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blkkizzat · 8 months

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WFH!Nanami

Work From Home Nanami = best house husband

a/n: lol this is nanami brainrot while I wait for my Toji fic to get beta'd so I know how dog it is. ETA: FYI, this is a semi-repost of a self-ship collab with a now deactivated account. I repurposed my selfship part to reader and expanded to WFH. cw: smut (pussy pounding, gagging on CAWK) fluff, nanami being the perf husband and male specimen per usual wc: 1.6k

WFH!Nanami doesn’t have to worry about waking up early to go into the office but he still rises with the sun to get his day started and do his favorite thing, which is to spoil you. Waking you up with gentle kisses, placing a hot espresso by the bedside and being your personal snooze button when you tell him 5 more minutes (he is so punctual it will be 5 mins on the dot).

You will still likely end up strolling into the office late regardless though because knowing you, you can’t start your day until you’re squirting all over daddy. But this is Nanami, he is nothing if not efficient so your early morning romp is definitely in the shower where he can clean you up after in order to get you out of the door sooner, your breakfast is already packed to-go.

WFH!Nanami love language is acts of service. You never stress about what to do for lunch either because there’s always a Michelin star worthy bento waiting for you next to your keys before you leave for the day.

In fact, what Nanami doesn’t know is that his bento is famous not only around your office, as your envious coworkers gather round to see what your perfect husband has prepared for you today, but also on TikTok. The ‘KentosBentos’ TikTok account you made has over 350K followers who not only watch for the mouth watering yet nutritious bentos but to also hear you gush over the cute little notes your hubby leaves for you.

Your top video has over 2.5 million likes and thousands of swooning women in the comments when WFH!Nanami made you an extra special lobster bento for your birthday and left you the note: ‘In all the world there is no love for me if I don’t have yours. Happy Birthday to my lovely wife, whose smile shines bigger and all the more brighter than the sun, moon and stars.’

Continuing with acts of service WFH!Nanami always has an equally delicious dinner ready for you when you get home. On days you work overtime and arrive home late, there's always a warm bubble bath waiting for you first. You love to rest with your back laid against Nanami’s utterly ripped torso in the tub while his thick arms envelope you. Relaxing into the safety of WFH!Nanami’s hold, your doting hubby kisses your temple and gives your keyboard fatigued hands a delicate massage. Nanami is nothing but a patient yet active listener while you recount your stressful day at work.

On days when you both get the opportunity to work from home you email WFH!Nanami a meeting invite to block off his calendar for 30 min during lunch. The invite is always titled ‘Ken and Barbie’s Lunch Meeting’. The location? ‘Pound Town’ The time? Noon, sharp!

Of course WFH!Nanami never actually schedules it on his work calendar lest his boss sees the meeting. (Gojo would never let him hear the end of it). As a result, since he never actually has the time officially blocked off, on some rare occasions he does actually get booked for a real lunch meeting at Noon that he cannot reschedule.

Meeting or no meeting though you are determined to keep your lunchtime dick appointment with WFH!Nanami. A noon dicking is a noon dicking and it’s a non-negotiable for you as you don’t often get to stay home from work!

WFH!Nanami is focused and poised during his camera-on meetings with his team. Therefore he doesn’t hear you open his office door. Nor does he see you as you drop to the floor with feline grace, hips swaying seductively as you crawl right under his desk. In fact, Nanami does not notice you at all until your soft hands grip his thick powerful thighs and you’re sliding your body up between his legs. Never faltering on-camera, WFH!Nanami’s stiffened jaw and tensed shoulders are the only tell-signs of you palming his rapidly hardening cock under the desk.

WFH!Nanami who tests the absolute limits of the stress ball he keeps handy (usually for tough negotiations) when he feels you press your hot mouth on the fabric covering his dick. You know your stoic husband won't ever outwardly falter when on the clock but you know inside he is a mess. That much is clear to you by the girth bulge straining against his tan fitted slacks.

WFH!Nanami who knows you are upset about him working through your ‘lunch meeting’, but wishes you wouldn’t torture him like this while he’s on the clock. He can tell you are enjoying yourself though as your sinful little tongue drags tiny kitten licks over the hard bulge in his pants. Soon though you are pawing at his zipper and pulling his girthy cock free through the hole, not even bothering to undo his belt. Taking him fully into your mouth, WFH!Nanami bites his inner cheek, when his boss Gojo makes a comment on how he looks more tense than usual when he should be thrilled after closing the biggest deal of the year.

WFH!Nanami who takes a long moment to deeply clear his throat before he calmly relays to Gojo that he is very pleased with the win but already thinking of the next big acquisition for their company. Yet Nanami’s voice hitches ever so slightly when your pink stiletto nails dig into his muscular thighs. It fools the rest of the team but Gojo merely raises a brow before cheerily moving on to the next subject.

WFH!Nanami spares a look downward at you once the work conversation has shifted to see you gazing up at his mouth full of his cock. You wear an angelic look as if he can’t tell the hand that left his thigh and is now slotted between your own isn’t furiously rubbing at your clit. He knows you are pleased at finally drawing a reaction, even a small one, from him while on the clock.

WFH!Nanami whose eyes twitch when he’s closing the call he sees his boss Gojo’s knowing smile and hears the start of the question, “So Nanamin… is Y/N, working from home to–”

WFH!Nanami doesn’t stay to hear the end of the question, quickly exiting the call and ignoring the message pings full of raunchy emojis he receives from Gojo.

WFH!Nanamiwho is still seated grabs you by your hair and ruthlessly face fucks you as soon as his camera turns off. He forces you swallow all eight and a half inches of him as you gag and slobber around his girth. Your jaw begins to ache but your eyes still roll back into your head with pleasure and you go limp in his grasp. You are willingly allowing your loving husband to turn your throat into his personal cocksleeve as you rub your cunt up against his leg, so close to cumming from the chafing of his slacks against your cunt.

Frustrated and annoyed it isn’t long before WFH!Nanami cums himself. His leg you are riding jerks up into you giving you the extra push you need as you moan around his cock and cream on his leg leaving a wet spot. WFH!Nanami has you choking down his thick seed. His cum and your drool dribble down the sides of your face when he finally slides out of the warm cavern of your throat cunny, leaving you panting as you try to catch your breath.

WFH!Nanami wordlessly wipes your face with the tissues he keeps on his desk and promptly ushers you out of this office, locking the door behind you. You aren’t upset though as you know what's in store for you once his work day is over. The locked door is more to keep him IN, than keep you OUT. Nanami would have to take the rest of the day off if he were to properly discipline you now. You being forced to wait and wonder how long he would take to finish his work was part of the punishment anyway.

You know WFH!Nanami is ready to administer your punishment once he calls you out by your FULL government name “Y/N Nanami!” Tonight is different and there is no dinner nor warm bath for you. Just a tired Nanami, weary of his bosses teasing and ready to take out all his frustrations on his wife’s naughty little cunt.

Your cunt in question nearly starts voguing in anticipation as heat pools between your legs once you are called into the bedroom. You already know what time it is once you see WFH!Nanami loosen his tie and take off his belt slowly while sternly saying your name once more.

The belt and tie?

Oh, the belt is used to tie your arms behind you and the tie is now a gag, for having such a filthy cock-loving little mouth he will tell you. It’s not long after that until you are face down, ass up getting pounded into the mattress as WFH!Nanami nearly cracks the headboard with the force he is using to thrust into you. Your cries of “K-Kento!” are muffled into the makeshift gag when a firm slap causes your ass to ripple more aggressively against his pelvis.

Nanami growls deeply into your ear.

“Welcome to Pound Town, Barbie.”

Any muffled cries for mercy fall on deaf ears as WFH!Nanami is too focused on his retribution for your earlier antics as he continues to wreck your pussy from behind. His heavy balls smack against your clit and your sloppy cunt echos vulgar squelches that bounce off your bedroom walls and erotically ring in your ears. The hand pressing your head further into the pillow beneath you is the same hand Nanami wears his wedding band on. It glimmers brightly even in the dimly lit room.

WFH!Nanami loves seeing his ring and remembering his vows in the moment. 💖

©blkkizzat 2024. do not steal works or graphics, do not translate.

a/n: Nanami brainrot overload (i wfh! lord god when is it my turn, bring me a nanami i BEG) and day 18 without adhd meds lol, finally finished something though. Nerd!Geto and The Nursery ft. Toji is soon I promise!

reblog to get your on WFH!Nanami but comments and likes are always appreciated!

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jen-with-a-pen · 1 month

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(In Your) Arms Tonight - 1/2

summary: Hypothesis: If he (Wade) turns off the AC, then they (Wade and Logan) will have no choice but to strip naked and end up sticky and gross and hard together!

That's what he was taught in middle school, right?

pairing: Logan Howlett x Wade Wilson / Worst Wolverine x Deadpool

word count: 1.3k

warnings: MDNI 18+, Wade's POV-ish, blood mention, knife mention, beer mention, Wade's fuckin horny and thirsty y'all, pining, cursing, claws, Wade is looking ✨respectively✨, crude humor and language, slight Deadpool and Wolverine spoilers, no smut (yet, sorry)

a/n: AUGH DONT LOOK AT ME (actually please do I cannot hold this in any longer.) currently part one of two parts. posting the first one now as I am currently traveling for work and won't be back until beginning of September and then part two will be out when i either A. Get home or B. Finish it and format it in between running around like a chicken with my head cut off. Please be patient with me! I will not tolerate "whEreS PaRt Two?¿??" when I literally just told you. Hope y'all enjoy one of the many products of my brain rot. More to come in due time ✨

Not beta'd. Written on my phone and edited via gdocs. Post formatted on mobile because I don't wanna use my work computer lmao

Please let me know if there are any spelling or grammar mistakes!

If I've missed any tags, PLEASE let me know!

gif by @tomshiddles | dividers by @saradika-graphics | warning banner by me ❤️

My AO3 | My Masterlist

Read this fic HERE on AO3

❤️ Reblogs and comments are appreciated, as always ❤️

PART ONE | PART TWO

The abs are great. More than great, actually. In fact, they're all Wade thinks, dreams, and fantasizes about. All day, everyday, non-fucking-stop. The moment replays over and over in his fucked up noodle brain like a scratched record. He knows muscle memory is a thing, but what about salivatory memory?

Christ. He's gotta get a grip instead of getting hard.

But what about when Logan isn't flexing hard enough to rip his goddamn suit off?

Wade notices Logan becoming more relaxed around the apartment as the days pass. Adjusting to his new life, coming out of the bedroom earlier than he has to on days when he gets a turn to sleep on a real bed. It's Sofa City most of the time– which he really doesn't mind, he almost prefers it most of the time (since it's in clear sight of the front door) but Wade more often than not likes to insist they share his 'much-too-big-for-lil-old-me' twin XL mattress that's seen more stains than sex in the last year alone.

Logan's compromise is he'll take the bed and Wade the couch half the time. Alone. They're still working on the negotiations of said compromise, but the jury– Blind Al– is still out on recess.

Once he's more settled in, Logan learns that it's okay to kick off his boots and put his feet up. It's not often, but enough that Wade silently wishes he'd rest those big meaty calves on his lap instead. He's been needing a new weighted blanket and Adamantium-coated tibias and hairy legs are so in right now.

Logan doesn't know it, but Wade secretly plays 'ohmygodhetotallylookedatme' whenever he so much as catches a glimpse of Wade oggling at him in his peripherals. Wade can't help it when Broody and the Beast's ribbed white muscle shirt pulls taut against those deliciously plump pecs that he silently prays it'll burst off again. Or he'll rip it off. Or Logan will rip it off. For him.

A boy can dream.

It's especially hard to win at 'OMGHTLAM' when Logan accessorizes– AKA throwing on whatever flannel is in rotation out of the several he finds at the thrift store a few blocks over. Wade feels his throat tighten like his jeans do when Logan wears the forest green one. Really brings out his eyes.

And smile. And lips. And–

It's still summer, so on the hotter days, when sweat glistens on his brow and Wade desperately wishes to be the back of Logan's hand, the tank top comes off. All Logan's sweaty, gloriously muscular body has on is a wonderfully worn-in pair of jeans with the hem of black briefs poking out behind the denim waist.

Do they have AC? Yes. Because Wade would have to plan a funeral for Al if they didn't.

But when she's out and about, he likes to turn it off and let the New York heat wave run its course. Sure, it leaves him sticky and gross, but he'd rather be sticky and gross and hard when he can help it.

Luckily, Blind Al is gone for the whole weekend. Some girls trip or a drug mule job. Same difference.

Hypothesis: If he (Wade) turns off the AC, then they (Wade and Logan) will have no choice but to strip naked and end up sticky and gross and hard together!

That's what he was taught in middle school, right?

With the push of a button and a sprinkle of patience, Logan is splayed out on the couch in a matter of hours with a lukewarm beer in hand while fighting his eyelids from dozing off to some random war documentary. Sweat beads on his temples and there's a slight sheen to his skin from his biceps to the lower V pointing down to between his thighs. He chuckles every so often, mumbling things to himself between swigs of beer and shaking his head when the narrator gets something 'wrong.'

Wade busies himself in the kitchen but his eyes are permanently glued to his roommate. He doesn’t miss the way Logan's stomach rises and falls gently, the rock-hard six pack softening into rolling hills of muscle with a layer of dark hair covering as much surface area as immortal-like hormones will allow. Grown out beard, chops, and messy hair really throw the whole look together; very 2000s, if you ask Wade. His pecs look just as soft as a pair of titties, if not softer, and Wade knows it. He'd do anything to lay his perfect little head on Logan's chest. Maybe lick it too, if he's a good boy.

Logan perks up suddenly from the couch.

Oh God did he say that out loud?

"Wade?"

Wade doesn't hear him. Can't hear him. Half-refuses to hear him, honestly. Daydreaming takes up a whole lotta brain power and this show isn't running itself. Economy, budget cuts, unprecedented times. You know the shtick.

"Wade."

Nothing but a bead of drool comes out of Wade's mouth.

Suddenly, there's a crash right behind Wade's head and now he's awake. He whips around to the ale-spattered wall behind him and back to Logan, who's now standing with claws drawn and chest heaving.

Wade swears he's blushing.

Eyes wide and brow standing up straight like his good little soldier, Wade looks down at the counter before him to find a bloodbath of a scene: one hand's on a knife while the other spews blood all over the yellowed counter tops; there's remnants of a carrot that was finished five minutes ago, followed directly by remnants of fingers cut down to the last fucking knuckle and slice marks beginning down the back of his hand.

Wade holds up his spurting stump, gashed artery doing a spot-on impression of Ol' fucking Faithful.

"Oh. Huh. Thought I smelled something," he says, staring at his now-tingling hand. Baby fingers for the rest of the night were so worth the staring contest with Logan's beautiful body.

"Fuckin' idiot," Logan mutters, sheathing his claws and striding over to the hall closet to grab a towel. Wade's already stopped bleeding, but just because they might be immune to bloodborne pathogens doesn't mean Al is.

"Gah– get back, damn mutt." Logan shoos Dogpool out of the kitchen to prevent her from lapping up her papa's bodily fluids. He throws the towel in Wade's face and goes to grab the bleach out of the cupboard under the sink. Logan learned very quickly where to find it the first time this happened a month or two ago.

"Sorry baby, Mommy's got a boo-boo and Daddy's just trying to help," Wade coos at Dogpool. "You're too good to me, peanut. Someone oughta wife ya up before I do."

Logan responds with a scowl as he tosses the carrots out and tries to keep the counter from staining. "Why th'fuck did you do that?"

"It was time for a new hand. Old one was so last season."

Wade mops up the blood from his arm and wraps the towel onto his head like he's just gotten out of the shower. Holding up his regenerating stump, he poses like a cover model for Vogue.

"Whatcha think, peanut?" He strikes another pose. "Is this doing anything for ya, big boy?"

Logan grunts as he tosses a wad of paper towels into the trash can. He turns to leave the kitchen, eyes flicking to Wade. It's the quickest once over ever, but Wade sees it. Commits it to memory while he pulls a Flashdance in a chair from the kitchen table and follows Logan's denim-clad ass as it sways off to the bathroom.

"'M gonna go shower. Don't wait up,” Logan calls before shutting the door and locking it.

Sighing, Wade looks down at his crotch, pants tent pitched higher and tighter than a first-timer on Everest.

Good thing he's ambidextrous.

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almightygremlinblob · 3 months

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In Every Life (AMAB Ver.)

In which Sukuna falls in love with the Reader without realizing it.

Word Count: 5, 466 of slow burn. ⚠️Content Warnings⚠️: True Form Sukuna, Heian Era, Sukuna fluff, soft Sukuna, mentioned cannibalism, slight angst, Sunshine AMAB!Reader but gender neutral expressions used, Reader is not a sorcerer and is implied to be the only non-sorcerer of her village. THIS IS NOT BETA'D and I am very tired while editing this. SO! If you spot any mistakes, esp. around the parts lmao, since I made two ver. of this, pls tell me! Minors and ppl not okay with anything sexual pls DNI and have a nice day 👍🏽 AFAB!Reader (with gender-neutral pronouns) here

⚠️Further Content Warnings⚠️: Virgin!Sukuna, Sub!Sukuna, Reader and Sukuna both switch from gentle doms to subs, size difference, soft & fluffy sex, very messy sex, Reader makes out with the tummy mouth, anal, cock worship, Reader makes out with tummy mouth, lots of fluids in general, lots of mouths, consensual blood drinking, this is getting worse the more I write lmao.

You were happy you managed to catch the attention of the King of Curses.

Sure, you didn't exactly know how you did it. You weren't strong, or exceptionally beautiful like the sons and daughters offered to him. You weren't even that smart!

You were clueless, as a matter of fact!

So clueless that, nearly two weeks ago, you gave the strange looking man with four arms a warm meal and a place to stay for the night - since it didn't seem like the storm would let up any time soon. He was pretty much shunned by the rest of the village upon his arrival…probably due to the overwhelming energy that sent people into fight or flight…but he was just born different!

Probably.

"What's your name, Mister?"

