails dig into your palms.
You need a sensation to distract you from the pain. Anything. You would rather take a whipping over this.
You feel his breath on your ear, heavy panting against the shell. “You’re such a fucking slut. Just a fucking bitch for her master. That’s all. It’s all you’ll ever be good for. Fucking brat thinking you can get away with everything.”
His hands reach underneath you. One pawing at your bare chest, the other rubbing at your sensitive pearl between your legs. His ministrations paired with the pain in your bottom short circuit your brain.
You go blank with the stimulation overload, your mind not knowing which sensation to process first. Does it feel good? Bad? Is it blissful or painful? You can’t tell right now as he fucks into your ass, hips thrusting harder than when he made you deep throat him.
He tears you up inside, rubbing against your tight walls, one’s that are even tighter than your pussy. He pinches your nipples, rolling them between his fingers, making you gasp.
It takes you a while to notice your hips rutting into the bed as his fingers speed up around your bead of pleasure. Your clit happily buzzing for him.
“Do you really think your master doesn’t know you by now? You think I don’t know when my little pet is lying to me? Look at you. You’re such a cock hungry whore that you’ll take it in any hole.”
You come undone instantly from every single sensation he’s offering you. He laughs in your ear as he hears your tiny whimpers from coming. His fingers plunge into your sopping pussy, discovering just how truly wet you are. He removes them from between your legs, and then you find his fingers pressed against your mouth.
A particularly jarring buck of his hips has you opening up once again for him. Levi slides his fingers in past your teeth, right on your tongue. He groans for you to suck on them. You taste yourself on the pads of his digits. You swallow your own cream as you squirm beneath his body.
With his fingers still in your mouth, he ruts into you, squeezing your asscheek with his other hand. He finally goes still on top of you, his weight feeling heavy against your back as he lies there.
Your captain rolls over onto his pillow next to you, folding his hands over his chiseled stomach. He looks up at the ceiling in deep thought, not even sparing your miserable state so much as a glance.
“Captain?”
“Do I really have to teach you a separate lesson on manners, pet?”
Upset, you sigh through your nose. “Master?”
Turning his head to you, he regards you with a softened expression. “What is it?”
“Am I still in trouble?”
“Your punishment is over with. Get some rest. I’m sure you’ll need it.”
You nod and bury your face into the pillows.
“Oh, one more thing. Try to leave and steal a horse again, and I’ll have you tied to the whipping post and beaten in front of the entire squadron. I’m sure you wouldn’t want that.”
You shake your head. You really, really don’t want that.
He turns over on his side towards you, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.
“So, what do you say to your master for being so merciful?”
Merciful? As if beating you and raping your throat and ass is merciful. As if keeping you under his thumb is merciful. As if any of this is merciful!
A small droplet gathers in the corners of your eyes, spilling over as the last of your pride slips away from you.
“Thank you, Master.”
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yanderemommabean · 1 year
Note
Southern yandere being raised on those good morals and Christian values until they meet reader. Being the apple of the towns eye and everyone’s favorite golden boy turned into a savage mess when anyone dares to mess with his darling! Perverted once he see’s reader in revealing clothes for the summer (to beat that southern heat!). Suddenly he has to pray more often since only not so sacred thoughts come to mind when he thinks of you (which is ALL the time). The polite manners being CRANKED UP when they are in ur vicinity. The oh so bold flirting! BEING COURTED by the most desired guy in TOWN. And no one would help u girl, u think THE (his name) would bother stalking YOU? How pretentious. Knows how to court a lady but if you keep on playing hard to get he’ll just have to show you he’s the BEST and ONLY option for you.
“Well hello there August!” You say with a sweet smile, fanning yourself by tugging at your shirt as sweat seeps into the fabric. “What brings you by? Needing more chicken eggs?” you ask, used to the man asking for one or more things he could buy from you or help you out with. Always so courteous and gentlemen like, even when you insist he doesn’t have to be. 
It’s sweet, you’ll admit. He’s been trying his best to be sweet and kind to you, even the town is beginning to think you’re all he worries about anymore. His duties often get neglected when you’re on his mind, which seems to be every hour of the day. 
“No, no, I was just comin by to see why you’re working in heat like this. You could get killed if you aint careful y’know? Jesse nearly had a heat stroke a few days ago ‘cause he thought he could handle the stables all by himself” 
You snort, dusting your hands off on your jeans “Well, I ain’t Jesse. Jesse needs to learn a thing or two about asking for help when he needs it too, I learned that lesson the hard way”. August laughs at that, tipping his hat as he does so. “Yeah, boy aint the brightest. I’ll give you that. You wouldn’t mind taking a break for sweet tea or anything would ya? I’d love to waste your time for a bit”. 
