#oh god its like fizzing

[mjshortformcjesus]

ew guys dont eat soap i just took a bite out of a large bar of soap and i almost threw up and now im dying because i drank water and the inside of my mouth feels bubbly and it burns

[luck-of-the-drawings]

"And soda; runs off into the street..." "...and soda... is totally okay!"

[jack-kellys]

i don't think i've sent you a fic title ask yet!

"if you bleed (i bleed the same)"

you have not!! thank u emma <3

yeah i'll still do 'em, send me a fic title bro

as someone who normally dislikes soulmate aus, this is a soulmate au. and it is. actually not very sad!! i'll lyk at the end what i was gonna do though. ahem.

most pains in spot's life have been earned. he's got himself into most of the fights he's been into, he takes the brunt of any force for anyone in brooklyn's lodge, he's dove for younger kids wandering in front of trolleys and landed harshly plenty of times.

he meets race when they're fifteen, and he's... annoying, actually, beyond belief. he's cocky, and attached to Kelly's side, repeating what the older boy says even though he's only sixteen by a few months more than spot. but the boy's skin sparkles in the sun like he's never noticed anyone's do before, captivating and honestly distracting, they're having a meeting.

race and jack leave, and spot realizes that there's this unpredicted pain in his chest. his heart, actually, he thinks as he sits heavily down on his personal bunk. he can't massage it out to go away, and he can't think much else about the strange, warm feeling, and... that boy. racetrack, with the grin that glowed in the sun.

what spot doesn't know is that race is feeling the same, and telling jack, and jack is saying "no fucking way spot conlon is your soulmate."

their next meeting is quieter. only jack knows about it, and spot wished jack didn't have to, but the boy covers for them and lets them up to jack's penthouse so they can talk, just spot and race.

jack ends up sleeping in race's bunk that night, not willing to stay up late enough to trade places.

from there, lots of pains spot experiences are from race.

they'll bump their heads together when reaching for the same thing, spot'll get a black eye from someone saying race doesn't belong on their turf, they'll kiss hard enough that their noses bash together, they'll laugh so hard that spot's chest will hurt again, that same warmth spreading over his heart.

and it's annoying, and embarrassing, and terrifying, but it makes spot start to believe that maybe they.. will be together, for a long time. race likes the word 'forever', and maybe spot starts to want to use it, too.

that first year is glorious, and sneaky, and forbidden, and race is the only person he knows well enough to allow himself to relax around when his second year of leadership get a little too hard to bear some days.

but 1898 turns into 1899 guys... so it's strike time asf.

race lets jack go to brooklyn with davey. he doesn't want to send any signals out to any of the boys- some of the manhattan boys already aren't the biggest fans of how well race and spot know each other. spot will agree– it's a fight, for all of them, and it's race's turf, so spot will agree.

until jack's pulling him aside and telling him that spot had refused, that manhattan needs to prove itself first. that spot has other kids to consider.

and that same feeling in his chest that's usually reserved for that sun-like warmth... goes cold, in a way that makes race grab his chest and jack hold him upright, as if the universe was striking him to say no, this isn't right.

race hears something about spot being sick on the day of the strike from specs, and race just nods and keeps himself upright and tall and strong for the kids that came. jack sends him a glance, though.

so they get the scabs to strike, and more manhattan kids arrive, and they chase off the delanceys, and things are looking up, race thinks.

until, of course, they don't.

spot sits up in his bunk from how he'd been shivering in the late july heat, the icy feeling even harsher between his ribs now. something is wrong, and something is mad at him, and it isn't just race, because race feels like what is wrong.

so basicallyyyyy, warmth means a person has made the right choice with their soulmate, and this freezing cold means they've done something to harm them. so the universe is.... not a Being but kind of a Being. but originally the cold was going to mean about to die, and race was.. going to have a less fun time in this fic idea, but when spot changes his mind and painstakingly makes his way over to see race and apologize, that brooklyn will be at the rally (he "sends a kid over" to davey but he sees race himself), the feeling goes away when race forgives him. so you can image how fucking painful jack's is when he betrays davey and everyone else at the rally...

but this is a fun base concept for a soulmate au so thanks for making me not hate it as much emma!!!