"…"

You quickly learned that he didn't speak much, and he does not like to be looked at. Only watching as you go about your day - trying your best to navigate through the judgement and, frankly, abuse of the other villagers; ever as judgemental about you as they were likely to talk down on you, spread rumors and try to take advantage of your endless kindness. Not that it worked, though - and for that, everyone pretty much hated you. Despite his silence, your visitor was the only one that seemed to regard you without any ounce of hatred.

Then, one day…

"Why do you entertain them?"

"Ah!" You visibly jumped at that moment - up until now you were certain he couldn't speak. His voice was lovely baritone, but held a quiet authority - much like him…and a very clear evil but you wouldn't dwell too much on that. "M-me? Oh…of course, me…"

"U-um…I'm not entirely sure, actually. I don't like them, b-but…" Those sharp, piercing eyes are distant, scanning the forest as you tried to think of a reason. "I-I guess they're my neighbors. Friends? No. But it wouldn't be right to just outright ignore them."

"Hmph, of course…" He scoffs, and rolls his eyes. "You people and your morals…"

"Do you not have friends?"

"No."

"Oh…" Your shoulders slump slightly. "Then, consider me your first friend!"

"No."

"Oh…"

When you visibly deflate, he laughs lightly, shaking his head as if he's heard something utterly ridiculous. "Why does that bother you? You hardly know me. I could be a mass murderer for all you know."

"Because you…you're…" You think for a while, before finding the right words. "One of the most unique people I've ever had the blessing of meeting."

His eyes finally land on you. "Blessing, huh?"

------

Eventually, the villagers turned violent towards you and your guest, but you did your best to keep him safe - urging him to leave, quickly. It was that day, when you were nearly beaten to death, that you learned the strange man's name.

"Die, you peasant!" There was something in the way these villagers attacked. A strange energy that made it hurt all the more. You were bloodied, bruised and beaten to the point you couldn't even find the strength to scream. A blade was pointed to your throat. "Any last words?"

Despite yourself, you manage to spit at him.

"I didn't think you had it in you." That familiar low voice, low and uninterested, sounds from behind you both. Then, before your very eyes, everyone was somehow cut to pieces. No screams, or cries…just the sounds of flesh and bone being cut apart. You were probably hallucinating...

You see your guest walk beside you - the gore, guts and limbs not affecting him in the slightest.

"Ah, you're okay…" His eyes land on you again. "B-be careful…t-there's an invisible…invisible something that's cutting people up…"

He scoffs. "And if I told you that was me?"

"What."

"Tsk." He promptly grabs you and, without you even realizing, your wounds begin healing, closing up, and suddenly you're more aware than you were a while ago. Then, with the flick of his wrist, the bodies get further chopped apart. The gears in your head start to turn and your eyes widen. "O-oh…"

"Go on, then. Go ahead." He grabs your face, forcing you to look at the disembodied people and the growing river of blood. "Run."

"No. No…" Your breathing steadies, and you relax into his hold. He must sense it with the way his whole body tenses for a moment. "Not from you."

In the silence, you can practically hear him thinking as he gets up. And when he made no move, you realized he was waiting for you. So you got up too, wordlessly, and began to follow him. After a while of silence, he graces you with his voice again - quiet, almost…soft.

"My name is irrelevant…but people call me Sukuna Ryomen, the King of Curses."

------

And that was the start of your new life, as a servant of the King of Curses.

It…wasn't so bad! Sure, you could be killed any day, like a few of the other servants and many of the courtesans, but you also didn't do much! And, best of all, no more of those abusive neighbors! Your days were mainly spent helping the head servant - the attractive one with white hair and a pink splotch - do things for the king, for only up to four hours. Four hours! Then you'd spend the rest of the day doing whatever!

This was not one of those days, however.

Today, you were cleaning the Lord's study, in his chambers, along with the attractive head servant. There were...a strangely high number of Dokudami paintings...

"The Lord seems to have an obsession with this herb. Does he like it?"

"That's an interesting observation. Though you're mistaken. It's more the symbolism of this plant."

"And…that would be?"

"Its flowers are delicate, pure. The plant itself is medicinal against many illnesses - it's endlessly helpful. Kind. But it grows everywhere, even in the places not many grow. A surprising resilience despite it's 'delicate' nature." The head servant explains, and you can hear the tinge of amusement in their voice. "Remind you of anyone?"

"Uh…no? No one comes to mind…"

They simply snort at that.

------

The first time you were called to his chambers, you thought you were going to die. Actually, everyone thought you were going to die. They were all giddy at the thought. You didn't expect to just sit there in silence while he practiced his calligraphy.

"I can hear you thinking. Speak."

You fidget around a little, before getting the words out. "I've always been meaning to ask…why…why me, my Lord?"

He clicks his tongue. "You dare question my choices?"

"N-no! Only…I'm curious."

Sukuna is silent for a while, hand perfectly still as he thinks, before eventually speaking.

"You calm me." He sighs as his brush continues to move. "Somehow, every time, you calm me."

------

The courtesans could see you from outside, and you could practically feel them glaring daggers at you - endlessly furious and envious that you could be that close to the Lord.

"My Lord, you…never seem to show interest in your courtesans. Have they, I mean…" You weren't sure how to word it without coming off as too brash.

"Of course they try to bed me. They always do. Don't even try to hide that they're doing it to gain a semblance of power in my estate. The last two were just…" He waves his hand dismissively, tone making it abundantly clear he wasn't happy with the memory. "Had her head cut off and the second had his limbs strewn on the floor."

You feel his gaze on you, scowl evident in even his voice. "Why do you ask me about this?"

"It's just…you have so many, I thought, well..."

"Tsk. They only want something from me, and they think they can take it freely. From me. Me!"

"Surely not ALL of them…" You fidget a little. "Why would you keep them around if that was? There's…there's so many…"

You can practically hear his smirk. "Because their organs taste GREAT sautéed."

"A-ah…"

He snorts, seeing your discomfort. "Are you afraid of becoming like them?"

"I…hm…" You look up in thought. "Perhaps…"

He lets out a soft laugh. "Then you truly are a fool."

"But…I think, it would be a good sacrifice." You finish the last area, as he goes awfully quiet. "Like an offering to a god. I think…I think I wouldn't mind that."

His presence is more than clear behind you, strong and foreboding. "Do you mean it?"

"Yes."

"Do you trust me?"

"Of course."

"Liar. Everyone says that…" He scoffs. "…but, nobody means it. If given the chance…"

You hear a sound, sharp and strong, much like a blade. A pain blooms from your wrist, and you realize you're bleeding lightly - only a few drops of blood at a time. "They all run."

"No. I wish to stay by your side, my Lord. I have nowhere I'd rather be." When you relax and make no move to run, a big and warm hand engulfs yours.

"You…weren't lying." You feel lips against the wound on your outer wrist, and the swipe of a tongue against it before the wound starts to close. "You fool…"

------

Many in the estate didn't like you, jealous of how close you were to the Lord - but it wasn't everyone. Now, it was everyone. Rumors fueling jealousy and malice for the very obvious favoritism.

Taking little nibbles, you didn't want to take more than your share.

The food was beyond AMAZING. However, Sukuna simply scowls as you shyly keep your head bowed and you must feel his gaze harden by the way you flinch under it.

"I apologize. I just…don't want to take more than my share…"

"Do you mean to insult me? This entire meal is yours." He scoffs, grabbing your bowl. He grabs one of the sushi rolls and puts it against your mouth, which is still closed due to your surprise. "Eat. I won't accept this…whatever it is you're doing."

"O-oh, I-…thank you, my Lord." You open your mouth and allow him to feed you. Light blush forming from how good the food is. Yes, that was definitely why. "My compliments to the chef. This is beyond delicious, my Lord…"

And it was true, the sushi, the miso soup, selection of meats, everything tasted DIVINE.

"Compliments taken."

WAIT-

You nearly choke on your food. "I-I apologize…my Lord. I, you…for me???"

"Use your words."

"I mean, ah…" You shake your head, trying to recover from your mind going into overdrive. "You…made this for me?"

"Yes." He says it so plainly.

"What…what for?"

He doesn't answer and, for once, looks unsure. "I…I don't know."

------

When you came out of his chambers unscathed the second time, everyone - except for Lord Sukuna himself and his servant - went into a frenzy. The servants were appalled, the courtesans were fuming, and you made sure to steer clear of everyone who now seemed to loathe you. And, soon enough, all your duties were either with the head servant, with Lord Sukuna, or by yourself. Still, you didn't feel safe in the estate anymore.

Then, one night, the head servant came to your quarters, stating that "Lord Sukuna has requested I take you to his chambers."

If you weren't going to die physically, you would die of embarrassment.

Still, you followed the white haired servant to his chambers, entire form trembling as you nearly stumbled over yourself. Sukuna glances you once over, and can't help the snort that escapes his lips. You looked like a newly born fawn with how shaky your legs were.

"My sincerest apologies. I just…nervous…"

"That much is clear. Sit." Something is off and you can tell he's tense. "This probably isn't going to go how you're expecting."

You do as he says, sitting seiza in front of him. Something sharp is pointed to your throat, right where the artery is. Your eyes go wide, but after a little bit, you allow your entire body to relax. If you should die by anyone's hand, it would be his.

"Look at me." He commands and you look up, seeing him holding a spear of sorts. For the first time, you see him - truly see him. His form beautiful, terrifying and divine all at once. Your eyes and body must show your adoration, because he looks away - as if uncomfortable.

He shuts his eyes, and the spear is repeatedly pushed against your neck, as if trying. However, it never follows through. This was so easy for him, and yet…

"My Lord, if I should die today, it would be the greatest honor for it to be by your hand." Your body relaxes, eyes close and you lean into the blade of the spear. Sukuna tenses, and you feel it in his hold. "If it's by your hand, my Lord, I can only die happy."

"Yes. That much you've made clear." You hear him sigh, tired and defeated, as the spear drops to the floor. "To think this is how I'd lose…how pathetic…"

"M…my Lord?"

"Leave."

You see him, frustrated and defeated, and it makes your heart ache to see him like this. Without even realizing it, your hand reaches out and stops just before touching him. "Might I stay for you? Please, I only want…"

His glare nearly has you frozen. "THIS is how you want to celebrate a victory over me?"

"No, my Lord. I only wish to stay by your side and help how I can."

He's quiet, clearly upset. "Do what you will with me. I might as well be worthless like this anyway."

"Never to me, Lord Sukuna." You take his hand in both of yours, and bring your lips to his knuckles but he quickly pulls his hand away.

"What?!" He snarls. "What use is your loyalty to someone like me now?"

"You are my Lord, Sukuna. I serve you…" Your eyes meet his, full of longing and concern. "Anything I can do to help you, please let me…"

His eyes briefly glance at your quivering lips, leaning in without realizing before he turns away with a click of his tongue.

"Leave."

And you do as you are told.

------

"How is Lord Sukuna?"

Was one of the most frequent questions you'd pester the head servant's ears with. They roll their eyes. "He's not frail, you know. You don't need to worry about him like a mother hen."

"I just…it's been a week since I've seen him! If he doesn't want to see me, that's fine, but…I-I'd at least like to know if he's okay…" You sigh. "And what I did wrong…so I can avoid doing it again!"

"Just give him time to process." The head servant states nonchalantly. "This is new territory for him."

------

The silence was…

Awkward, to say the least.

Not a word uttered as he continued to paint those stupid edible weeds in the candle-light. It was already late…

"A-ahem." Your voice breaks slightly when you clear your throat, and you feel his gaze on you. "M-my Lord, if there's nothing else, I shall retire for the night."

"Stay."

What.

"Don't make me repeat myself." Clearly your reaction was evident in your body, and you choke on your words before they even get out.

"That night was my first defeat." He says, as if sensing your question, yet you hear a tired and heavy sigh. "As of now, it's been my only one."

"But…have you been okay, my Lord?"

"Always about me, hm?" He scoffs, and there's tension as his footsteps grow closer. Your eyes meet his, beautiful and terrifying, when his fingers gently tug your chin up - guiding you to look at him. Guiding your body to the mattress as he cages you underneath him. "And why not just claim your victory? I have no right to complain. Isn't that what you meant to do the night you defeated me?"

"What? No! My, Lord, no! I-I'm sorry. It wasn't-I didn't mean-It's not what you think! I could never-" Your hands cover your mouth - shocked at the implication. "Oh Lord Sukuna, I bow to you! Only you! I-I will never, could never, force something like that on you! Not then. Not now…"

"Good. This was getting overwhelming." He sighs and then promptly rolls off you, plopping down to your side. Though your skins were still touching and, for once, Sukuna didn't mind someone this close to him in this way. He was relaxed, as if his worries melted away. You couldn't help the smile that grew. This was the Lord you know - a walking death and calamity, now pacified. You both face each other and he can't help but look away, cracking under the weight of your loving gaze - full of adoration, concern and awe.

Weak.

He was weak.

"Lord Sukuna, may I?" Your hand reaches out to him, stopping just before reaching the wooden part of his face. He was so terribly beautiful.

"Do as you wish." He mumbles, and you gently hold him - even though he doesn't show it, you can feel him tense.

"My Lord, what's wrong?" There it is again, the weight that makes him feel like he's breaking without being broken. "I know you don't need it, but I only wish to help in any way I can…"

His mouth opens and closes several times before he's able to finally find the worse. "You've broken me. Made me weak…and I can't even curse you, or wish we'd never met because I'd be lying."

You chuckle. "My Lord is far from weak."

"Yet I am powerless against you." His four eyes bore into you, in them a mix of desperation and longing, as you gently stroke the wooden part of his face. Finally, he closes his eyes, relaxing against you. "And I never thought defeat could feel like this…"

"Is it pleasant, my Lord?"

"It is…" You feel his fingers tracing along your collarbone, up to your jawline and you feel something wet licking your skin as his hand rests on your throat. A mouth on his hand, gently licking and suckling on the sensitive parts of your neck. "…but only if it's you."

"Lord Sukuna…" Despite everything, you feel he's still tense. "You're tense. Would you like me to…?"

"Yes. I meant to bed you tonight, but this…it's…" He sighs. "Overwhelming. I'm not clueless, but something about you makes it all…too much…"

"Then let me lead, my Lord." You gently push him down, and he lets you - following you as you guide him. His hand takes hold of your chin, pulling you in so your lips meet his. His kiss was tentative and unsure, or perhaps more accurately, scared. Scared of every feeling that threatened to overthrow him. You eagerly massaged your lips against his nonetheless. "Please…allow me to worship you tonight, Lord Sukuna."

His breaths become heavier when you straddle him, gently undoing his kimono while he easily rips your clothes to shreds with a flick of a wrist. Your lips mark his skin gently. Moving down to worship his mouth, jaw, his shoulders, both chests and finally to the mouth on his stomach - who was breathing just as heavy. Sukuna tenses when you take his tongue into your mouth, sucking on it and explore the much bigger one with your smaller tongue.

When you pull away, there's a small pool of saliva where the stomach mouth lay open and plenty on you where the mouth-hands had left their marks on your skin. Both his cocks, beautiful, heavy and fat, sat on his stomach where they were already leaking with arousal. Sukuna's breathing turned heavy, and as your hands move to his waist, stopping just before doing anything, you look up at him. "My Lord, if at any time you wish for me to stop, please say so. I will stop without hesitation or question."

"Always about me…" He chuckles and, in a sudden movement, easily manhandles you so your ass is on his stomach-mouth. "No, I do not wish to stop. But if you truly ask for nothing in return, then let me be gracious."

"M-my Lord, ah-" Your eyes roll back when you feel that giant tongue lapping at the rim of your hole, the both of you moaning as he did so.

"Delicious…" A hand finds its way to your length, giving it lazy strokes before a mouth opens up and begins licking you - before taking you in. The heat of his mouth felt absolutely divine. The mouths on his other hands suck hickeys and bite the skin of your neck, while they find the sensitive nubs on your chest and harshly tug at them with teeth and lips, too. You hear a noise that's half-way between a whimper and a moan. "…everything about you…so delicious…"

"That's it, my Lord. I'm yours tonight…" You sigh, mind in bliss as your hands find his cocks. He bucks his hips when you begin to stroke him - slowly, before building to a steady pace. His cocks were thick and fat, heavy and veiny and monstrously beautiful in all the ways that had you nervous to take him. They throbbed eagerly, dare you say even aching for your touch. Bowing down, you take one of his tips into your mouth, careful not to let your teeth get in the way. The way his tip had pulsed and the amount of arousal you had to swallow down, had you moaning and whining happily as you swallowed his cock. Amidst the low growling of his stomach mouth, you hear a noise that's halfway between a whimper and a moan, and feel him buck his hips into your mouth as you lick and suck on him eagerly - tongue, lips and hands feverishly worshipping Sukuna's heavy, monstrous lengths.

The tongue begins to enter you, and you nearly cum on the spot - choking on his cock. Slowly, it reaches deep, deep enough to hit that spot that has you seeing stars. When you continue to moan, Sukuna's hips move on their own - tip fucking your mouth while you drool and stroke him.

You both get lost in pleasure. His large tongue tastes and moves eagerly inside you, practically assaulting that sweet spot as the stomach mouth continues to growl and whine and drool. While you eagerly suck on and stroke his twitching and throbbing lengths and he returns the favor, albeit a little more sloppy.

A guttural moan escapes Sukuna's throat when he releases into your greedy mouth, and you do your best to swallow everything he has to offer while his other cock paints you in white. Drool, precum and his seed still leak out your mouth, though - and you quickly find it's too much. Before you can stop yourself, you release into the mouth sucking you off - ass clamping down on the large tongue inside you as it continues to move inside of you, well past your high. You cum heavy into one of your Lord's many mouths, and it gags on your cock - the sensation making you spurt more into the mouth that greedily tries to swallow everything.

His tip leaves your mouth with a sloppy and wet pop and with a groan, both tongues take one final lick before retracting back. You both are breathing heavy, shaking a little as he repositions you to face him. His hand caresses your face, eyes completely dilated as he makes a noise somewhere between a moan and a sigh.