Nodding, you begin to walk into your house, heading to the sink to wash your hands from the dirt and muck covering them from the chores. “I’ll make ya a glass in just a sec, let me get a bit cleaned up. You get your things done today? Pastor told me to yell at you a bit if you lagged behind one more time. Think he meant it too, ‘is face was redder than hell”. 
August comes up from behind, wrapping his arms around you as you stand at the sink. Your face dusts pink as he lays his head on your shoulder, his breath right on your ear as he gruffly says “Don’t worry about what he says. I know what I’m doing, and how I’m gonna do it. Anyone gives you more trouble you come to me alright?” 
The sudden playful mood felt more tense, his arms squeezing you tight against him as your voice struggled to come out. “You’re like a hen, I swear. I'm not some dainty little belle, I can tell a pastor off if I need to. Now sit down, I’ll make you a glass”. 
You two sit and chat for a while, August giving you stares that you couldn’t quite read from time to time as you mention how your life here was going. He was a real sweetheart, a man of manners and good values, it’s no wonder the whole town loves him. But there's something there, stirring and growing, you just don’t know it yet. 
It’s a dark, unleashed beast of a thing for sure. 
-------------
Six months have passed since you’ve moved down here, and the winter seems awfully brutal. Your house is refusing to stay warm lately, and as much as you hate to admit it, you’re terrible with a wood cutting axe. Never could get the aim right. 
As if on cue, the towns most beloved bachelor comes driving into your yard in his truck, practically leaping out as he runs to you with a worried and dare you say frustrated appearance. “What on earth has gotten into you? Put me down!” you hollered, being lifted up over his shoulder with ease as he carries you inside without so much as a hello. 
“Me? What’s gotten into you? It’s below freezing and you’re out there trying to cut wet wood that won’t burn! You’re gonna get frost bite, and momma won’t let me hear the end of it if I let you get hurt!” 
“For your information I was doing just fine!” you scold, being dropped down gently onto your couch as he stands over you, arms crossed over his chest. “...I ain’t moving until you promise me you won’t go back out there in weather like this” 
“Unfair game to me. Seeing as alls I gotta do is tickle you in the right spot to get you out of my way” 
“Dangerous game to play to me, seeing as your touch would do a bit more than tickle me” he says with a seductive tint to his voice, his face coming down to meet yours as you become more flustered “A touch from a sexy thing like you, wouldn’t make me move out of the way. It’d make me pick you up and show you how I wanna touch you too” 
You both stay there for a minute, your eyes becoming playful and your tone more flirty as you lean closer, daring to kiss his lips. “Hmm. And what would your momma think if something happened before marriage?” 
“Who says I can’t make you say my name without breaking that rule?” 
“Oh now you’re just being a mean old flirt. Is this your way of warming me up? Cause as much as I like it, I do need to get work done” 
August doesn’t budge. If anything, he seems determined to tower over you like this, keeping you in place. “I think you’d be better off at my house for a few days. Especially since the holidays are coming up and the weather is only gonna get worse” he says as if he didn’t just act like he would go a few rounds in the bedroom with you. 
“We’ve talked about this-” 
“I know. You’re worried about the animals and such. Never said I wouldn’t let you come by to do your stuff, I just think you need a place with actual heat since this place is clearly in need of more repair than we thought. It ain’t gotta be a month or nothing, just til we get it fixed” 
You worry your lip, unsure and not exactly comfortable with just staying a few nights at his house. “The town will think we’re being a bit-” 
“The town also thinks aunt Susie's pie is the best, but they ain’t right in that regard either” he cuts you off, taking your cold hand and kissing your fingertips softly “I won’t do nothing, I promise. I’ll even let the church and every gossiper in town have a piece of my mind if they start making you upset. Just please, let me keep you warm. It’ll break my heart if I know you’re suffering like this any longer” 
His eyes are so sweet as they plead, and how he holds and warms your hands makes this deal all the more enticing. What can you say? You really have no other choice, and you’re so lucky to have him here for you like this. “A-alright, August. Just until we figure out why my heat aint working. No more than that” 
Oh, just knowing you’d come willingly at all is more than he could’ve asked for. He hates having to force his hand in these situations, but it’s needed! That’s why he had to ruin your heating system, to show you that he’d be the better option in the long run and he could get you out of that shithole house faster. 
But he won’t tell his little secret. The plan is to get you in his home, then in his bed, and in his arms. Town can think whatever they want, but no one would suspect him of sabotage and stalking. He plays his role very well, knows how to manipulate anyone who tries and ruin his chance with you. If they push too hard for you to leave, he might just stage another accident or two. 
Whatever it takes to keep you with him and him only. 