[fizzseed]

martin WHY WHY WHY WHYYYYY are you going with annabelle cane to hill top road

[mountainsandmayhem]

Netflix & Chill

Marcus Pike x Female Reader

18+, MDNI

Summary: You spend your fifth date with Marcus at his place watching Netflix.

Or

You might be in your thirties, but you can still Netflix and Chill.

Warnings: fluffy smut. Kissing. Little bit of dirty talk. Fully clothed. Marcus just being the love of my life the entire time.

AN: Don’t look at me. Don’t talk to me. I am too busy having my brain absolutely disintegrated by thoughts of Agent Pike. I am sick over him. Down bad. Wanting to rip off my arms and beat myself senseless with them over him. Leave me alone!! But also leave me nice comments because I’m a slut with a praise kink lol. Thank you so much for reading 🤎

Graphics and dividers by @saradika-graphics

Moodboard by me

“Oh god,” you whimper, both of you are fully dressed. You’re caged under his strong body as he pushes his hips down on you. You can feel his cock through his grey sweats and your thin, black yoga pants. The credits of whatever movie you were watching rolled in the background.

“Is this ok?” He asks, kissing at your neck and earlobe. The soft, fuzzy brown blanket falls around both of you, encasing you in his earthy and citrus scent.

“Ya, please don’t stop.” You writhe under him, feeling that familiar tingly pressure building. He smiles into the crook of your neck.

It was your fifth date with Marcus Pike, FBI agent and potential man of your dreams. In his younger years, he probably would have already slept with you by now. But age has made him a man of patience and waiting. Only giving what he’s willing to let go of, what he can nurture and grow. And for the first time in a long time, he thinks that might be you.

“I won’t stop, baby.”

Baby, shit. He panics internally. He’s only called you by your name until now. He nervously looks over at you and you smile sleepily.

“I like that,” you mumble.

“Which part?” He asks his voice like warm oil along your skin. “Me grinding into what I’m sure is the most beautiful pussy in the world, or the kisses on your soft, slender, vanilla scented neck, or me calling you baby?”

Your legs start to shake around him as you pull him in to kiss him hard. You sweep your tongue along his bottom lip. He tastes like the popcorn and expensive Cabernet Sauvignon you were both drinking.

“All of it,” you say between kisses.

He pulls away, bringing his hands to your face and gently wiping the few loose hairs that stick to your skin, then drags the tip of his nose down yours before resting his forehead against yours.

“You’re truly so beautiful. I’m so happy I met you, baby.” He pushes his hips into you harder and a pornographic moan fills the room as the trailer for whatever Netflix is suggesting next plays. “Sound so pretty too.”

“Marcus,” you say wantonly.

“I know. I’m here.” He says, eyes still locked on yours, one thumb making sweet, soft circles on your cheek while his other slips behind your head.

Your hands bunch into his white t-shirt. “I’m gonna cum,” you moan, letting his coca-cola coloured eyes wash over you, and drench your whole body in carbonated pleasure. Sparkling, bubbling, fizzing over the edge.

“I’m right here, honey.” He whispers, pushing into you a little faster. Your body jolts into his as you suck in quick, shallow breaths.

“Ohgodohgod. Mar-Marcus,” your walls clench tightly around nothing as he hits at your puffy, sensitive clit through your pants at the perfect tempo and pressure.

“Relax, baby. I got you.” He encourages and then you fall apart for him. Your body twitches on its own accord as your orgasm rolls through you for what feels like an eternity.

“That’s it,” he whispers, stilling his hips. “Just take. That’s a good girl.”

You clamp your eyes shut as you reach the top of it. “No, look at me, baby. You’re so beautiful like this.”

Pink flushes your cheeks at his words and the blood that seems to not know where to go in your body. Everything feels like it’s being doused with warm water as you finally come over the edge and the fluttering of your pussy slows.

His eyes dance around your face before he kisses your forehead, and the tip of your nose. You smile into his lips as he places a light and lingering kiss on yours.

“Are you okay?” He says sweetly, pulling back slightly.

“Ya, that’s was…” you search his face for any hint of regret but all you see is admiration. You finish with, “…unexpected, but amazing.”

As he starts to respond, a whipping sound followed by a moan comes from the TV. Both of your heads turn towards it.