"Oh, gods, look at you…"

"My Lord, I-" Your eyes widen a little as you struggle a little in his grasp. "Wait-"

"Have you forgotten who you answer to?" He clicks his tongue. "You are in no position to make demands of me."

"I…answer to you, my Lord." You still, realizing what he was asking you. "I'm sorry."

There's a small silence as you look away bashfully. However, when you glance back at him and are met with a frown - there was the sudden realization of an unsaid question waiting to be answered. He hasn't moved at all. Immediately, you explain yourself, not wanting him to get the wrong idea. "I-I'm still a bit sensitive, is all…but I-I still want this! Truly, my Lord! I-I want…I want you, still."

Your voice comes out a little higher than you would have liked, but it seemed to quell him nonetheless.

"As am I, but…" He sighs and before he looks away, you capture his lips in a chaste but wet kiss.

"I know." You bite your lip bashfully and your voice comes out soft and sweet in all the ways that make his cocks twitch. "But, I did promise to worship my Lord tonight. I shouldn't make a promise I can't keep."

When your hands begin to stroke him again, slow and gentle, Sukuna practically throws his head back, biting back a low whimper while his stomach mouth shamelessly groaned and panted. He cursed as his hips began to move on their own, muscles tensing as his cocks grew hard again. Yet when your eyes lock he only sees adoration and longing in them as your hands worshipped him diligently. Not the empty lust he saw in everyone else who wanted him this way but could never get close.

"You look incredible like this, my Lord." Your voice comes out raspy and full of longing, and it tears a near animalistic sound from him.

"Enough." He growls, and you immediately stop. "Let me inside you."

"Anything for you." A mix of arousal, anxiousness and excitement overwhelms you as you climb on top of him, positioning yourself so his bottom cockhead kisses the entrance to your ass - readying you as it spurts those large trickles of precum. The both of you share a guttural groan as you sink down on one of his cocks, the free one throbbing delightfully in front of your own length. Sukuna was massive, to say the least, and despite how dripping wet he was your legs were still shaking from the wonderful strain. Although, your gummy insides took him in eagerly while being stretched to their limit.

The initial pain of the stretch was nearly drowned out by how wonderful he felt inside of you - fat and veiny cock completely filling you, dragging deliciously along the inside of your ass. You could feel him his arousal leak inside you, lubricating you plenty, and his length pulsing like a second heartbeat. And when you fully sheathed him inside of you, you both almost lost the ability to think properly.

"S-Sukuna, my Lord…" You'd be embarassed by how shameless you sounded with your Lord now fully inside you, his fat mushroom head leaking on and throbbing against that sweet spot. His hands rested on your hips, keeping your bodies joined with a messy puddle of arousal underneath you both. Sukuna's eyes were rolled back and fluttering slightly while his stomach mouth was open with his massive tongue lolled out, making a noise somewhere between a low growl and a whimper. Seeing him like this nearly sent you off the edge.

"O-ooh, gods…" He groans when he feels you clamp down on him, and a hand pulls your head into a clumsy kiss. You feel his breath turn into full on panting when he tasted himself on you, the hands on your hips now painfully digging into your skin as he begins to thrust up into you - sloppy, slow and languid, as if trying to get even deeper and split you apart. Your free hands, once caressing the wooden part of his face, now move down to stroke his free cock - earning you a low growling from the stomach mouth as it started panting.

"Oh, you feel heavenly, Lord Sukuna…" As if encouraged by your words, his thrusts start to get faster, harder - a steady rhythm beginning to build. "That's it. You're doing so well, my Lord."

"Ngh, ah…" Your Lord made such sweet sounds.

Neither of you were going to last long, it was all too much.

"A-ah, it's so good my Lord…" The pain had long subsided, replaced only with ecstacy. Sukuna's fat and heavy cock dragged along every part of your insides, and the feeling of the warm arousal dripping from his tip and the throbbing of his veiny length had you near screaming into his mouth. Your Lord was completely filling you and leaving no part of you unloved. While your ass, already sloppy and wet with Sukuna's arousal, desperately sucked him in every time you and him moved, only to be rewarded as he thrusted back in and you bounced back down on him, wet velvety insides squeezing him tightly as if never wanting him to leave. Without you even realizing it, your body was unconsciously and sweetly worshipping and loving your god. "I love you, Lord Sukuna!"

Something in Sukuna snaps upon hearing those words, which were otherwise empty - had it come from someone else.

"I want to taste you." He practically whimpers into your mouth as you both pant and continue to knot tongues. The kiss is clumsy, inexperienced, but you were far too lost in love to care - exploring your Lord's mouth eagerly while you struggle to ride his beautiful, monstrous form. The tongues on his mouths sucking, biting and tasting your skin; marking every bit of your body they could. This would hurt, but you didn't care. You only wanted to show your god how much you loved him. "Let me taste you…"

"Yes, my Lord. Anything-" This would hurt, but you didn't care - only wanting to show your god how much you loved him. "Anything you wish of me…"

With the flick of his wrist, there's a sharp pain on your tongue and a metallic taste floods both of your mouths - there's not enough damage to fully cut off your tongue, however, only a cut.

"Swallow me." Sukuna's breath hitches as he continues to kiss you, letting out a noise between a growl and a whimper, and you realize that it wasn't only your blood in both of your mouths. An offering of a devotee to their god, and a god to their devotee. You eagerly swallow each other's blood, moaning into your mouths as you share the messy, bloody kiss.

"Y-yes, keep going my Lord…" You continue to encourage him, as one of his hands moves to take both of your lengths and stroke them together. You and Sukuna both throw your heads back and nearly yell as the mouth on his hand opens up and swallows the both of you - tongue working eagerly on both your tips while your hands work on the shafts. "Cum for me, my Lord. Please…"

His thrusts get faster and harder, and you bounce on him just as fervently. What was once a steady rhythm has now turned sloppy as you both rode each other into your high. Sukuna reaches his orgasm with a choked yell, and you reach yours with a scream - bodies tensing as you both get lost in each other and neither of you stop moving. His warm and thick seed floods your insides, far too copious and spilling over. Your ass spasms and clamps down on him, almost painfully milking and sucking him in, desperately trying and failing to keep his overflowing love inside. The mouth that held both of your cocks greedily tries and fails to swallow all of the overflowing love as you and Sukuna both cum heavy into it.

It feels like forever, but you eventually collapse on top of him - both of you too tired to pull out of either hole. Though the mouth that held both of your cocks still lazily licked up at all the overflow. Minds completely muddled neither of you could think, bodies shaky with the high and tranquility of post-orgasm. There was nothing but the sound of your breathing for a while, before he silently cups your face and you feel the sting on your tongue disappear. With shaky hands, you touch your tongue and find the cut was healed.

"Thank you for sharing your blood with me, my Lord." You bury your face in the crook of his neck. "If I may, might I stay the night?"

"You'll be staying here every night, from now on." Without realizing it, his lips reach your forehead. "And for the rest of eternity, you will never leave my side."

"Yes, my Lord. I swear it." It was one simple, powerful vow that had you staying by his side for the rest of your life…

And made you return to him, in every life after.

-----

My GAAAHD was this difficult to write. Not the writing part itself, NO. But finding the time for writing. YEEESH. Anyways, have a great day!

#jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x male reader #jjk x gender neutral reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna smut #sukuna x male reader #sukuna x amab reader #my writing

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thewinchestah · 3 months

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"Chega de Saudade" - Alastor X Reader fic

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader.

Summary: When Alastor breaks into the V's building seven years later he expects to find a lot of things, lot of obnoxious, enraging, tacky things. He did not expect to find you. The Radio Demon does not take betrayl lightly and you have to live with the consequences of selling your soul to his worst enemy. Better yet, you have to live with the consequences of selling your soul to Vox and Alastor finding out. The soul you sold because Alastor left you for 7 years. Safe to say, it's a mess. A pretty, angsty, dark and delicious mess.

Warnings: Alastor is in Hell for a reason,general hellish violence,general hellish creepiness,eventual smut, i carioca coded valentino bc i can and bc he is very carioca sorry everyone,blackmail, Soul Selling, author is really invested in politics and decided to micromanage hazbin hotel canon, Corruption, Extortion, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, but nothing too explicit,mature themes in general, canon divergence, Not Canon Compliant, Eventual Smut, Alastor gets insane in this one you've been warned, fear play, Possessive Behavior, posessive sex, big bad radio demon is gonna fuck up the guy who stole his girl and will make it everyone's problem, Reader-Insert,no y/n,no beta we die like men here, i feel bad for tagging vox in this fic cause i think it's a disservice i really hate him and i make it clear so vox stans be warned, it's hell i hope y'all remeber ethics are fluid, posessive!Alastor, unhinged!Alastor, Isane!Alastor

Taglist: honestly only my queen @jyoongim i have no credibility to tag anyone anymore after being away for so long. If you wanna be tagged on future updates just let me know!

A/N:HI HEY BUNNY ANON IF YOU ARE STILL HERE THIS ONE FOR YOU!! Hiii everyone guess who's back. I had this fic cooking for a while now, actually i had a lot of writing cooking but in a very Ao3 author fashion a lot happened. You see i was on this writing streak and then my 15yo dog died while i was out of state. I had to go back on anti depressants and take a sabbatical. I got a new puppy and she's the light of my life. Got super sick, won a horse show. My first plan for this fic was having the first 3 chapters done and ready for debuting together because i always feel i'm lacking when i show up with only one chapter lol. After a while i realised i needed to get this first chapter out too see the light of day if i wanted to write again so here it is. This fic is a bit different from my other Alastor fics and i have a rough outline of 5 chapters so i think this beast will be more than 20k words long for sure. I decided to get a little deeper into Hell's politics and all the "no one ever thought of using heavenly weapons against hell even tough Hell's ancient and the best worst of humanity and demonkind is here". I call that bullshit sorry i'm brazilian i'm well versed in shady politicians and shady politics and unfortunatly, dear reader, you are in for this ride too. This fic kicks off right after "Stayed Gone". Also did i mention i'm brazilian and that my works are heavily inspired by brazilian media. This entire fic was inspired by one of my favourite songs of all time "Chega de saudade". And let's be real, Alastor and bossa nova are the perfect match. So yeah, english is not my first language and this isn't beta'd so sorry for any confusion or mistakes. Thank you so so much for reading my fics and always leaving the most kind beautiful and heartwarming feedback. I hope i can still deliver a nice story to my darling readers.

Click here for my other fics.

CHAPTER ONE: chega de saudade a realidade é que sem ela não pode ser.

In the first year you were calm and collected. There’s a perfectly reasonable explanation to why he is gone. Is he even gone, gone? He’s coming home soon, you can feel it.

In the second year you convinced yourself there were signs everyone explaining why he was gone and when he was coming back, you were just too oblivious to them before. But everything can be a sign when you are delusional.

In the third year you cried so much you felt you were constantly drowning. You barely left home and some thought you were gone too. Gone to him.

In the fourth year you finally gave in and took the deal. Lack of self-preservation and machiavellian schemes working together to create a trap for him. He would come home out of anger, ire. But you can't outfox the fox.

In the fifth year you decided to scour hell and beyond after him. You went to places just to taunt him. Paranoia became your best friend, blood sweat and tears as you repeat “This time it will work, I'm sure of it”. Can a lie be said so many times it becomes the truth?

In the sixth year you accept defeat. You buried him deep and went about like he never existed in the first place. Isn’t it mystifying how this city screams his name?

It’s the seventh year now. The alarm on your phone rings and rings and you feel like scratching your face off. It’s time to meet your damned executioner.

Rolling out of bed you open the curtains to let some light in. The penthouse from the V’s building has a great view of Pentagram City, looking down you get the feeling of dystopian sci-fi that is so characteristic of the technology district. Limelights, digital outdoors, and big opulent, oppressing screens greet you like a constellation of dead stars, long distorted from their original purpose and form.

You follow processional routine as you get ready. Choose a beautiful dress, put on make-up, and do your hair. It all feels like preparation for a sacrifice. One thing you learned from Alastor is that appearances are the best strategy and you intend to greet your handmade battlefield like a roman legion.

Alastor. Even thinking of his name hurts, especially today when you need to face the consequences of your actions, the consequences of his actions. He is gone, he left you. And now Vox owns your soul. You blame your fall from grace entirely on him, he forced your hand, he made you do it. Out of desperation, out of defiance, you sold your soul to Vox so he would come back and save you, so he would come back out of hatred, anger and ire to tell how foolish you were, how betrayed he felt.

Betrayal. Selling your soul to his sworn arch enemy should be treason worthy of him dropping anything he was doing to come and punish you, to address you. You just wanted to get a reaction out of him, proof that he still cared. That he didn’t just get bored of the empire of terror he fought so hard to build in Hell. That he didn’t, deep down, just disregard you like a shiny novelty, to be left when it got old.

You dry the persistent tears that insist on falling with clinical coldness. You are past feeling sad now, you don’t even feel angry anymore. You are past any emotion really, you just want to get this over with and get back home.

You went about your deal with Vox in many different ways, sometimes you felt like it was a good alliance, a slap on Alastor’s face. A side quest to gather as much information from the V’s inner circle, a social experiment. The truth is, during these past almost four years you were a mental gymnastics pro to justify your new arrangements. The cognitive dissonance required to live with the decision of being forever tied to Vox was an herculean task and boy he didn’t make it any easier on you. He would never be as refined as Alastor when it came to torture but there’s something about the coldness and calculated reality of the television business that was it’s own type of Dante’s inferno.

As soon as he got word of Alastor’s disappearance the TV overlord was on your scent, and he wasn’t shy about it either. You dodged him and led him on for almost four full years before finally giving in, everything was more or less under control during the early years of Alastor’s disappearance.

Until you saw the angel army leaving.

Death and gore were all around you. The sky rained blood. You couldn’t breathe. You tried to take a step forward only to realize you were knee-deep in demon blood. Adam was particularly ruthless this time, he seemed to have realized the unbalance in Hell’s power structure with one of the most prolific demon overlord’s absence and took full advantage of it. You choked on the sulfur filled air while the portal closed and Adam threw a last middle finger at the Pride Ring. A clawed hand offered you support as you were about to fall, your heart skipped a beat, for a split second you felt elation. In that split second a thousand thoughts, four years of misery and confusion passed through your mind like a movie. You were sure this was Alastor, showing up after the unprecedented carnage of today’s reaping. With the next heartbeat came the delivery of the most cruel reminder: the hand reaching for you was Vox’s. Alastor doesn’t care about anything anymore, not even losing territory.

The TV overlord was covered in thick, red blood and looked vindicated, a wide chesire’s cat grin on his face. Baptized in carnage, Vox had finally triumphed for the V’s.The V’s were now a force to be reckoned with in Hell, there’s no argument to be made. A good chunk of Alastor’s territory was now under their control, and everything that came with it too. Including you.

“My darling doe, be careful, we can’t have you hurt after the battle is won can we?”

Darling doe.

You threw up at the casual cruelty of the name Alastor called you with such affection being desecrated by Vox. He still supported you as you spilled your guts, you’d blame it on the nerves, the adrenaline, the reeking smell of death. Not on the fact that you knew he finally won, that the thing that broke you was to hear your name like that, on your lover archenemy’s lips. After that it happened. You sold your soul to vox. Of course he coerced you into it, and you were so mad with grief and betrayal that you felt like betraying Alastor back was the just thing to do. Pettiness and paradoxical hope dripping from your lips as the whole thing was done.

Every year this same flashback assaulted your mind as you got ready to meet Vox on the anniversary of your deal. It never went past the look you gave those pixelated eyes as he held you on that barren land, stopping right there when you made the decision that finalized your ruin. You still wouldn’t, couldn't face what really went down when you formalized your deal with Vox. Those memories were suppressed and tucked in under layers and layers of regret and self-hatred.

You gave yourself a final look in the mirror. No makeup smudging this time, you were getting good at numbing your feelings. Just a few tears, no more sobbing.

The yearly meeting with the V’s after the extermination was the perfect cover actually, everything was done in a way that it seemed like you were all cooperating. After all, you did hold a very good knowledge of the inner workings of Alastor’s deals, subordinates and territory. You knew who the V’s could “call in favours” and how to keep the peace. Or as close to peace as peace came when an abrupt power transition happened in Hell. You were a valuable asset to anyone really. Articulated in politics, masterful at the art of persuasion, kind, soft, charismatic, assertive, all in perfect balance, and frankly, breathtakingly beautiful. It wasn’t without reason that Alastor fell for you and that you became his most trusted advisor. You and Rosie were able to conceal his absence and manage his affairs for good two years and the better part of the third without raising any suspicion. Of course, the bigger they are the harder they fall and now you were walking down the corridor of the V’s building carrying a bulk of important intel that would dictate the fate of the Overlord power structure for the next year, at least.

The hallways of the building changed a lot since you first walked them. As the V’s grew in power, the building grew in grandeur. It was now an imposing beast, looming over Pentagram City. Modern corporate architecture that incorporated the savage capitalism of Vox Tech. Savage, cold, sterile, overbearing that’s how being inside the lair of Hell’s most up and coming trio felt. The tall ceilings and big glass windows were exactly what you would expect of a broadcasting network and silicon valley Big Tech company combined. As an esteemed guest, you got the privilege of staying in the coveted penthouses, with someone to attend to your every wish and demand. You also got an idea that Vox went a little extra with your treatment as a form of flirtation, he has been trying to convince you into moving in for a while, every time you stayed in, your usual penthouse had some shiny new thing that was made just for you, as he repeatedly emphasized.

This year’s token of affection was a makeup mirror-gadget-thingy, that looked out of a Totally Spies episode. You had to admit to yourself that this was way more thoughtful and useful than the gifts from the previous years. The thing was cute, practical and would come in handy, which was a big improvement. Vox had tried to sway you with all types of guns and high tech devices in vain. Well, there was also that embarrassing stance with the wire flowers with a hidden recording device. Needless to say that after that entire debacle Vox learned that he may own your soul but you weren’t a damsel in distress and you would reinforce your side of the bargain if he went too far.

You reached the elevator and went in, pushing the button for your destination.

The earlier you start this the earlier it is over, you remind yourself.