((HI! I hope this didn’t go too off the rails, I really enjoyed it! I hope you did too! -Mommabean))
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adyophene · 8 days
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lucifer x husk is something i never knew i needed and as a multishipper im screaming
literally. king of hell x some alcoholic furry guy
i love them i need to know how they wouldve met, fallen for each other and started dating. and how much thatd piss alastor off
Ooh I am so happy other people are enjoying this pair as much as I am! I've gotten a few asks about my headcanons for them, and I am happy to blab on and on. Fair warning. This is gunna be a long and rambling essay.
I'm gunna put it all under a readmore, just cause I want to insert the art I've done of them so far, since I've been half-heartedly trying to tell a visual story through the doodles.
Okay. On we go!
How they met;
We did see them technically meet in the show, where they shared their singular canon piece of dialogue, which was just Husk saying 'hey'. And then in the finale where we see a literal split second moment of Lucifer holding Husk's arm.
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(also seeing the sweet looks huskerdust is giving each other here just makes me feel so delulu for writing this all, but crackships are silly by definition, so lets get back to the lucihusk) For me, what I imagined, is after the Hotel is finished its rebuilding, that is when Husk and Lucifer finally actually meet in a proper manner. I think Lucifer would be trying to make a good impression on all Charlie's friends at this point, endeared to all of them from their actions during the finale. Unfortunately, I think he is also the King of Bad First Impressions.
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[Note. I think at this point Lucifer wouldn't even remember Husk's name quite yet. I think he would call him 'Keekee' ( by accident) or 'Dusk' (confidently incorrect) or just be like "Hey!.... Uh... You?" until Charlie or Vaggie finally corrected him. ]
Husk, on the other hand, I feel like maybe wouldn't gel with Lucifer right away. Wouldn't hate him, but also maybe not be enamored with him right away. Same as Lucifer, maybe he would have sweetened on him a bit through the hotel's rebuilding, but I think they'd start out at very neutral feelings. Maybe a vague sense of 'He's okay, but I don't know if we will really get along.'
Despite this, Lucifer is persistent, and he's going to be everyone's (except maybe Al, unless they start getting along by s2) buddy. He'd start hanging around the bar and participate in the redemption exercises.
Now, we know Lucifer struggles with depression, and I think he would be trying real hard to mask anything going on during this time. They defeated Adam! They rebuilt the Hotel! He believes in Charlie's dream, and he's more involved with her life and other people than he has been for years.
His only issue being Husk sees right through it, both because Husk is perceptive, but also because even the King of Hell can't help but have a lonely night or two at the bar where he ends up venting about his divorce and subsequent lingering loneliness.
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[snapcube ref aside, )I really do think Husk would start to feel more positively toward Lucifer after Luci would drop the act somewhat. That they could bond over feeling both at their lowest of lows, while also being to admit that things seem to be getting better!
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This would be about the point that I imagine Lucifer developing more romantic feelings! Husk would be a bit less prickly, and Luci would just absolutely eat up any and all positive interactions they'd have. I like to picture a lot of little shows of care at the this point, like Husk memorizing what Lucifer likes and even making up 'fun' drinks just to try and cheer the guy up. And Lucifer would fun a fun game in trying to get the grumpy cat to smile, and just, lighting up himself any time he was successful.
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And that culminating into the two of them making each other laugh, with Alastor being an easy butt of the jokes, and a good way for Husk, himself, to finally get a chance to vent. I think Lucifer would be one of the only 'safe' options for Husk to do that with, in just so far as Al can't really threaten Lucifer, and Lucifer already sees Al as a bit of a manipulative bastard.
Falling for each other; At this point, Lucifer would start being a bit more caring toward Husk, though with that wonderful, oblivious flair of his. I don't think Lucifer himself would realize he'd have a crush up until he'd start feeling protective or jealous over Husk, and it would really throw him for a loop at first.
Because fake dating is one of my all-time favorite tropes, I have always had a idea for a fanfic (or comic) that I haven't gotten around to yet, based around Lilith coming back, and Lucifer panickily asking Husk to pretend to be his boyfriend, so he can appear well adjusted/completely over her. Of course the whole thing would backfire, as Lilith would see through it (as Lucifer wouldn't be as good of an actor as he'd think), and that Husk would end up kind of feeling hurt by the whole thing.
Husk, who'd go along with the plot with an eyeroll, would find himself seizing up through the whole fake date/encounter. Would find weird, sudden emotions bubbling up and absolutely hating it.