“Netflix is suggesting 50 Shades of Grey,” he laughs.

“That’s more of a seventh date thing for me,” you say flatly as his face whips back to you. You can’t help but laugh at his reaction. Both of you now laughing as you sort yourself back out, cuddling into him to find a new movie to “watch” next.

Taglist:

@corazondebeskar @hiddenbabynyc @rainstorms-library @keylimebeag @pimosworld

@casa-boiardi @pedritoferg @paleidiot @lorilane33 @jessthebaker

@jasminedragoon @pedroswife69 @iloveenya @javierpena-inatacvest @pedroshotwifey

@mermaidgirl30 @littlevenicebitch69 @untamedheart81

Special tag for @survivingandenduring because I know you share my love of this man.

[mintaikk]

Moments I think Blitzø realized his feelings for Stolas

I really don't think that Blitzø had an "Oh" moment. I think it was over a period of time, where he slowly realizes it, and then it comes unleashing out in either The Full Moon or Apology Tour.

Anyways, here

Seeing Stars (S2, ep2)

This was Blitzø's reaction when he saw Stolas's human form for the first time. God, I love his subtle expressions here sm. Read this post, they explain it well, and it's also the post that made me want to make this post.

In the first pic, Blitzø looks surprised and confused, probably from the shock of seeing Stolas's human form for the first time. Probably didn't even consider he ever had one, lol

The second image, we see a small blush appear, and as @ifwebefriends said, it's the "I'm fucked" face, as he is filled with complicated emotions as he realizes he likes Stolas in every form. He looks really worried by this.

The third image, hid pupils are fully dilated. Instead of confused, he looks genuinely worried and vulnerable. His expression doesn't show lust, but more like a mix of someone who is nervous to be around someone they like and genuine fear. He is realizing that it isn't just lust, but that he genuinely likes Stolas, and that's scary to him.

In the fourth image, he quickly turns around, slightly hunched over and rubbing his hands together; both behaviors indicating nervousness, probably at his own emotions. He also asks Stolas if he can somehow give them human disguises, which yes, is relevant to what's going on, but it can also be him being like, "maybe I'm just interested in the human disguise," so he can believe that instead of dealing with his own emotions.

(Also, have this gif of Blitzø checking Stolas out in his human disguise)

Then that scene in Seeing Stars that, when I joined the fandom, was the first thing I saw fans losing their shit over

Nothing much to comment on here. He's actually smiling at Stolas's advances. The other times Stolas flirted with him, it's always been overly aggressive ("jelly sandwiches all night~"), and this time, it's more subtle and intimate, which clearly worked for Blitzø.

Oops (S2, ep6)

In this moment, Fizz hit Blitzø with the allegations, and this was Blitzø's reaction to it. Look at his expressions! The first image looks confused and scared and heart broken, like he knew he fell, but he's either in denial, ignoring it, or doesn't think it's reciprocated; perhaps even all 3.

The second image, he looks sad, angry, and confused, like he doesn't know his emotions and can't name them, but he's hurt. He's frustrated at how complicated things are, and he hates it.

The 3rd image is now just full denial. When lying, people often look to the side or avoid eye contact, which is exactly Blitzø is doing right here. He knows that its more than sex every month, but he's lying to himself, because he can't get hurt if it is just casual.

Alright, imma have to do a part 2 to this cuz I ran out of space. I'll try to go in episode order next time lol, I just go excited with these 2 lol

Part 2

[fourmoony]

fizz pop lolly - James Potter x Fem!Reader

smut, barely any plot. p in v. unprotected sex. language. james is a bit of a perv.

18+ work, minors DNI.

not proof read. 2k words.

...

It’s pervy.

James knows it’s pervy, but he can’t stop himself. You’re not even aware he’s ogling you, gone in your own world that he imagines has fairies, rainbows and butterflies floating around in that pretty little head of yours. He’s sure if anyone caught sight of him staring, they’d catch on immediately, know just how sick and twisted his mind really is because his eyes are dead set on the hemline of your skirt, his mouth open awaiting flies. You’re resting your hands on the table on the far side of the library, supposedly reading a textbook for a source you need for your essay on Care of Magical Creatures, and the way you’re bent over ever so slightly has your skirt rising from its already high placement.