The panoramic elevator descended to the well guarded conference room, the guards didn’t bat an eye to you entering. You realized you were becoming a familiar face around here, that made you dread what’s ahead of you even more.

“There she is! Hello princesa, I missed that pretty face!” Valentino greets you. He’s the only one inside, sitting on the edge of the table. Well, that’s unusual… you think. Vox was always the first to get to the post-extermination meetings, plus he always gave you a slightly early timetable so he could have some alone time with you. Something must be going on.

“Hey Valentino, it’s nice to see you too! What gossip do you have for me today?” you give your best chirpy tone to the love moth. Look, you know how bad Valentino is, he is despicable really, even to your standards. But ethics are fluid, to say the least, in Hell. The acclaimed porn king was surprisingly engaging to talk to. He was fun and actually treated you like a person, which was paradoxical in itself, considering how infamous he is for exploiting and commodifying souls. You drove yourself mad with theories of possible agendas behind Valentino’s kindness towards you, but it was the simplest of answers really, for some reason Valentino liked you and he never denied himself of what he liked.

“You have no idea! We have a lot to catch up on, did I tell you about that bitch who was trying to spy on us?” a set arms gestures to you to sit down next to him. The next 10 minutes are spent talking frivolities with the moth. You’re not complaining, it's nice to get your mind off this dreadful day and you don’t get many.

Valentino, as always, has a lot to say, little goes on in Hell without him knowing who, what, where and why. Information, gossip, rumors, facts, if a single out of context word can be weaponized you better be aware that he knows. Pentagram city can be divided into districts and ruled by lots of different overlords, still, Valentino’s intricate web of influence and coercion stretches across all territories. Another poor soul manifests here and goes somewhere they should not be, talk to someone they should not talk to, discover something they should never know. All cases of “wrong place at the wrong time” are happily solved by a large sum of money from the moth and suddenly another thread is weaved into his web of knowledge, another secret made his. Valentino doesn’t operate like most Overlords and that’s where his power lies. He bribed and fucked his way into every major circle, every overlord’s inner circle, Hell’s best kept secret. If you were anyone in the hellish afterlife Valentino either fucked you or fucked someone very close to you.

Knowledge is power, and Hell��s gossip girl was proof of it.

You swallowed a lump you didn’t know existed, hearing the moth talk about how things changed in a matter of hours during the early post-war made you even more aware of the severity of the intel you were carrying. It was earth shattering (no pun intended) information.

Angels can be hurt. Angels can be killed. That meant a completely different way of existing in the afterlife, if this information goes public, the consequences are unpredictable and dire.

You don’t feel excitement knowing you technically can fight back, you feel pure dread.

To be completely honest, you feel like these “news” are not really news. You were pretty acquainted with politics back on Earth and this whole “omg no one knew about this! even though this was staring us right on your faces! is total bullshit. Hell is ancient, the exterminations are not a new thing, and there are some pretty smart people down here. To think that millenia after millenia masters of torture and skilled killers never thought of using heaven’s own firepower against them is wishful thinking at best. Sure, maybe after a few generations most sinners, even those who have power, may have been kept out of the loop about the chick in the holy army’s armor… but not knowing this at all just feels like a pretty convenient case of collective amnesia.

Convenient, that’s exactly what this is. It’s brutal, but that’s Hell. A scheduled massacre is a blessing to those who rule to maintain, reinforce and extend their power. And if you get lucky enough, empires will fall and you will make your move.

Vini Vidi Vici, that’s all you need to know about how Hell's politics work.

It’s true that with every massacre the Angel Army gets more and more brutal and unhinged. What was once justified as righteous mercy killings to stabilize the ever growing hellish population now is just a display of cruelty, these angels kill for sport. There have been rumors floating around of how the disproportional annihilation tactics are preparation for something bigger for a while now , and with the demonic royal families either operating totally off Pride Ring or being completely MIA, it is no wonder those influential enough are starting to get restless.

And that ties back to your first point, the thing that got you picking the skin around your nails while Valentino gossips. There’s a reason why this is being revealed now, you know how creating a narrative works, a few smart words and ideas become beasts of its own. A beast of its own that will tear anything on its way with the right fuel. The V’s have fuel to spare. Whose interest is that this information stayed hidden? Whose interest is that this information was allowed to be shared now?

Hell is constructed by layers and layers of complicated militias and parallel governance, each one a locked room of secrecy that is impossible to enter without a huge amount of connections and power.

“In a world of locked rooms, the man with the key is king. And, honey, you should see me in a crown” Valentino wisely said to you once. He’s a man of many many keys, and right now you are holding the fucking master key under your arm.

Speaking of Valentino, he notices that you dozed off and snaps his fingers, grounding you back to reality.

“My, my. You must have extremely sensitive information today to keep you from hearing the nastiest, hottest gossip of the moment babe” He takes a hit from his cigarette, an elegant and sensual move straight from an Old Hollywood film. The heart shaped smoke rings caress your face and for an instant you feel hypnotized, nodding your head profusely.

“But I already knew that” behind the rose coloured shades, you see a playful wink from his infamous red hot eyes.

The porn overlord quickly snaps his head towards the huge automatic doors, that open and reveal Vox and Velvette walking side by side exchanging looks between them that scream conspiracy.

“Sorry about the wait, my darling” Vox purrs on your way, stopping behind your chair and placing his hands on top of it, fingers dangerously close to your neck and shoulder. He pushes your hair to the side and lingers there, on your neck. “but as they say ain’t no rest for the wicked, am I right?” Velvette takes her seat beside Vox’s empty chair, meticulously placed in front of you, polite pleasantries leaving her mouth. She’s still a mystery, you never know her true stance on you, she keeps you on your toes. Does she like you? Does she hate you? Does she even care?

“If you say so, boss!” you give him your best pageant smile. “So, who’s climbing up the ladder of the food chain today?” You bat your eyelashes at him. Your performance begins.

“Aw baby, you know I love when you call me boss! keep talking dirty to me” Vox lands a wet kiss on your cheek and makes his way to his chair.

Right in front of you, so he’s always staring at you, drinking in your every move. You cannot fail, you cannot falter.

As much as you’ve gotten used to pretending, pretending you like the V’s, pretending you don’t feel disgusting inside for being here, pretending you don’t hate Alastor for putting you in this situation with a burning passion but still missing him so much you feel someday your heart will stop beating in protest to him absence, it’s still hard. Especially when Vox touches you. Your eyes focus on cybersharks swimming behind Vox’s seat and concentrate on keeping your awarding winning poker face.

“This year looks really promising I will tell you that! The orders for both your weapons and tragedy porn cameras doubled since the last extermination! I will give credit where credit is due, that fuckboy Adam knows how to put on a show!” he snaps his fingers graphs, stats and footage appears on the various screens. But it’s all irrelevant, it won’t matter when you spill your secret.

“Lot’s of veeeery interesting happenings but I thought this year we might… start differently. Let’s forget the profit talk for now, change things a little. Did you guys see anything out of the ordinary? Did something stand out?!” he spins around his Big Boss ™ chair and stops with his hand under his chin, leaning in to you like a schoolgirl with the hottest new gossip.

“Oh! I heard things -” Val also leans in getting closer to the TV overlord face.

Vox’s grin shrinks, lifting a finger in protest

“We know, we know, you always hear things Val” he replies in a monotone tone

Velvette, who spent this entire time typing away on her phone, interjects

“Look, don’t take this the wrong way girlypop” finally looking at you she asks, or rather, states the million dollar question “ but what Vox means is that we know you have something big cooking inside those files, so let’s drop the bullshit and go straight to it”

The doll puts her phone down, she knows how important this is, how this secret will probably dictate how things will go from now on. You can call Velvette many things, but she is clever and under all that attitude and posh accent lies a brilliant strategist.

“Plus, we all know you are contractually obligated to tell anyway, so spill, and can make this quick and painless to everyone involved”

Right, your cartesian, empirical proof that angels can be killed. Caught on the scene of the crime with the gun in your hands.

You don’t waste anymore time, the words leave your lips like you’re choking with the threat they present. You tell them everything: where the exorcist was killed, how he was killed, the golden ichor blood that oozed from the wound, where the body was hidden. Everyone is silent while you speak, even the mechanical sharks seem to have stopped swimming to listen.

After that you don’t remember much more of the meeting, it felt like you took the backseat of your own mind, the overwhelming feeling of dread making you so out of breath. Something is coming, something fucking coming and you can’t breathe. Anxiety sets under your skin like a second skeleton begging to crawl its way out and you find yourself sitting in one of the lavish anterooms of the V’s building.

“So, the cat’s out of the bag then” you recall hearing Vox saying when, as if on cue, a few moments before the meeting was being declared over, the emergency broadcast about the reduction of the extermination date from a year to six months was issued. You four watch the transmission and you wonder if that’s what it feels like to get the news of the end of the Cold War, the doomsday clock finally hits midnight and we are nuking each other out.

Mutual destruction assured.

Your mind wanders back to your life on earth, if life up there is better or worse these days. You died so young, everybody told you, your Untimely Demise a big topic of conversation that you yourself didn’t know much about. But nothing, nothing in all of your living years and your years from Hell to eternity could prepare you for what comes next.

“So the Radio Demon is back in town! Why is he hanging around? What does it mean for your family?”

The news hit your ears like a tsunami and you feel dizzy. It’s easy to find a big screen here and you are running to the closest one before your brain can even compute the words.

Alastor is back, Alastor is back, and he didn’t come find you.

The next sound wave is even worse, dragging you ashore to your feelings without any reprieve.

“Salutations!

Good to be back on the air! Yes, I know it's been a while, since someone with style treated hell to a broadcast

Sinners, rejoice!”

This isn’t a prank, there are no cameras and a sadistic tv host waiting for your humiliating reaction, instead all pairs of eyes in Hell are glued to the screen watching as the two Overlords fight it out.

Thus, no one notices how your entire body shakes and your vision goes black. It’s too much, and you grip the rails from the stairs that lead to the foyer for dear life. Your heart is beating out of your chest. No one notices how you cry, how you whimper Alastor’s name like a prayer, how the tears run down your face and you feel paralyzed. You want to run, a million thoughts per heartbeat making your head swim. The best you can do is collapse on the floor. So you do, you collapse trying to catch your breath as you plan your sweet escape, how you are going to Houdini yourself out of this situation right to his arms.

“Tune on in

when I'm done, your status quo will know its race is run”

You want to kiss him, you want to slap him, you want to tell him how much you missed him, you much your fucking hate him. You want him to drag you to his rooms and make you pay for cursing him out. You want him, you want your Alastor back. You cannot breathe.

“Oh, this will be fun.”

and then all the lights go out.

There’s a beginning of an uproar happening, the electric building dies a quick and unforgiving death, demons run around and Vox is flying down the stairs trying to do damage control. But even he is failing to keep his composure, because he knows. Oh how you know too.

Alastor is like a natural disaster, a shattering force that bends everything on its way with the sheer force of will. The inevitable reckoning that comes to your town, that judges and executes everyone that you love.

And now he is here.

You see the burning red hot pair of eyes first, their predatory gaze hold the entire room hostage, looking for his prey and then they land on you.

The piercing intensity of Alastor’s eyes, the flickering reds of damnation itself, regard you with surprise, elation and something more. So overbearing those eyes are, they make you shiver, bearing the weight of his gaze that penetrates deep into your soul. Your soul that is not yours anymore, it belongs to the man he hates, the man he despises.

The Radio Demon’s towering frame closes the distance between you two in five long strides, you do your best to keep yourself upright and not cower at the sight of him. He looks like Rapture and righteous torture, coming to deliver your setance. Vox knows his sentence is being delivered here and now too, so he runs, runs to you. You feel static and an electrifying pull, metal clinking. A chain. A glowing blue chain on your neck and Vox’s pulling it tight.

“What? what the fuck is going on? what’s this?” snapping your neck quickly towards Vox you whimper, you beg. The few seconds you stopped looking into Alastor’s eyes causing seething rage inside the deer demon, ire that makes the room tremble.

‘“Talk over the radio, that way everyone can hear, baby” Vox says straight at Alastor, like it is a shooting gun. The look on the TV Overlord is maniac, a sideway cocky smile that drips pettiness. Just because Vox clearly lost this battle, with all tvs and electricity on petagram city going dark, it doesn’t mean he can’t still forever tarnish this victory.

Alastor’s demonform covers the already dark building in opaque, thick shadows, radio static picks up around the room like a tornado chocking the majority of the unfortunate demons that are still inside, in a desperate attempt to seek shelter.

No words leave the radio host’s lips as he grows even taller, breaking the posh entrance of the building, debris flying down causing even more damage, the tall glass windows shatter in a million pieces courtesy of his tentacles tearing down everything on their way. The sounds of destruction and despair are loud but you haven’t been listening to the world outside you and your returned lover’s radio dial eye’s for a while. A doe caught in the headlight of his eyes the best you can do in brace for the inevitable impact that is coming your way.

In a flash of his scarlet eyes a fire ignites, the flames born from it are unnatural, behaving like a hive mind to kill and destroy.

You always knew that facing Alastor after these 7 years would not be easy, but you never imagine your reunion like this, in the midst of pomppeian fire, a wild raw power, the oncoming storm that is Alastor when he attacks.

Vox knows this fight is over, his ego hurt and today’s accounts always written as a victorious comeback from the Radio Demon, nevertheless, between the three of you Vox will always know who really won, who drew the last card, had the last laugh. He did, holding Alastor’s girl on a leash because he owns her. The soul of the woman the Radio Demon dared to love is his, the man Alastor despises with a burning passion, and that’s enough for now.

The raging flames circle the three of you and without much more flair Vox drops his act, your chain disappearing from your neck. You drop to the floor, branching yourself on all fours. You consider crawling your way to Alastor, so you can explain, so you can cry, so you can beg. You don’t know for what exactly you will be begging for: your life? his forgiveness? his punishment? you just know a lot of begging and pleading will be involved.

But the decision is made for you.

“Run, run my little darling doe” Vox commands “Run and do whatever you need to do”

You get up on your feet in a completely ungracious move and Alastor’s out of the room instantly. The flames never touch you on the way out, the outside world greets you: a cacophony of screams, sirens, burning sounds, the infernal orchestra that becomes the soundtrack of your life.

“Oh, and by the way” Vox screams from the threshold of the decaying building “we just got news that your place on Cannibal Town got trashed by some wayward sinners during extermination. But don’t worry you can always come home here, come home to me!”

You do your best to ignore his taunting, and you pray to whoever is listening that Alastor didn’t hear it. But it’s futile, the pavement where he is stepping cracks a dark cloud of static and shadows trail after him. He definitely heard and felt the implications of these words.

“Al.. Al!” you scream running after your lover.

Fuck, you’re still in heels, and those aren’t your running heels.

Kicking the damned shoes off you run faster, you cry harder and plead faster.

When you lived, your life always felt a bit surreal, weird stuff happened to you that you couldn’t really explain. People always joked that screenwriters of your life were the most creative people alive, the thing that happened to you never happened to anyone else. You died young, with a big, full life ahead of you, but you took this as gospel to your afterlife, after all everything related to your death was a mystery to you. But the things that happened to you living or dead were a raw reality impossible to make up.

The uncertainty of your death only fuels your resolve to fight for the life you found in the afterworld.

“Al, wait!” you are starting to get truly desperate, you need to get to him otherwise you are pretty certain you will drop dead here and now.

“Alastor please, please listen to me” your voice failing, you finally choking from the smoke, from the suppressed tears. If Alastor doesn’t hear you now you are not sure you can carry on after him, you’re too tired too scared. You him to save you like the damsel in distress you are right now so bad.

Alastor dramatically comes to a halt.

“I. am. Not. Having. This. Conversation. Here.” his voice is staggered, still. Filled with static and a murderous edge to it. His long arms catch your wrist and pull you close, flush against his chest, you almost stumble but a powerful arm around your waist locks you tight to him.

It’s the first touch in seven years, your legs shake at the realization that he’s real, he’s here. You lock your arms around his neck, the familiar fabric of his overcoat, the soft strands of his hair, they all feel like coming home.

Something inside Alastor snaps when he remembers, when he feels how small you are in comparison to him, only one arm securing you safely to him. Some paradoxical fight starts inside him, wild wild want, wild wild rage against tameness, the docile calm you bring whenever you are at his side.

The world disappears for a few seconds as darkness engulfs both of you, inside the black moving vacuum only the two of you exist, greeting each other in bloody homecoming.

Alastor takes you back to the Hotel, landing with a low thump inside his room. For a second his hand supports the small of your back, preventing you from falling forward. After all it’s been 7 years since you shadowtravelled with him, he knows you are terribly out of practice.

His consideration towards you only lasts this precious second thought, because he makes his way across the room, creating as much distance as he can between the two of you. Your touch disarms him, he is aware of that since the first time your hand brushed against his, the first time his lips ghosted on top of your knuckles. If Alastor is touching you he is extremely likely to get soft, to remember how much you mean to him, what you do to him, so he will be merciful. And right now the last thing the deer demon wants is to be disarmed, to show you mercy. He can feel your betrayal burning inside his veins, clouding his judgment with ire and jealousy.

Alastor doesn’t fight those feelings, on the contrary, he lets them take him by storm adding fuel to his already bad temper. That’s the only way he can face you now, that’s the only way he can make you understand.

You don’t get any time to gather your bearings, from the corner of your eye you notice a forest. His room is bigger on the inside and has a fucking conservation area but that’s hardly the most pressing matter at the moment. The pressing matter at the moment is that you are getting whiplash from touching your demon lover for the first time in seven years and his subsequent refusal to touch you, stationing himself across the room to you.

Why isn’t he with you? by your side as you ride the shockwaves of today together? You are scared, but above all you feel overwhelming sadness.

“How did it happen?” he finally snaps, breaking the deafening silence. It’s the first time Alastor regards you, directly, in 7 years and the weight his words bare is so heavy you wish for more of the silence. “Tell me, how did it happen?” his eyes are wild, dangerously close to radio dials.