I don't think that man would think about the class difference between him and Lucifer up until someone would say something about it, maybe Lucifer himself trying to rationalize the (at this time still fake) relationship to Lilith. Now, Husk feels uneasy about the whole thing and ends up drinking heavily the whole night so he doesn't have to think about feelings. (Blitz and Stolas who? Ahaha. fuck.) Meanwhile, while the date would be fake, I think Lucifer would really rather like having Husk on his arm and feeling like he'd have a love-life again, while also not really getting why Husk's mood would be getting worse throughout the night. I think they'd still end up on good terms, but both of them would have their feelings in a jumble, and Husk would not like it. (he thinks he's lost the ability to love, after all)
I think somewhere at this point, as they are starting to develop feelings for one another, is when Lucifer finally starts really realizing how tied to Alastor Husk is, and he starts to make it everyone's problem. I do think Al and Lucifer would stay snarky at each other this whole time, but that it'd only get worse, as Al would poke back since he'd find Lu's over reactions funny.
I also think Al would be maybe the last person to realize anything romantic would be brewing between Lucifer and Husk, and he'd just think it'd be a purely platonic thing.
Beyond just bitching about Alastor, Lucifer would really be ramping up his attention towards Husk too. Fully in that 'puppylove/crush' stage, and trying his darndest to make Husk feel good and special. Husk would be resistant to it all, thinking it would just be Lucifer rebounding hard, and not wanting to get wrapped up in Morningstar family drama when he could happily (miserably) keep his head down and just keep drinking the days away.
But then Lucifer would find out about Husk's love of stage magic, and his history as a performer, and it'd be all over for the catman. It would become Luci's new pet project to rope Husk into some joyful self-expression, and after a song and dance number's worth of convincing, Husk would start to come around. I have to post all these images now cause- I drew them with the intention of mimicking a musical number! Husk starting off as a bit resistant before jumping in whole heartedly, and Lucifer overexcitedly dragging him along throughout the music number, hyping him up and just all around being smitten.
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And this is where Husk would start really falling. Getting swept up in indulging his favorite, least destructive hobby, and having someone who absolutely loves it to bond with. Especially when it would be over. When they would just settle down and talk, and laugh, and bond over what they love about performing. The spectacle, the audience, the love of the craft. Its about the comradery!!!
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@belladonazeppole wrote a wonderful series of fanfics based off these pictures, as well as the songs from 'The Greatest Showman' that really fit the ship! I would be remiss to not mention them here, because Bella and their fics are just wonderful!
How they started dating;
Now. Don't think just cause they both caught feelings for each other, that they'd immediately admit to it. No. I think both of them would drag their heels. I don't think Husk would admit to them at all, without some outside force effecting it. I think he'd stubbornly try to ignore the crush or drink it away, rather than let his heart become vulnerable to anymore damage.
Meanwhile, Lucifer would be struggling between his feelings for Husk and Lilith. (In the actual canon, I do think they might try to rekindle things, depending on what kind of person Lilith turns out to be, but I digress.) Part of him would be so swept up in a giddy kind of excitement, while the other would be set firmly in the camp of 'this is a bad idea, this won't work out, just look at what happened to your last relationship'. It wouldn't stop him from being outwardly more and more affectionate, but it would be weighing on him.
I do think Lucifer would end up being the one who would be thinking; "What am I doing. He'd never like me back." While Husk would be just sitting there (echoing what was said in the ask- sorry I went all wild and wrote this much about the ship dear god)- "I'm just some fucking furry alcoholic, what the fuck would the king of hell see in me??? Am I delusional? What the fuck is going on??" And I feel like this stage would go on for MONTHS and drive everyone else nuts. It would be clear to everyone (except Alastor, who again, would be just this meme
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Though that wouldn't stop him from getting a little pissy about it) And then it would all come to a head during something benign, like a board game night. There would be flirting, there would be jealousy, there would be arguing, and then finally, loudly and with a lot of feeling, Lucifer would shout his way through asking Husk out on a date. A real Date. A capital 'D' date out on the town, dressed to the nines and a real good time. The board would be knocked over in the fray, game pieces raining down upon them while Husk would just stare blank faced, trying to process what just happened. An awkward half-minute would pass before he'd finally, trying to play it cool, shrug out a 'sure'.
How much it'd piss Alastor off;
In the aftermath, a radio static would just lowly grate everyone's ears as Alastor would be slowly coming to terms on how just annoying it would be to have his friend (/Unhealthy co-dependent pet friend possession??) romantically involved (ew) with the King of Hell (double ew)??? Then, either it would be something light hearted like 'he keeps trying to break them up but failing cause he hates interacting with romance' or a darker route where 'he keeps trying to manipulate them into breaking up by preying on all their worst insecurities in the relationship'.
And that, my friend, is all I have in mind so far for this delusional crackship au! There is more I could flesh out, of course, like Angel's role as a friend or potential third in the relationship, or what I imagine as Husk becoming like a stepdad to Charlie, but I've typed enough for the whole month. Hope any of that was coherent! I did not bother to edit or proof read it. Just pure stream of consciousness.
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