“How did it happen? You tell me Alastor! You left me, you fucking left me!” you wish you could be your usually articulated self, you rehearsed this conversation so many times in your mind and in none of them you started with such venom on your lips. But it has been too long, and maybe the poison from all those years alone and afraid beside Vox drips through.

The Radio Demon sees the tears that fall profusely from your big doe eyes, and they sting more than an acclaimed torturer like him could have anticipated. Alastor finds himself still disarmed, because with every single glistening tear that falls he can see how hurt, how scared you are. He is the only one allowed to make you scared, he owns your fear.

But that’s the problem isn’t it? He owns nothing. Vox does. And that realization turns him back to feeling seething rage.

“So my mere absence is enough to change your devotion? Is me being here the only thing that stopped you from falling into his arms?” more poison. By the end of the night you both will choke on it.

“Al.. Al” you are sobbing now, your throat tightens and it’s hard to breath it’s hard to speak. “ I had to do it. You don’t get it, you don’t get it.” your voice breaks “hemademedoit, hemademedoit!!”. You swallow half the words, whimpering, as if you say it fast enough the action will quickly become the past, as if the memories won’t haunt you. And yet the memories flood your mind

A dim-lit room, the smell of blood and something burning.

“He is gone baby, and he isn’t coming back”

Electricity makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

A stranger’s hand pushes the hair to the side of your face, dread creeps up inside of you.

“This is the only way my dear, the best decision you can make”

The same stranger’s hand grab you by the waist

“I’m the only one who can protect you now, you know that right?”

eyes that make you freeze, it’s hard to think. eyes that make it hard to say no.

“If this is hard for you, you can pretend that I’m him”

a wrong type of static pricks your lips

“This won’t hurt”

a shockwave hits your body and it feels like you are being split open

You have to steady yourself on the closest piece of furniture. You cower as the repressed memories from the night you finally gave in to Vox assault your mind, trying to make yourself as small as possible, like he is coming back to do it all again. Cries and incoherent words leave your lips and you don’t know if you actually said what happened or if this entire time you have just been crying. You entire body hurts as you hyperventilate “Al, I’m so sorry” you whisper

That’s what undoes Alastor, you curling yourself in a ball, defeated and scared at the ghost of the man he hates. You looking away from him like you are undeserving of him, of his punishment, of his love. Like you are tainted. Alastor can’t make the exact words of your confession about how it happened, but he heard enough. Vox would never make you come to him willingly, Alastor knows that. Whatever Vox did - and Alastor has a lot of ideas of what he did - he will pay double for it.

Alastor’s blackened heart shatters when he calls your name and you don’t look up to meet his eyes, like you always do. He was always your lantern for when you were drowning. He meant to break you, hurt you like that. He just wanted to make you come to him, beg for his forgiveness, beg him to soothe the pain.

“Mon coeur, my sweet darling doe you are safe” Alastor voice goes so soft it hurts “Don’t fret, it’s in the past, it’s over, you are safe with me now as you are meant to be” he coos.

Still, you can’t read your lover’s mind. So you don’t know his heart is shattered, you don’t know how much he loathes himself for letting this get this far. You are so caught up on your own feelings, reeling the rage and the memories that you miss the softness of his voice and his outstretched hard and you inevitably choke on the poison.

“No. No!” you snap “You don’t get to say that. You have no right to say that!” you scream as you get up “I’m not safe, I will never be safe because you weren’t there to protect me, you promised Alastor, you fucking promised” the poison is now inside you, heartstopping waves of hurt consume your body and sprit. Right now the same burning passion that makes you heart beat for Alastor makes you hate him too. You were never good with ugly feelings, you always pride yourself for being soft to be strong. Your kindness and act of rebellion during the hellish reality you lived. You were never good with bad feelings, so you do something you never thought you’d do.

You shove the Radio Demon, that man you love so much it drives you to insanity. You shove him because the shame is too much, all the ugly feelings ball up inside, convincing you that you don’t deserve him, that you already lost him. And you won’t survive his dismissal.

You never talked back to him, you never raised your voice. Not because you were afraid to, but because you never had to, hence the reason why Alastor is so taken aback that your pitiful attempt of violence actually moves him from where he was standing.

Alastor shoves you back, pushing you up against the wall with a searing kiss. He kisses you like you are his last chance at salvation, like he wants to be redeemed. He licks your lips as you struggle to catch your breath, pushing his hips hard against your core, making you straddle him. Alastor doesn’t grant you a moment of reprieve, his lips come crashing down on yours again, his tongue inside your mouth dancing to a madman’s tune. He does what he does best, he takes and takes and takes. He takes your breath away, he takes all the callous words that threaten to leave your lips, aimed at him.

You succumb to your demon lover, your nails dig into his skin and he moans inside your mouth, he bites your lips enough to draw blood. In the end Alastor is still Alastor, and of course he gets all hot and bothered when fighting. You feel delirious with the taste of his lips, your blood and your salty tears mixing together, an unholy ambrosia. His hardness press just the right way to make you sing creating a current of desire after a seven year long drought.

His hands are quick, ridding up your shirt making he grab your ass and then your hips, strong enough to bruise. His clawed finger is already tweaking your nipple that way he knows you love. Your bravado melts, in perfect synchrony to when he sinks his teeth deep into your neck, drinking everything: that wretched poison that tarnished your words, the sacred warmth of your blood. You moan his name like a prayer that he promptly answers, he’s kissing you like a drowning man again, your blood on his lips painting your lips red like you both just drank from the holy grail, his hand cups your other breast and you vow to never speak to him like that again, only if it’s gonna get you up against the wall like that with him.

And then he stops.

“I hope this kiss haunts you” he says, voice still drunk with desire, low and threatening. He swiftly moves you off him, walking away and creating the same distance from when this all started “haunts your every breath, finds its way inside your every waking moment until you are mad with regret”

You are bewildered, eyes widening in disbelief. What is he doing? How can he go from 0 to a 100 so fast?

“I hope this kiss haunts you, so you never forget that you were the only woman who ever had me at the palm of her hand and you decided to throw it all away with that calamitous cynicism of yours.”

So that’s what’s happening. You can never expect to beat a master at his own game, Alastor is still cruel when he is merciful. When push comes to shove he will always win. There’s only so far you can get with taunting his repentance, playing with his heart laid bare at your feet, filled with sorrow and begging for forgiveness. He was ready to apologize, to dry your tears and soothe your fears, worshiping your delicious body and the ground you walked on. He was ready to admit that this was half his fault until your venom stung him beyond the realm of spoken word.

“I understand it now, it must be hard for you to cope with your own decisions, your own failings, so you take it all on me. I hope you remember this when you come back to beg, on your knees for my forgiveness. And trust me, you will.” Of course Alastor would torture you with the knowlodge of his guilt and despair, the loss of his benevolence, the promise of desire and carnality. He will always be a torturer at heart, and you forgot that’s the first rule you need to always remember when dealing with him.

“You’ve got your demons darling” never was your precious pet name said with such disdain. Static starts to gather around you, and in a flash his hand is on your neck

“and they all, Look. Like. Me” his voice is distorted when he finishes cursing you, there’s a tempest behind his eyes that entraps you, the burning red of his irises condemn you.

The Radio demon is a raging fire, an oncoming storm. But he is also meticulous, cruel and calculating, if you dared to question him, to step on the grace he gladly gave you, you clearly were aware of everything he did to lull his absence. All the plans and contingencies he made to hush your worrying thoughts about him and bathe your threshing heart on tranquiline waters.

And you decided to mock it. To mock him and his love for you.

You are crying again, but this time Alastor is fucking glad he was the one to hurt you, to reduce you to a mess of regret and tears.

Tonight in Hell, power shifts from one Overlord to another. Sinners plan and freak out accordingly.

But their machinations are all meaningless.

The 7 years you spent away from Alastor made you sad, the three years spent on Vox’s side made you bitter. The V’s operate on poison, it’s their fuel. And maybe the poison drips through.

Tonight you drank the poison and it broke you.

Tonight, for the first time, the poison broke Alastor too.

#HEY BUNNY ANON THIS ONE IS FOR YOU I NEVER FORGET A REQUEST I TAKE 5 MONTHS BUT I DONT FORGET IT #alastor x reader #alastor x reader smut #alastor x you #alastor fanfic #hazbin hotel x reader #the radio demon x you #im insaneeeeeeeee #baixaria #im sorry everyone #alastor #the radio demon #hazbin hotel fic

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pennyserenade · 2 months

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crimson & clover | neil lewis x reader

summary | what begins as a innocent night at the club turns into something a bit more adventurous for you and the man who owns your favorite movie store. rating | (explicit) tags/warnings | alcohol mention, smut, explicit smut, fingering, semi-public sex, praise, unprotected, dirty talk (non degrading), neil is lovely! polite and respectful! word count | 2.8k+ a/n | i put on a 2000s club playlist and got to work. this is not beta'd because life is crazy but i hope you enjoy it. i dedicate this to @burt-reynolds, for all of her lovely 2000s aesthetics and her lovely vibes, and @theredviper for being so supportive and lovely always.

“Holy shit,” Neil mutters, his eager fingers gripping tightly onto your hips.

A thrum of music carries from outside the bathroom, where you’ve both left your respective friend groups in the haze of your alcohol infused ardor. As Neil lines your hips up to his clothed crotch, you make eye contact in the cloudy mirror above the sink. His gray blue eyes glow under the harsh lighting - wet and earnest as one of his hands trails to your backside, drawing up your short skirt. The heart pendant on your neck dangles dangerously close to the porcelain as he pushes your legs further apart, knocking one with his knee as a soft groan falls from his lips. The heat his body emits onto your own is enough to make you let out a shaky breath.

You told yourself you wouldn’t do this. Swore to it, in fact. It was the thing your friends constantly got at you for--the way you’d stop at Neil’s store twice a week, flirt with either him or Jonathan, and come out with your movies half price. You weren’t ever supposed to fuck one of them. It was contrary to your entire relationship, giving him what you were supposed to tease forever. But God, you couldn’t help it—not tonight.

When you had entered the club, Neil had already been there with Jonathan, but you hadn’t seen him until about thirty minutes in. Over the sound of intoxicated voices trying to speak over one another and loud, pulsing music, you’d locked eyes. It had begun as an innocuous greeting - a slight nod of your heads and demure smiles, nothing more. But there’d been more drinks and more talking, and your two friend groups drew closer together as the night went on.

It had happened when Jonathan had his hand on your friend’s thigh and his tongue down her throat. You and Neil were standing awkwardly next to them, pretending you weren’t in the presence of two people who were treading dangerously close to fucking in a public space. Neil held a beer in his hand, his face flushed from the heat and most likely the drink, and you were working your way slowly through another Vodka cranberry. He’d said something you couldn’t hear and when you asked him to repeat it, he did - drawing his face nearer to your own. The setting invited your next actions: his lips on yours, the drinks abandoned on the sticky countertop of your table in favor of touching each other.

He fumbles with his jeans behind you now, the clack of his belt making your heart thud. “I don’t usually do this,” you giggle, hanging your head to look at him behind. His blunt fingers work diligently, pushing down his pants to his knees. You smile; the blue of his boxers does little to conceal his erection.

You look back to the mirror. He gives you a boyish smile, warm and lopsided, before reaching down between your bodies and sliding your thong to the side.

“Mm,” he says, caging his bottom lip between his teeth. In a gruff voice, he adds, “God, you’re fucking glistening, baby. Look at you. Just—“ His fingers part your lips, his eyebrows disappearing beneath his fringe as he coats his fingers with your slick, “look at that.”

The rich baritone of his voice coaxes unheard levels of confidence out of you; canting your hips back, you draw his fingers over your core, giving him unexpressed permission to enter you with the two fingers he’s been working through your cunt. The mirror gives you access to his features, impervious to propriety as they are: the sheen of sweat on his temples, the twist of his freckled lips, the slow bob of his throat as he teases a finger around your hole. You clench around the idea of him and he is good enough to sink a single finger in. With his other hand, he props your hips up.

In the mirror, you meet each other. The sweet, endearing nerd you had twisted your hair for in the video store is suddenly transformed into the stuff of romance books. Or a Hitchcock film. Yeah - Neil would like that reference. A positively Hitchcockian experience, the smolder of desire flashing dangerously in his eyes, like Gregory Peck with Ingrid Bergman in Spellbound. Like Cary Grant in—

“Oh.” Your nails grip onto the sink as his other hand slips down your front. Thrusting his thick finger slowly out of you, he presses two fingers over your clit, his cool lips grazing over your exposed shoulder. In this position - with his one hand focused on your clit and the other on your core - Neil’s body is completely enveloping your own. The poke of his erection on your ass is inspiring - not that you really need any inspiration. His fingers are more skilled than they have the right to be, curling inside of you, finding every nerve along your walls as he brushes, teasingly, over your sensitive clit.

When you think it can’t get any better — your body leaning back invitingly into his own, your mouth dry and desperate, the peak of your desire building and building, Neil enters another finger. His warm tongue finds a sensitive spot of your neck, and you grip the sink with renewed ferocity, feeling a dangerous, overwhelming sensation grip you.

“Oh, Neil,” you gasp, fingers carding through his hair, “I’m gonna—it feels like I might pee if you keep doing that.”

The groan that escapes his mouth, swiping hotly against the flesh of your neck, is positively guttural. “Fuck, you’re so goddamn warm and wet—“ his teeth scrap over your neck, “And you keep pressing your ass into my cock. Can hardly bear to stop this.”

He provides some alleviation by removing his hand from your clit, but he hones in on your cunt, gliding his fingers gently alongside your walls. Even through the sound of music, you can hear yourself — can hear the way your cunt beckons him in, welcomes the intrusion of him, despite your body so desperately feeling close to the point of exploding.

“Neil!” you call out with urgency, knowing you’re close to doing something you’re not prepared to. He relents when you reach behind, gripping onto his wrist, pleading. The absence of his fingers is noticeable as soon as he retracts them, but as you work at steadying your breath you feel somewhat grateful.

Smiling with a satisfied look in his eyes, he rests his dampened digits on your hips, and brings his lips to your ear. You watch him in the mirror, noting the glossy shine of your lips as he whispers, “God, you’re so fucking hot. I’ve wanted to do that—to do this—for so long. Thought about it—“ he drops his lips to spot behind your ear, murmuring, “—every time you’d come in.”

A slight return of his boyishness manifests itself in the lilt of his voice.

“Me too,” you reply, awed.

He grabs hold of your ass, pressing you lightly into the sink from the force of it. The coolness of the porcelain on the warmth of your exposed flesh makes you hiss through your teeth.

“Never thought this would actually happen, you know?” he says. It’s so genuine you can’t help the way a smile finds its way to your lips. He matches it with his own, looking every bit like the Neil you’ve known for months. But you don’t want that Neil—not now. You want a Neil who will fuck you from behind.

You grab a tuft of his hair as he gropes at your ass.

“I always imagined you fucking me over the counter like this,” you tell him purposefully, voice faux innocent. He hums, delighted by your words—you feel it in the way he’s begun to gently rock it into you. You drive the point further, pressing against him as you watch your mirrored reflections. Your eyes grow lidded, seducing. “Need your cock so bad, Neil,” you whisper.

He whimpers when you reach behind yourself, your hand on his cock. It’s the sweetest sound, but only half as good as the way his body lurches into your touch. He doesn’t need to say it for you to understand: he wants you this badly, too. It doesn’t take him long to reach for the band of his underwear, pushing them down to his ankles with his pants.

Wrapping his hand around your jaw, Neil guides your mouth to his. You arch into him, turning your head to meet his lips better. The resulting moan that you get when you lick into his mouth travels through you both. A string of saliva hangs between you as you part, detaching only when he says, “I’m gonna fuck you now, baby, just the way you wanted.”

You like him like this. It thrills you to know he exists in this form, that for all of his nervousness when you made pointed eye contact and shamelessly flirted at his store, he isn’t hesitant to be crude. You expected it of his friend, but this—it’s beyond what you could have imagined.

You watch as he focuses, the shadows of the bathroom painting over his face while he brings his cock to your entrance. Your fingers grip on the sink; already you can tell he is thick, that even though he has readied you, it will be a stretch.

Smirking, he looks back up to you. He is so achingly good looking, all sharp features, those stunning eyes of his lighting with a deep want. He swallows harshly as you share a moment, the head of his cock at your entrance, his fingers pressing into your hip, but nothing yet happening. You nod, and that is all the encouragement he needs; he presses in, a slow, careful motion.

As expected, it is a bit of a stretch. Wet as you are, it takes him a moment to work himself inside. Every careful inch of the way, you feel him: his veins against your walls, the fullness of him inside of you, the pleasure-pain of having to adjust to him. You worry your lip between your teeth in an attempt to stop a whine from falling out. From behind you, Neil looks positively blissed out as his hips draw nearer to your ass. He groans, looking at the place where your bodies connect.

“God, you’re so big,” you groan, reaching behind to touch the hand he has on your hip.

He sucks in a breath through his teeth as he slides back into. You can tell he is attempting to establish a rhythm, some place between his pleasure and yours. You can hardly stand it. You can feel the slick between your thighs, can sense just how badly your body wants him by how it welcomes him. You need him faster.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he mutters, licking his lips. He begins to draw you back into him, moving you on his cock with the guidance of your hips. His eyes flash to the mirror, and you know immediately what it is he’s looking at: your tits, the way they bounce over the edge of your shirt as you move. The longer he watches, the quicker his hips begin to move, seemingly spurred on by the simple motion.

His hand slides up your shirt, stroking your skin, until he is skirting his fingers underneath your bra. Once again, he draws you closer to his chest. This time he presses his lips next to your ear. “So tight, baby,” he growls. “Taking me so fuckin’ good. Look at you. So—so fuckin’ pretty, sliding back on my cock.”

You can tell he’s trying hard not to lose himself. You wrap an arm around his neck, adjusting. In this position, he pushes more deeply into you, his cock rutting against the top of your walls just right.

Neil rolls over your nipple with his thumb, and his tongue licks a sensitive patch on your neck as you slide back into him again. You’ve both begun to move faster, your movements desperate. He is no longer so concerned about his limits, too caught up in the ease with which your cunt takes him, and how delightfully you mewl each time he bottoms out in you.

The length of his thrusts begin to grow shorter. He barely lifts you off of him before drawing you back, his eyes once more to your chest. Even in the dim lighting, you can tell he’s got a heavy blush spreading across his cheeks—that he’s nearing completion with each unsteady thrust he pushes into you. Before it’s too late, you decide to touch yourself, reaching between your legs fingers to rub over your sensitive clit in the small space he’s put between you and the sink. He latches on to the sight almost immediately, hooked on the image of you as he is.

“Fuck,” he hums, almost reverently, drawing up the front of your skirt. You squirm against him, whimpering, and he nods. “Yeah, like that. Squeezing me so good, honey.”

A bit more roughly than you thought him capable of, Neil yanks the top of your bra down, exposing your tits. As you reach nearer to finishing, the desire in the pit of your stomach becomes nearly palpable. Neil uses one hand to play with your nipples again. His thrusts slow, becoming more purposeful. “Come for me,” he encourages, voice like Heaven, all low and rich, honey on your skin. You circle your clit faster, spurred on, wanting to pleasure him.

As the orgasm happens, the warm flush of it hitting you everywhere, he moans. A few earnest laughs fall out of his mouth too, as if he can’t believe he’s coaxed you to it.

“Fuck, I can feel it—fuck, yeah, baby,” he groans, his speed picking up. You let go of his neck, falling forward again. You’re so overcome with pleasure that when you hit the sink, the pain doesn’t even register. He thrusts inside of you, pressing you down into the porcelain. The bathroom is filled with the echoes of your bodies slapping against one another, even over the club music, and it’s so good, so delicious, evident in the etches of your faces as he finds his release.

Neil exits you without warning a few pumps later, his warm seed spelling over the back of your thighs. He gasps softly, burying himself in the crook of your neck. You’re both sweaty, the air thick around you, but still he wraps himself around you. In truth, you find it endearing, the way his arms wrap around you, how you can feel the quick thud, thud, thud of his heart against your back as you collect yourself.

When you come back to yourselves, Neil rubs an affectionate hand over your arm, meeting your eye in the mirror. “Sorry,” he says, sounding a bit sheepish. He gestures down to your thighs. “I didn’t—it just happened so quickly. I forgot to ask where I should."

You laugh softly, taking in the state of both in the mirror. Half of your makeup is smudged off, and your lips are puffy, and you’ve done a number on his hair, the back wild and mussed up from running your fingers through it. You’re both blown up pupils and uncaring, eager smiles, too, like teenagers who’ve just discovered sex. “It’s okay,” you assure. “I had fun.”

He squeezes your hip, grinning widely. “Me too. I was wondering–uh.” His nose scrunches and you can tell he’s returned to himself full force. There’s a waver in his voice and a blush on his cheek that’s not just residue from the sex, which is awfully reminiscent of each encounter you’ve had with him at his movie store. “I don’t fuck in bathrooms a lot either, so I’m unsure if this is breaking any of the pillow talk rules…”

He looks to you for assurance, and you smile, waiting patiently. He smiles weakly. “You wanna go to dinner with me sometime next week, maybe?” he asks.

It doesn’t take long for you to form a response. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Really?” He seems surprised.

“Yeah. It’s not every day a man fucks in you in a club bathroom and then ask you to dinner after. You’ve intrigued me.”

His dimples appear. “I’m glad because there’s a pizza place by the store that I love, and the owners have begun to ask me when I’m going to get a girlfriend. Even if it doesn’t work out between us, I think that’ll hold them off for a while.”

The laugh that you let out seems to come from within you, a delighted, true sound.

This won’t be so bad, you realize. There’s only one thing better than half priced movies and flirting with the man who owns the movie store: free ones and fucking him.

#watching the detectives #neil lewis #cillian murphy #neil lewis x reader #watching the detectives fanfic #cillian murphy fanfic #neil lewis smut #cillian murphy smut #neil lewis x you #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy x reader

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r1-jw-lover · 1 year

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Chapters: 1/?

Fandom: John Wick (Movies)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Characters: Akira (John Wick), Original Female Character(s), Original Female Character(s) of Color, Original Male Character(s), Original Male Character(s) of Color, Minor Characters

Additional Tags: Assassins & Hitmen, Spies & Secret Agents, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Blood and Injury, mentions of John Wick, Mentions of Koji Shimazu, Mentions of Caine, Criminal Organisations, Yakuza, Triads, Japan, Hong Kong, China, Action, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

Summary:

After the raid at the Osaka Continental, Akira sets on a quest to reclaim the hotel and avenge her father.

The events begins right after Akira steps out of John Wick's train and takes place concurrently with the Berlin & Paris acts in John Wick Chapter 4.

#non sw #john wick chapter 4 #john wick 4 #jw4 #jw4 spoilers #akira shimazu #akira john wick #akira #john wick fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #a03 #a03 fanfic #my fic #self promo #not beta read #not beta'd

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ivystoryweaver · 6 months

Text

3 Times Jake Lockley Tried to Kill You and 1 Time He Saved Your Life

Part 1 of 5 - Knife

Miniseries Masterlist || Main Masterlist || next

Pairing: Jake Lockley x f!reader

Summary: Jake has been hired to assassinate you - the daughter of Chicago's most powerful and corrupt man

Or: If at first you don't succeed, try, try again.

Word Count: 2.5k

Content: nsfw, mdni, more below the cut, READ the warnings. Dead dove - you will get what is warned!

There is no non-con in this fic, but it's dark in the sense that the reader IS in real danger from Jake. Violence, language, stalking, blood, knife play, also actual knife use - like for its intent - stabbing, danger, sexy dreams, glove kink, masturbation, not beta'd

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

The second time Jake saw you up close, he darkly chuckled to himself at how easy of a mark you were.

Everyone in his line of work knew who you were - the beautiful daughter of the most powerful man in the city. And your father had endless enemies.

Including the one who hired Jake to take you out. Jake's boss was a lot of things, but he wasn't stupid. To assassinate the most powerful mob boss' only daughter required someone removed from the situation. Someone professional. Invisible.

Jake wasn't stupid either. There wasn't enough money in this city to lure him into crossing your father.

No, this was plain, old fashioned revenge. So maybe Jake's boss was stupid - this was personal, for Jake anyway.

So tonight, as he saw you walking out of a club with your girlfriends, your inept bodyguards flanking you, he sneered.

You had style - that, Jake had to admit. Your dress fit you like a glove, but landed an inch or so longer than your obvious minions’ skirts. The girls around you were trying too hard. You didn’t have to.

They flocked to your power and your money (or your father's), but the attempt was desperate, at best.

But you held yourself with a self-assurance and something Jake had no idea he was interested in until he'd started tailing you: class.

Your eyes shone as your laughter rang out into the night. You must’ve been a little tipsy, if the glow of your cheeks was any indication.

The bodyguards - who Jake mentally referred to as Dumb and Dumber - ushered the small group of you into a waiting car.

Jake thought about it: driving you. Using his day (or night) job to get close to you. Too complicated. You had a faithful driver, well paid, who had shuttled you around the city practically all your life. Then, of course there were Dumb and Dumber and the other girls to...dispose of.

So no driving. Not this time.

You rarely ventured out alone, but Jake had discovered your quietest moments. You lived in a hotel, actually - one of your father's - in a penthouse, with, at least, adequate security.

So, no home invasion. That made Jake feel like a creep anyway, and he wasn't a creep. He was a professional.

He found the easiest access to you would likely come during one of your early morning jogs in the park, or while you liked to shop or run errands during the day.

In fact, he walked right by you just yesterday.

That was the first time he saw you up close.

You were even more beautiful up close.

Yesterday, he simply wanted to see if Dumb and Dumber would notice how close he got. He was also checking out the lack of security cameras in the park.

He had to do this right. And even then, he would flee afterward. He hated this city anyway.

Fucking Chicago. Every horrible thing in his life went wrong in this city. New York never treated him so poorly. And besides, the alter in his head preferred life across the pond. So, finishing this job would be the perfect excuse to never return.

So the next morning, he arrived in the park before sunrise. Sure enough, you came jogging round the corner, an unsafe number of strides ahead of Dumb and Dumber. Or...it was only Dumber this time. One bodyguard? Seriously, this was too easy.

All it took was a gloved hand around your mouth and a knife to your ribs to get you where he wanted you, into the dense thicket, away from prying eyes.

You struggled, but Jake’s experience won out. He used the tip of his knife to inflict the slightest twinge of pain.

"I can make this almost painless," he breathed on your ear.

You whimpered, angry with yourself for going limp in his arms as you felt the pinch of pain in your ribs.

However, you're weren't stupid either. If he wanted to kill you, he would have dragged that blade across your jugular with your mouth still covered. You would bleed out silently and he would have plenty of time to escape before your bodyguard found you.

His annoying poke to your ribs and striking up a conversation meant he wanted something else and that's why you shuddered. This was a kidnapping or an assault. Or he was a sick freak who wanted to play with his food first.

He whirled you around and pushed you up against a tree, crowding in front of you, with your mouth still covered.

The tree's bark scraped against your bare legs, but cold, dark eyes which - under different circumstances, might have captivated you - momentarily distracted you.

Distinguished nose - mouth set in a thin line, strong, square jaw with a beard - well kempt. Dark brown curls peeked out of a flat cap. He almost looked like something out of the 1930's when you really thought about it.

Which...given the circumstances, why in the hell were you thinking about his looks?

Finding your courage, you tried to speak against his gloved hand. He positioned the knife at your throat - finally a more useful spot - and breathed against your cheek. "Scream and it'll be your last word, doll."

You nodded quickly, trying to blink back the moisture in your eyes. Your father was going to end this asshole, but you might suffer mightily first.

Slowly, Jake removed his hand, keeping it close to your mouth in case you got any ideas.

"Why didn't you just cut my throat?" You gasped, your chest heaving, drawing his eyes momentarily down to the fit of your sports bra and your chest, glistening with a light sheen of sweat.

"Are you offering suggestions?" One dark eyebrow shot up, almost comedically.

"It would be the quickest and quietest way," you confessed, shrugging one shoulder. "I'm just trying to see what I'm in for. You want me to beg or something? Cry? Just tell me and get it over with."

Jake chucked.

Oh. So he was a condescending asshole. Awesome.

Still, he didn't taunt you or threaten you, which probably meant ... damn it.

"Aw hell, you're a pervert then?" You scoffed. "I'm not a virgin, if that's what you're hoping."

That puzzled your captor, but only for a moment. " - no," he scoffed. "That's not something I have to...coerce."

You rolled your eyes, but made sure to keep still because that knife tip was starting to dig into your throat. "I'm sure you're a real catch. Just get this over with. My bodyguard will be here soon."

The corner of Jake's mouth curled. "Trust me, I'm not worried about him."

You shivered slightly, realizing he'd done his homework. "What do you want?" You managed, a little more desperately than you were hoping to sound.

"Revenge," he evenly responded

You locked eyes and saw honesty there.

You slightly nodded, swallowing hard as his breath ghosted your cheek.

"W-what did I do to you?"

Jake's eyes darkened as he pulled the blade from your throat and positioned it right over your heart.

"Your father killed my brother."

Wetting your lips, you whispered, "I'm sorry. I-I don't know anything about that."

"'Course you don't," Jake sneered. "But your father does."

"So I have to pay for your brother's life with my own?" You hurriedly reasoned. "You think that will make my father suffer the way you have? There's no way. I don't even think he loves me." Your voice was now dripping with panic, but Jake started to admire the way you fired off protests.

"Nice try," Jake scoffed. "Everyone knows you're daddy's pride and joy. You're the only way to his heart."

"Then do it," you spat. "I hate all this Criminal Minds villain discourse bullshit. Just put us both out of our misery."

"Villain?" Jake huffed. "I'm the villain? Your father has corrupted this entire city! And you benefit from every cent and every life he takes. You're the villain - both of you."

"Then what are you fucking waiting for?" You hissed, jerking against him, causing the knife to slip and slice your chest.

"Shit!" You cried out, your hands flying to cover your wound, which was only superficial, but still hurt like hell.

The gloved hand clamped back over your mouth as the knife tip dragged down your sternum to just under your ribs once more. Without hesitation, he pushed the blade into your abdomen.

You screamed into his hand, tears streaming down your face. Your body flamed with searing pain as you went limp in his arms.

"Shhh, shh, sweetheart. It's only enough to slow you down. You'll live. Promise."

And he fucking left you there.

With his knife inside you.

Oh your father was going to crucify this asshole.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

You spent hardly any time at all in the hospital - the wound was so insignificant. Still, you were stabbed so it warranted medical attention and your father was furious. He attempted to double security around you and forbade you from leaving your penthouse.

You indulged him for a day or so but you weren't one to be caged. He'd made your life enough of a living hell. You felt scared all the time, always a pressure point for him - a bargaining chip for his enemies.

You didn't tell him about the bouquet of tulips you received from your attacker, with a note that read, 'Did you keep what I left inside you?'

The next day, gardenias arrived with another note. 'I'll show you how to use it sometime.'

Okay, so maybe you were stupid. Because instead of turning the notes over to your father, or even the police (not likely), you kept them to yourself.

The most intriguing thing about this mystery man was how he was managing to get these flowers and notes past your (obviously shit) security.

You dreamed.

He's pinned you up against the tree. His gloved hand applies pressure to your throat. The tip of his knife blade traces lightly over your bottom lip, before he drags it down the smooth column of your throat. He trails down your chest, raking it between your breasts before slicing right through your sports bra. Your breasts spring free and his eyes darken. He grazes your nipple with the blade - the cool metal electrifying your peak, making it go stiff.

His grip on your throat loosens as he pushes gloved fingers up over your jaw and slips his leather clad digits into your mouth. His eyes find yours again as you obediently suck without being asked.

He pushes his fingers to the back of your throat, gagging you, which makes him smirk.

Then he surprises you by taking his hand out of your mouth and pushing the hilt of the knife into your palm.

"Hold this for me, baby," he instructs, roughly shoving his sopping wet glove - wet with your spit - into your tight leggings, slipping them between your already soaked folds.

Your hand shakes as you realize you have the power - you have the knife and you can get away. You can hurt him back, like he hurt you.

Without another thought, you jab the knife into his side, even as his gloved thumb circles your clit.

"That's my girl," he pants as blood pools and spills through his crisp, white dress shirt. You yank the knife back out, puzzled, but your brain is starting to short-circuit from the wildest fingerfucking you've ever experienced.

You try to whisper his name, wondering if he'll be okay, but you realize - you don't even know his name. You have no inkling whose fingers are stuffed inside your cunt, even as you grind down on his palm, riding his glove like a toy.

You woke up covered in sweat, slick heat pooled between your legs even as your belly filled with shame.

Without another thought, you reached into your nightstand drawer for the knife he left inside you.

You yanked your nightgown aside, gently running the cool metal over your nipples, just the way he'd done in your dream.

You shoved your fingers into your mouth, just like he had, and once they were sopping you slid them into your silky panties and rubbed your clit furiously.

"Oh god," you moaned, writhing, carefully scraping the knife across your other nipple before a nasty idea formed. You used the knife handle and pushed it down over your clit with two fingers of the opposite hand stuffed inside you.

You felt wrong - disgusted with yourself. The man wasn't being sexy - this wasn't some fantasy of a dangerous man in the woods. He had no interest in you. He threatened you - stabbed you, for fuck's sake. Who knew what else he was capable of? He could've taken advantage of your body or sliced your throat.

And now he'd sent the flowers and messages. So he was probably a stalker. This would escalate and be dragged out, just like you'd wanted to avoid.

He was probably watching you right now.

...which, to your utter shame made you feral.

You moaned so loudly, you were sure your bodyguards would rush in.

"Can you see me?" You panted, repulsed with yourself, but so close, rubbing the blunt end of the knife faster and faster over your clit as you shoved your fingers as deep as they would go.

One more thought of that horrible man plunging his knife in you and your back arched euphorically as a powerful orgasm wracked your body - as good as any with your array of top-of-the-line toys.

As you lay there panting, wondering how you would rid yourself of this shameful new obsession - masturbating to a man who wanted revenge against your father - who attacked you and honestly, showed no real interest in you - you decided you needed a way to reach him.

He was able to get to you somehow, by sending you flowers and notes.

So the next day, you instructed your staff to return a wrapped, sealed box to whomever delivered flowers, and you paid handsomely to make sure the box got back to the sender.

It may never make it to the mystery man, but you had to try.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

"I told you - you can't come back here," Jake scolded the young delivery boy.

"Sorry, mister. That lady gave me a ton of money to bring this to you."

Fortunately, Jake had met up with this little idiot on a street corner and not near where he lived, nor near his car. He also used a false name.

It was risky enough sending things to you, but you got under his skin.

He knew this was all a bad idea. His boss wanted you dead and Jake wanted his revenge for Randall.

But here he was, behaving like a pathetic stalker, sending you flowers and creepy notes, bypassing your security.

And now you sent something back?

Jake pulled the lid from the box and almost choked. It was his knife. Something had...dried on the handle, along with what he could only assume was still your blood on the blade. And there was a handwritten note.

'I came on it.'

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Jake Lockley-Centric stories

Moon Knight Masterlist

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#moon knight #jake lockley #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley x f!reader #3 times fic

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obsessedwithtoomanythings · 1 year

Text

Anchor Up to Me, Love

Pairing: Alpha!Leon Kennedy x Omega!Reader

Warning: College AU, Knotting, Claiming Bites, Breeding Kink, Penis In Vagina Sex, Oral Sex, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, But Leon saves the day, cause we love him, Possessive Leon S. Kennedy, Protective Leon S. Kennedy, Violence, just a lil, Leon S. Kennedy Being a Little Shit, Leon S. Kennedy is a tease. Leon S. Kennedy is a Sweetheart, I slept for 2 hours last night cause of this, bon appétit, bone apple teeth, Leon Kennedy loves eating pussy change my mind, Loss of Virginity, Unprotected Sex, POV First Person

Words: 3.3K

A/N: I wrote this in one afternoon, it was not beta'd at all. I pulled this STRAIGHT out of my ass. THIS IS NSFW. IF YOU ARE A MINOR, PLEASE GO AWAY. Title from Anchor by Novo Amor.

The campus was buzzing with hyper energy, the students littering the quad as the weather finally warmed up enough for them to comfortably rest on the green grass. My sneakers slap against the concrete as I take a deep breath in, the fresh air mingling with the student’s scents and I can’t help but feel a twinge of loneliness at the sight of the couples sprawled across the area.

I have spent half my life terrified of everyone - especially alphas - since my father’s warning when I presented. “You need to be careful, pup. Alpha’s only want one thing. You don’t want to end up like your mother - God rest her soul.” The fear it caused has definitely contributed to my self induced isolation. The scent blockers stir in my stomach, and I place a hand over my gut softly as I continue to head toward the library. I couldn’t afford the textbook, and thankfully the library had a cheap copy, but it can only be used in the library. I huff in annoyance as I mount the stairs. I step into the air conditioned building, skin prickling beneath my tee shirt. Should have worn a sweater.

The library is huge, 3 floors of walls lined with books, and the loner in me cries out in joy at seeing how deserted the stacks are. Having memorized the way already, I walk toward where they keep the textbooks and I run my fingers across the bindings until I come across where my textbook should be. I glance around to see if it was maybe misplaced before I head to the front desk.

“Hi, I’m looking for the Understanding Earth textbook for Professor Fieldman’s class?” I ask, and the woman behind the counter looks up with a small smile.

“Oh, that’s a popular one today. There’s a young man in blue who asked for it maybe 10 minutes ago. He should be in one of the study rooms, I think Room C.” The one with the windows. I nod, glancing down at my phone for the time. That paper is due in 12 hours. I’ll have to suck it up and ask if he’s willing to share. I head up the stairs, the hushed whispers of students giggling on the second floor catches my attention as I rub my fingers over my arms to warm them. The straps of my backpack are becoming more and more noticeable the longer the bag rests on my shoulders, and the girls’ voices become audible. “Wasn’t he adorable? He’s in my criminology class. His scent is intoxicating.” I scoff at their words. I walk toward the closed oak door before lightly rapping my knuckles on the varnished surface, and I crack it open as I hear a voice speak. Please be a beta. Please be a beta. Please be a beta.

“Yeah?” The door opens a bit more and that’s when I see him, strong hands hovering over the keys of his laptop, bright blue eyes trained on me as I stand in the doorway, my cheeks probably red from embarrassment.

“Hi,” I say before introducing myself with my name. “I know this is probably weird, but Professor Fieldman assigned a paper due tonight and I need some sources. Would you mind if I shared the textbook with you?” I ask, definitely speaking too fast as the anxiety crawls up my throat, tasting an awful lot like bile. He chuckles and that’s when his scent hits my nose. Those girls weren’t lying. He smells like pine and citrus, which you wouldn’t normally assume would mix, but something about the way it mingles as it enters my nose, my whole body flushes,, and I wonder if it’s because of him being an alpha or just him in general.

“I’m Leon. Leon Kennedy. And no, I don’t mind at all,” he says kindly, scooting his chair over a bit and pushing the textbook closer to the chair next to him. I should not sit next to him. His scent is already almost overwhelming and I’ve been in here for all of 1 minute. I find myself walking forward as I hear the door close behind me and I sit down in the black mesh swivel chair next to Leon. He gives me a small smile before I realize he probably thinks I’m a beta. My scent blockers should be enough. When is my heat due again? I vaguely wonder as I slip my backpack onto the floor next to me and pull out my laptop, opening the document to this stupid paper. “The paper on your favorite mineral and its multitude of uses?” He asks, glancing at my screen and I nervously huff out a laugh.

“Yup. I went with obsidian.” I say as I look back at him. His eyes are like two pools of blue, oceans in their entirety and threatening to drag me under and drown me.

“Good choice. Quartz,” he points his thumb at himself with a small smile as he runs his fingers through his hair before training his eyes on his paper. We sit in comfortable silence for about 10 minutes before the first cramp shoots through my gut. I press a hand to the muscle, hoping pressure will relieve the ache before it increases. I tense up as I groan, dropping my head to the cool desk as my skin feels like it’s on fire. “Are you okay?” He asks, placing a hand on my back, and the warmth of his hand makes me release a very different kind of groan, which I try to muffle by clamping my teeth down on my bottom lip, so hard I may be drawing blood. Heat washes over me and I vaguely register that I am absolutely going into heat right here, next to this alpha I just met. I reach down for my phone to check, and that’s when I realize that I am a week early for my heat.

“I’m fine, I just need to go, I’m sorry,” I whisper, and I stand quickly, slamming my laptop closed much harder than I should before practically throwing it into my backpack, slinging the fabric over my shoulders before I feel a hand lightly wrap around my wrist, not restraining me, just… catching my attention.

“I’m sorry, I can go if you need the-” Leon trails off, his voice fading into silence as his eyes widen. “You’re an omega?” He asks, and I know my scent blockers aren’t very effective anymore. Not against a sudden onset of heat in the middle of the day. I nod smally, feeling tiny compared to this alpha, despite him still sitting down in his own chair. The place where his skin meets mine on my wrist tingles, sending sparks up and down my arm as I am suddenly extremely grateful that I didn’t wrap myself in a sweatshirt. I’d be sweating through it by now.

He squeezes his eyes shut tightly, taking a deep breath while facing away from me, as if he’s trying to compose himself before he speaks again. “Sorry, you’re just… You smell amazing…” He practically rasps, voice dropping to a painfully attractive octave. “I thought you were a beta when you walked in. You shouldn’t be out this close to your heat,” he mumbles, still unable to meet my eyes.

“I’m not due for a week. Trust me, I intend to go home,” I explain, and he nods as he lets go of my wrist. Without another word, I walk briskly to the door. I don’t breathe until I’m out in the fresh air, trying to wash Leon’s scent from my nose before I begin to practically sprint toward the parking lot where my car is. I’m almost there when I hear whistles behind me. Oh no.

“Where you going, pretty ‘mega?” My hands shake violently, slick pouring into the center of my panties due to the incoming heat, and I hear several sets of footsteps behind me. There are at least 3 of them. A cold hand lands on my shoulder and I yelp, dropping my keys to the tarmac as tears brim in my eyes. The alpha spins me around as his friends snigger behind him and his hard body presses me against the nearest vehicle, hands roaming over my jean covered thighs as the hot tears pour down my cheeks. His scent is vile, aggression and sweat wafting off of him in waves, and his nose runs along the column of my throat. “You smell so good, baby. How about you let me take care of your little problem?” His voice is gravely and harsh, tongue licking up my neck to taste my sweat. “God, I’m gonna knot you so-”

“Get the fuck off of her.” A voice says, and it takes my mind only moments to realize it’s Leon.

“Fuck off, finder’s keepers.” I squeeze my eyes closed so tightly that harsh colors flash across my darkened vision, and my hands push against his cotton tee shirt pointlessly.

“Then how about this?” The weight is gone, ripped from my body and I open my eyes to see that Leon has physically ripped the guy off of me and I watch as his body collides with the vehicle next to us, the white metal slightly dented from where his head hit before Leon’s fists tighten in his shirt, pressing him into the truck. “Touch my omega again, and you won’t be leaving unless it’s in a body bag.” Leon lets him go and we both watch as the alpha runs away, followed by his lackeys. If he had a tail, it’d be between his legs.

I sink to the ground, knees pressed to my chest and my hands press into the dark concrete. “Holy…”

“Are you okay?” Leon is there, crouching at my level. “They didn’t hurt you, did they?” I shake my head, hands twitching, begging me to reach out and touch him and I can’t stop them as one lands on his shoulder.

“I just want to feel safe... Can you hold me?” I whisper, and it’s only seconds before his palms skim along my bare arms. Feeling like I’ve been shocked with straight electricity, my gasp escapes as I shift to press my nose into his shirt, the blue cotton/spandex mix beneath my lips driving me up a wall and rushing more slick into the gusset of my panties.

“Of course.” His words are soft, fingers carding through my hair in soothing motions. His lips are soft as they press to my temple and I clutch his shirt tightly in my fists. “What do you need?” He asks, making sure to address me by my name.

“You, alpha…” I whisper, desperation in my tone. “Please…”

“Fuck…” Leon mumbles, nodding and accidentally brushing his nose through my hair, and he groans. “Okay, come on.”

The kisses are all tongues and teeth, lips connected as teeth nibble at the already plump flesh as the door opens. Thank god he has an apartment, cause Dad would never let me bring home an alpha for him to fuck me through my heat. The room smells overwhelmingly like him, air fresheners be damned. Palms on hips, slipping into the waistband of denim, untucking shirts, fingers dancing across skin and I tug on the hem of his light blue shirt, silently pleading for it to come off.

“Need something, sweet girl?” He chuckles, a teasing edge to his voice. A whine slips from my lips into his mouth and he pulls back to press our noses together, foreheads in contact as he looks into my eyes. “Use your words, sweetheart.”

“Off, please, Leon.” Well, he said words. I managed that. He peels the fabric from his chest, my eyes raking over the exposed muscles and soft flesh.

“Eyes up here, ‘mega.” His finger slides under my chin, bringing my eyes to his as our lips collide again before parting to remove my own tee shirt, dropping the cotton onto a pile on top of his. “God, you’re gorgeous,” he whispers under his breath. Before I can process the movements, my feet are off the ground before I feel the weight of the couch beneath me as he tugs on my waistband. “Can I taste you, ‘mega? Please?”

“Mhm,” I hum through my bitten lip, teeth pressing into the tender flesh as I help him remove my tight jeans, my panties flying somewhere in his apartment as he buries his mouth against my cunt without further question.

His name leaves my lips in a squeak as my fingers thread through his dark blonde locks, tugging the strands lightly as his tongue laps at my sex. Growls rumble from his chest as he sucks gently on my clit, the suction forcing gasps and moans from my mouth; I look down and find those intoxicating blue eyes locked on me, the wet sounds coming from my center absolutely lewd. How do people live without this?

“Do you want my knot?” The question should require more thought. More attention.

“Yes. Please alpha, need it.” Leon stands, lips and chin coated with my shiny slick, and I watch as he licks the fluid off his lips before using his fingers to wipe off the remainder before sucking them into his mouth. Oh fuck, that’s hot. Nimble fingers undo the buttons of his jeans, tugging the zipper down tauntingly. “Leon.” His name comes out as a frustrated groan, and I’m gifted by the sweet sound of his light chuckle.

“Patience is a virtue, sweet girl.” I groan, a small laugh of my own filling the air as he comes up to kneel between my thighs, the skin of my ass pressing against his thighs as he leans forward to rub his cock along the length of my core. “Fucking shit, got the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen, ‘mega. Have you ever had a knot before?” He asks, rolling his hips so his tip bumps against my clit and I shake my head no. “Have you ever had sex with anyone?”

“No…” I admit, hands coming up to press against my hot cheeks.

“That’s okay, ‘mega. Do you want to keep going?” I peek between my fingers to see his soft smile. He is willing to stop for my comfort. “I can make you come in other ways if you don’t want-”

“I want your knot, please Leon.” My hips cant on their own accord, rubbing against him and his groan quickly dissolves into a huff of laughter, the sound filled with affection and gentleness.

“Okay, baby. We’ll take this slow, okay?” His head nudges at my opening, pressing the head in. The slight burn doesn’t last as my body adjusts to him, his arms caging me in on both sides of my head filling each of my senses with nothing but Leon, Leon, Leon. It continues like this, him pressing his length pressing in an inch or two before he pauses, huffy breaths puffing against my face as his peppers my face in soft kisses, my hands cupping his jaw and nape of his neck to feel some semblance of balance as he splits me open. I have nothing to compare it to, but he feels pretty big to me. Finally after a painstakingly long time, his hips press forward, flush with mine, and we both release shaky pants at the sensations.

“Please move,” I whimper as my hands shift to dig into the firm muscle of his shoulders, dull nails leaving crescents in his flesh.

“Anything for you, my sweet little omega.” The sweet words are quickly drowned out as he begins a leisurely pace, and I can feel the drag of his cock against my walls at every movement he makes. Kissing is futile by this point; We’re practically just breathing into each other’s mouths. His pace begins to steadily climb, faster and harder as his deft fingers rub soft circles over my bud, my head thrown back in response to the new sensation. “Does that feel good, sweet girl?” I nod before his earlier command rings through my ears.

“Yeah, Leon… Feels so good.”

“Such a perfect little omega, my omega.” The possessive tone sends a wave of heat straight down my spine as he continues. “That alpha touching you earlier… God I wanted to rip his throat out…” Hips slapping harder against mine as my moans grow in pitch, his name practically the only coherent sound that can be heard from my lips.

“Yours, alpha. All yours.” The blonde nuzzles into my neck, teeth grazing across my sweat slicked skin. He speaks, and it takes a nip to my ear to realize he’s speaking, my focus being tugged between the wet sounds of us meeting, his teeth on my neck, his scent in my nose, and his dirty words in my ears.

I want to claim you.

Fill you til it spills from that tight little pussy.

Want my babies, sweetheart?

Knock you up, god you’d look so pretty carrying my babies, ‘mega.

I nod blindly, barely unable to form words anymore as I’m so fucked out, so cockdrunk.

“Yes, please, fill me. Want it. Want you.” I groan in protest as he pulls out, emptiness bringing tears to my eyes before his gentle caress causes me to peel my eyes open to meet his. I’m greeted with a new sight. This isn’t just Leon.

This is my alpha.

“Present for me, ‘mega.” I nod, flipping over so my knees press into the scratchy fabric of the couch, arms resting on the arm rest as my body arches for him practically unconsciously. This is how it feels to find your mate. Callused hands trace the skin of my back, rubbing softly over the skin of my ass before his tip presses against my opening again, sliding in much easier than before, the wet slick aiding in creating a smooth glide and I practically feel him in my throat as he resumes a fast pace. Mumbles of curses fall into the air, sweaty skin pressing to my back, giving him access to whisper in my ear.

“I want you to come for me. I’ll give you my knot if you do.” The rough tips of his fingers return to my clit, rubbing much faster circles as the band in my gut pulls tight. “Come for me, omega.” That’s all it takes. I come with a yelp of his name, followed by a chorus of ‘alpha’s mixing with ‘Leon’. He growls, leaning forward to press the expanding ring of muscle into my pussy as his teeth sink into the flesh of my neck, locking us together in every sense of the words.

Gentle hands maneuver us to our sides, his warm body spooning as he grabs the blanket from the back of his couch to drape it over us as the sweat on our skin rapidly cools in the now chilly air of his living room.

“Are you okay?” He whispers, lips pressing soft kisses across my exposed flesh, and he sounds almost guilty. I nod sleepily, reaching back to run fingers through his hair with a chuckle. “Something funny, cutie?”

“I don’t think sharing the textbook is gonna be an issue anymore.” At my words, we both burst into a fit of giggles, panting breaths as I turn my head to press our lips together before I gasp, hands coming up to my mouth.

“What?”

“My dad is gonna kill us.” I admit with a nervous laugh.

“Nah. I meet parents like a champ.” His face practically drips with confidence and I chuckle.

“Oh really?”

“Oh yeah. Look at my face. This is the face of ‘I’m absolutely not sleeping with your daughter’.” The laughter is uncontainable now.

Oh yeah. Definitely.

Tags:

Leon: @house-of-kolchek @bonnibuckets @athanasia-day @muffimtv Everything: @chaosandbubbles @kassiekolchek22 @akiramoon8088

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon x reader #leon kennedy smut #Alpha!Leon #Omega!Reader #resident evil fanfiction #Alpha!Leon Kennedy

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cevansbrat0007 · 1 year

Text

An Afternoon with Minerva

Summary: Ari finds himself finally ready to admit the truth about his feelings for you...

Warnings: Mature Themes, Slight Angst, Ari Being A Menace, Mentions of Death, Cancer, Dead Mothers, Brief Mentions of War, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: This story is part of my Sweet Renegades Series. Not beta'd. Not beta'd. All mistakes my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

Somewhere Four Hours Outside of Bell’s Creek, Texas

“Shit!” Ari hisses when he almost slips in the middle of trudging up the muddy hillside. It had been raining pretty much non-stop since he’d made it out of Dallas and it hadn’t shown any signs of slowing down.

But that hadn’t been enough to stop Ari Levinson – not today anyway. Today he was a man on a mission. And that mission involved a meeting with a very special woman. The very first love of his life, and he’d almost missed it.

What kind of son forgot about his own Mama’s birthday? Not him. Otherwise he would’ve never heard the end of it from Evelyn and Marcia.

He knew without having to call them that his sisters had already been by with their families earlier in the day. And the last thing he needed was them throwing a fit over his absence, no matter how justifiable it might’ve been.

The Bounty Hunter nearly stumbles again as he weaves his way through the numerous memorials and monuments. He tries to move carefully, doing his best not to disturb the tributes dedicated to others’ loved ones who’d all gone too soon, regardless of how much time they’d spent on this earth.

And his sweet Mama was no exception. She’d left him just shy of his 21st birthday. He’d been by her side, holding her hand as she took her last breaths. Which seemed only fitting since she’d been there holding him on the day he’d taken his first.

Cancer had done his Mama dirty. But while it had robbed her almost everything – her hair, her ability to walk, and ultimately her life – her fighting spirit had remained. Minerva “Minnie” Levinson had gone out swinging, leaving him behind to see after his two younger siblings.

A sixteen-year-old Evie had been so angry back then. So small, but so unbelievably pissed at the world. Meanwhile, sweet baby Marcie had clung to him so tight he’d damn near had a fight on his hands whenever he wanted to take a piss by himself for longer than two minutes. That ten-year-old might as well have been his second shadow.

He’d honestly had no idea just how much he missed her following behind him until he’d been deployed overseas during his first tour. But they'd needed the money and the benefits. And he’d needed an enemy – someone or something that could help him channel all of the rage and anger and hurt that had been simmering beneath the surface.

So he’d left them behind to help fight another man’s war. But not before entrusting his sisters’ care to his friend, Vicky Gunther. And at the time, the fact that she’d also been his highschool sweetheart had felt like an added bonus.

It hadn’t necessarily mattered that his mother had never been too crazy about the woman. But what had mattered was that the girls had someone he knew to look after them while he was out risking his life.

Ari’s grip tightens on the flowers in his hand as he finally finds himself nearing his Mama’s grave. Evie and Marcie had picked it out, all he’d done was sign off on the check. They’d assured him that it was exactly what she would’ve wanted, right down to the quote etched into the granite, which read: “Always keep them guessing.”

That had been Minnie Levinson’s favorite phrase whenever they pulled up in a new town. When you’d grown up being on the run, staying one step ahead of your opponent was an absolute must. Especially when that opponent happened to be your own damned father. Growing up the son of Rex Levinson meant always having to look over your shoulder.

Because you never knew where he might be lurking. He could be states away or, more likely, right around the goddamned corner. Waiting to strike when his poor, terror-stricken family least expected it.

So they’d had to learn to always expect it. Even now, the only reason Ari felt any peace was because his Daddy was currently enjoying an all-inclusive, taxpayer funded 15 year stay at the James Crabtree Correctional Center in Helena, Oklahoma.

Thankfully, Rex still had a few years left on his tab before society deemed his debt to them finally repaid in full. Once he was released, he’d deal with it then. But right now…

Now it was time to see about his Mama. And this chat that they were about to have was long overdue.

A smile finds its way to Ari’s lips once he’s finally standing in front of his mother’s memorial. He pauses briefly before crouching down to place the bouquet he’d brought with him next to the offerings left behind by other members of his family. Although he wasn’t surprised, he was happy to see that they’d all brought daylillies, which had been her favorite.

“Hey. Happy birthday, Mama.” Ari whispers, allowing his fingers to brush along the cool granite. “I made it. Just like I told you I would.” His eyes flutter closed as a light breeze blows by, gently ruffling his chestnut locks.

It was a sign from Minerva herself, letting him know that she was there with him too. Just like she said she would be. And his Mama had never been one to lie to him. Not even in death.

“I see the girls have already been here. I’m surprised they haven’t blown up my phone.” He stands then, grimacing when his left knee cracks as a result of the movement. It seemed like that old injury only bothered him when it rained. Shit sucked.

“I’m sure Evie brought by baby Micah for his first visit. He’s cute ain’t he? Little chubby-cheeked shit machine.” Ari chuckles at that, scrubbing a big hand over his heart. “And I’m not being rude. First time we met he had a blowout in his diaper that was so bad we both needed a shower.”

He laughs harder at the memory of him desperately trying to hand off his incredibly messy nephew to first his own Mama, and then his sister. They’d swerved him so fast, claiming that it was about damned time he learned how to change a diaper.

He’d been mighty pissed at the time. But even so, he and baby Micah had stomped off to the bathroom, determined to handle the stinky situation like a couple of real men. And when they’d emerged from said bathroom forty-five minutes later, they’d been the ones to have the last laugh.

Okay, not really. Micah’s mother, Evie, had been too busy napping on the couch to notice much of anything, her body buried beneath a sea of half folded laundry. And Marcia was playing Go Fish with their four-year-old niece Isobel. But Ari hadn’t allowed the lack of fanfare to take the wind out of their sails.

He’d just grabbed a bottle of milk from the fridge and retreated to his sister’s bedroom, intending to teach the kid about the importance of football until they’d both dozed off. And he still had the picture Evelyn had taken of them both that afternoon, fast asleep in the bed. The baby rocking a Dallas Cowboys onesie, and him wearing her lavender bathrobe.

“They were just jealous, Mama. There I was being a good uncle, bonding with my nephew, and they were playing paparazzi.” That breeze kicks up again, the smell of wet earth filling the air.

“But I’m sure you already know that. You were there. You saw everything. Those two were picking on me like they always do.” Ari pouts then, jamming his hands into his pockets. “There’s just something not right about those girls. Everytime I’m around ‘em, they pinch and poke and prod. Always asking if I’m seeing someone.”

“It’s annoying is what it is. Makes me feel like a damn pincushion or somethin’.” The Bounty Hunter grumbles, nudging a tiny weed with his foot. “How am I supposed to tell ‘em anything if I haven’t run it by you first? Especially when it’s…when it’s…” He trails off as he searches for the right word.

“Real.” He sucks in a breath as his head dips to his chest. “It’s real and it’s right and it’s new. It’s all those things, Mama. And I don’t know what to do with any of it because it’s like I spend half the damn time fightin’ with myself and the other is spent fightin’ her wanting to fly away on me.”

One hand leaves his pocket to rest on the back of his neck. “And I know what you’re probably thinking, Mama. But that ain’t the issue. This woman, my little Bird…she ain’t Vicky.” He rocks back on his heels, careful not to slip in the rain soaked grass.

“And I know you didn’t much care for Vicky. I already told you that I made a mistake with that one. I thought I was doing a good thing leaving the girls with her…” A harsh sigh leaves him as a fresh wave of bitterness rises in his throat. But he swallows it down, refusing to let it choke him.

Because there was more to be said about the woman in his life today. His woman. His sweet Bird.

“Bird is everything I thought Vicky was. But it’s more than that. She’s the best part about that godforsaken Bell’s Creek. And something tells me that she’s wading knee deep into a pile of shit with this fuck, Martin, and these assholes, the Prescotts. It’s all one big mess that I normally would be chompin' at the to get rid of…”

Ari’s head drops again as he prays for another gust of wind, wanting another sign from his Mama to let him know that she was still listening. He doesn’t speak again until he feels it on his skin. This time it’s a loving caress, a gentle reminder that he’s not alone.

How could he be when he had Minnie Levinson by his side?

“I haven’t had a single nightmare since I met her. I’m not saying I’m fixed or anything…” He shrugs his broad shoulders. “But maybe I’m not quite as broken as I thought I was. At least she sure doesn't seem to think so. She just tells me I am an ass.”

The sound of squirrels playing in a nearby tree is enough to distract him, albeit briefly. Once they settle down he quietly forges on.

“Ma, I swear this girl is really something special.” Ari whistles, running a hand over his beard. “Sweet, funny, absolutely gorgeous – and did I tell you she runs a bookstore? Can’t go and leave that part out now can I?”

By now the rain has stopped, with the sun finally beginning to emerge from behind the clouds. He welcomes the warmth it brings. His Mama deserved to enjoy a little sunshine on her special day.

“She – we fight like cats and dogs sometimes - my Bird and I. But that’s not really my fault. I mean I consider myself to be plenty damn agreeable with most things. But my woman…let’s just say I’ve met mules less stubborn than she is. But even so, it’s…it’s like I can’t get enough of her.”

Ari blows out a comforting breath before closing his eyes, his fingers going to the bridge of his nose. “She’s…she’s making me wanna stay. Got me wantin’ to plant roots and build her a house, complete with the white picket fence.”

“I’ve been lost since the moment I laid eyes on her, Mama. And nothing feels right unless I’m with her. When she’s not around it’s like I can’t think – I’m off balance and…” He swallows thickly. “Like even now, I’m here with you and there’s a part of me that is just itchin’ to get back in my truck and haul ass all the way back to Bell's Creek. I mean, I suppose I could’ve brought her with me.” He cocks his head to the side as the thought strikes him. “She would’ve come, but I couldn’t...”

Ari goes back to awkwardly bouncing on the balls of his feet. “I couldn’t bring her here because I needed to talk to you about her first. Introduce her properly so that I could tell you myself that I…” He swallows again, fighting the lump in his throat.

“I love her, Mama.”

There. He’d gone and said it. Not in his head. But out loud to the air. To the world. To his Mama.

“And that sweet little spitfire makes me work for it every day. I’m telling you right now that she needs a damn keeper. And I need her to keep me…balanced.”

A grin spreads across his features as he feels the weight he’s been carrying suddenly lift from his shoulders. “I’m gonna introduce her to the girls, okay Ma? I know they’ll love her like I do. But can you do me a favor and tell ‘em to be nice? You know they never do anything I say.”

Ari bends down to let his fingers graze over his mother’s headstone one last time. “And when the time is right, I’ll bring her here to meet you too.” He murmurs, wishing for a moment that they were actually speaking face to face instead of like this. But unfortunately, that couldn't be helped.

“Until then you rest easy, alright? Because me and the girls are doin’ just fine.” He takes a tentative step backwards. “I love you, Minnie Levinson. And I’ll be back to see you real soon.” Ari turns on his heel, preparing to navigate his way back to his truck.

Halfway through the maze he pulls out his phone, thumbing through his contacts until he lights upon your name. He taps the entry before holding the device to his ear. The sound of your voice on the other line is enough to ease the subtle ache in his chest. At least for now. But he also knew from experience that it wouldn’t go away until he had you in his arms again.

Just four measly, lonely hours until Ari Levinson felt whole again.

END

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fictionobsession · 7 months

Text

devotion

Pairing: Alastor x f!Reader

Summary: She would give anything for him.

Word Count: 1,997

Warnings: blood, canon typical violence, Alastor being psychotic

A/N: okay friends, first time writing for Al. this was not beta'd or really edited at all so if something seems weird just... assume I meant to fix it. also, this was written as a QPR, but there's a little feelings on reader's side if you squint. I'm not 100% on how in character this is for Alastor, but we tried and that's what matters right

---

She plopped onto the shitty couch and pulled her knees to her chest, looking around the shitty house where they'd been hiding out in the middle of this shitty swamp for the last two shitty weeks. The wallpaper was peeling and yellowed, the floors covered in mold and mildew, the running water only worked half the time, and, more importantly, the refrigerator was empty as of six nights prior. Her stomach rumbled just thinking about a nice juicy cut. She sighed, closing her eyes and allowing herself to sink into the daydream of food.

She knew when she'd gotten into this hobby with Alastor that there was a non-zero chance she would wind up on the run someday. She just wished they could have put it off a bit longer, had a bit more fun. She laid her head back against the rotting couch until she heard the creak of the floor near the front door.

Her eyes snapped open and her brows furrowed as she took in Alastor's hunting attire.

“Al, where do you think you're going?”

“Well, my dear, unless you feel like us both starving to death in this dismal abode, I thought I'd better go get some food.”

“Alastor. You know we've heard the dogs nearby. You can't possibly go out there without getting caught, at least until we've had a couple days where we haven't heard 'em.”

“Again, starving is not on my agenda, so we don't particularly have another choice.”

Another choice. Her face hardens as she realizes what another option might be. She stood up and crossed the room, grabbing Alastor's arm before he could open the door. “There is a way for us to make it out of this without you leaving. Or rather, a way for one of us to make it out of this.”

He hummed, and she could see the wheels turning as he put together what she was implying. “I'm not sacrificing myself for you to get away, you know.”

“I know. That's why I'm just asking you to get it over with quickly. You'll get more time, and I – well, I'll at least get to go out on my own terms. If I have to go, at least it'll be for you.”

His eyes widened just a bit, more reaction than she'd usually get, before he shrugged. “Okay. Painless it is. Not usually my style, but I think I can figure it out.”

She laughed, a genuine, full laugh. “I know, Al, and that's why we've worked out so well. But I think you could at least do that much for me.”

He pulled his hunting knife from where he had already slid it into his belt. “Are you ready?”

And with one nod, everything went black.

It seemed instantaneous, appearing in hell. She looked around, taking in the chaos around her. Literal dumpster fires, public sex, casual street murders, Hell had it all. Of course, arriving in Hell wasn't a surprise for her. You don't kill that many people and expect to get into Heaven. She wasn't even sure she had believed in the whole afterlife thing until she was experiencing it. She shrugged it off, finding the closest place with a mirror she could use for free.

Her body was... different, certainly. But intact, and honestly, she was quite happy with it. Given the various types of demons she'd seen just in her brief time there, it could've been a lot worse. She wandered, putting together a plan of action for getting herself set up in Hell. It seemed she would need income to make most things happen, which made finding a job a top priority. She also needed a place to sleep, as it seemed unsafe at best to stay on the streets.

She got a job fairly quickly at Ozzie's, though she wasn't thrilled with the outfit they made her wear for the whole thing. But it was money, and easy work, so she stuck with it. Asmodeus offered her a fairly decent rate on rent nearby, as well, so she could have done worse.

Shortly after getting settled, she started feeling pressure on her body in random locations and at seemingly random times, almost like someone was grabbing or poking her to get her attention. Occasionally she'd get hot spots, which she at first attributed to it being hot in Hell. Little scrapes and cuts would appear sometimes as well, but they always healed up quickly. It wasn't until the final time it happened that she realized what had been happening over the past few weeks.

A perfect bite imprint appeared on her forearm, accompanied by a sharp pain, and she realized it must have been an effect of Alastor in the living world. She traced her finger over the mark, which had healed into almost a scar, but not quite. It was a bit pink, but wasn't angry and fresh. She smiled a little to herself, happy that her sacrifice hadn't been in vain.

As time went on, she found herself tracing the mark when she was feeling stressed, upset, or particularly lonely. It never healed all the way, making it always a bit sensitive to touch, and served as a reminder of why she was here. The mark always made her feel closer to Al, which brought a little comfort when things got crazy.

She had managed to stay within the same few blocks that she knew were heavily policed by Asmodeus's people. However, six months into her stay in Hell, she finally had to leave her little neighborhood to buy some things for the bar. She packed her gun, a knife, and made sure she was dressed inconspicuously – the rumors about the surrounding areas were very...detailed...about what might happen to someone who ended up on the wrong side of a fight.

Unfortunately, her preparation didn't keep her from getting spotted by some Sharks outside the store as she started back toward her apartment. She tried to hurry, sliding between demons and other sinners, before slipping down an alley to attempt to lose her tail. It was too late by the time she realized it was a dead end, and the Sharks started cutting off her only entrance.

She took one step, two, keeping them in her sight until her back hit the brick wall behind her. Her hand reached for her gun, ready to pull it when the lead Shark got close enough. Their glares were paralyzing, and she could smell the smoke and alcohol on them at that distance. She felt herself start to shake, taking a deep breath to steady herself before -

“You wouldn't want people to think you're picking on those of fairer means would you?” The sound and feeling of static crackled through the air like lightning as a dark shape enveloped the opening to the alleyway. A long, thin shadow ripped through the air, straight through the lead Shark, throwing him against the side of the neighboring building.

Green sparks shone through the seemingly infinite blackness, a pair of what could only be described as antlers growing from the approaching shape. Two more tendrils, picking up the remaining Sharks and tossing them into the air like dolls. She wanted to close her eyes, but couldn't look away from the gore. Sure, she had seen a lot of violence in her time in Hell, but she hadn't seen that level of overkill in quite some time.

As the last of the Sharks fled only to get a tendril through the skull, she pressed herself as far into the corner as possible, sliding down the wall and pulling her knees to her chest. There was only the hope that the demon forgot she existed, and the knowledge that if he hadn't, she would likely be next up for second death.

The shadow approached, darkness fading as he got closer until finally it revealed a man. A tall man, with horns, but just a man, nonetheless. He was straightening out his red coat, and twirling something around in his hands as he approached. “Always good to have an excuse to let off a little steam. Always good.”

He put a hand out to help her up. As she lifted herself off the ground, he was already vaguely shaking her hand, introducing himself. “Name's Alastor, pleasure to meet you. Quite a pleasure.”

His name hit her ears about the time he caught a glimpse of her bite, and both stopped dead in the middle of introductions. She looked up, eyes widening as she realized that yes, that was a microphone, and yes, in fact, it had been quite a while since she'd seen that level of overkill, one could even say since her living days. He looked different now, sure, but as soon as she looked into his eyes, she knew that was her Al.

“Well maybe don't wait so long to come save my ass next time, eh, Al?” She smirked up at him, waiting for him to process what was happening. His nails traced the pattern of his own bite on her arm. She caught sight of his tongue tracing across his teeth, as if he was just then realizing how different they'd really become. “I bet your imprint looks a bit different now, doesn't it?” She spoke more to herself than to him as she reached to pull her sleeve down over the mark.

“Why, I should hope so, my dear. I should very much hope so. Let's see just how much it's changed then!” Without any more warning than that, he pulled her arm to his mouth and bit, hard. The new mark bled, sure, but it healed up more quickly than it probably should have, covering his old impression with his new one. His ears twitched subconsciously, his ever-present smile nearly faltering as he watched the blood drip, drip, drip down her arm. He shook himself out of whatever thoughts were distracting him rather quickly before acting like no time had passed at all since they'd been together last. “Now, I don't think I should leave you alone again. It seems to me that you still can't stay out of trouble, my dear! Come along, let me show you where I've been staying!”

“But – Hang on! Al! I've got to go to work!”

“Ah, there'll be no more need of that anymore. We'll send a notice to... whoever you're working for when you get settled.” He raised an eyebrow, practically daring her to argue. She knew, though, that she'd never gone against what he'd wanted before, and she didn't particularly want to start now. She took the elbow he'd offered her and allowed him to lead her out of the alley.

Occasionally, as they walked, she would catch sight of a shadow that seemed to be following them.

“Oh, don't mind them. They're just keeping an eye on your wellbeing. You better get used to it! Having a friend like me, why, other overlords will just be dying to get their hands on you!”

She scoffed, a look of adoration crossing her features before she tactfully replaced it with annoyance. “I'm not going to get any rest now, am I?”

“Oh contraire, ma cherie! You're going to get everything you've ever wanted and deserved. I owe you that after what you did for me up there, wouldn't you say?”

“Oh I just can't wait to show you Cannibaltown! You've got to meet Rosie, yes. You'll get along very well, very well indeed. And she makes the most delectable little treats! Maybe we'll go by tomorrow.”

As he continued rambling, she hummed approval when appropriate, watching him out of the corner of her eye with a mix of caution and longing. As he led her down streets she'd never seen before, she realized maybe this was all her afterlife had needed after all.

#alastor x reader #alastor x oc #aroace!alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #tw: blood #tw: cannibalism #hazbin hotel fic

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