It's sick. It’s downright fucking twisted. You’re so sweet, so innocent, such a pretty soul – for fucks sakes you run study groups and tutor first years in your rare free time – and all James can think about is how he wants to walk up behind you, put his hand between your shoulder blades and push until you’re flat against the table, flat against his dick.

But.

But it would be criminal not to look, right? Not to enjoy the way you pop your hip to the left when your legs obviously get tired of having stood up for so long. He swears he can make out the bottom of your arse cheek and he about chokes on his own bloody saliva. Your legs look so smooth, like he could run his hands up and down them, listen to the quickening of your breath and feel nothing but silk. God, he’s deranged. Guilt swirls in his stomach with lust, a never-ending battle that he shouldn’t be staring – actually, he should probably go over and tell you he’s likely not the only one looking, for your own sake – but that he physically cannot bring himself to stop.

He can’t stop thinking about you, about how you’d feel wrapped around him, soft and pliant under him, the sounds you’d make. He’s hard as a rock, blood rushing from his head to his dick and he finds it’s getting easier and easier to keep looking, guilt free, with the lack of blood up there.

He’s both grateful and ready to raise hell when Sirius appears behind you, returning from his hunt for a book he’d needed for a prank, and blocks you from James’ view. Sirius takes a seat across from James and he groans inwardly. Sirius’ stupid head is blocking your perfect arse from James’ view and that won’t do.  

“How can I see the book if you’re sitting over there?” James tries.

Sirius looks up, brows furrowed, “Uhm, you don’t need to? I’ll just tell you once I find the spell.”

“Yeah, but- Like, I need to- wouldn’t it be better if I checked it? Made sure it was the right spell?” James stutters like an absolute fool, and he wants to bang his fucking head into the desk.

Sirius catches on immediately. James wants to die as his best friend looks around, spotting you behind him. His head whips around at breakneck speed, his eyes wide with mischief. James jumps into action, trying to cover Sirius’ mouth before he makes an announcement that James Potter is a massive fucking pervert in front of the entirety of the Hogwarts Library. Sirius dodges, laughing maniacally, breathless and sputtering and James just panics and shoves the table as hard as he can into Sirius’ stomach and ribs.

He heaves a breath of air, winded, eyes wide and accusatory. Problem solved, James thinks, whilst Sirius is doubled over, head no longer blocking his view. Until he looks up, eyes searching, and finds you sauntering over, brows furrowed. Shit, he thinks, shit, shit, fucking shit.

“What are you two up to, now?” You ask, brow raised and a hint of a smile on your lips.

And oh god, your lips. So full, so soft, so pretty. James feels like he’s the one who’s had a table slammed into his ribs. Sirius still has his head on the desk, groaning and gasping for air. James couldn’t give two shits when you take the seat next to his, give him your full attention, cross one of your legs over the other and sit oh so bloody pretty. Godric, James would like to ruin you.

“Oh, nothing. Just studying.” James tries his best at casual.

You look at the table in front of you with amusement. There’s no study material. Just empty sweetie wrappers, a couple marbles and the one book Sirius needed for a prank. James flushes red. Fuck.

“Hm. Clearly.” You say, eyes twinkling.

You’re so beautiful, James thinks. So fucking pretty.

“Well,” You chirp when James literally can’t think of anything to say, “Next time Sirius is about to out you for staring at my arse, I’d go for a silencing charm over bodily harm.”

With that, you stand and turn, and James is pretty much face to face with said arse. You bend a little, pretending to fix your socks and James thinks he’s going to die. Literally. Die. Like, on the spot. You’re so sweet, so innocent – or so he thought. He’s in over his head. Truly. His brain simply short circuits. You leave, walking away, swinging your hips as you go and James is up and out of his seat, hot on your heels. You feel him at your back, smile to yourself. Sirius holds a finger up to James as he leaves, only to be thwarted on the back of the head by Madam Pince as she passes.

James follows you through the hallways, up staircases, until he realises, you’re headed for the seventh-floor corridor. It’s dark and abandoned and a well-known area for hooking up. His heart rate accelerates. If he’d have known you’d catch him staring and bring him here? He’d have felt less guilty about it and done it way more often.

You stop and turn to face him at the end of the corridor, swallowed by shadows but he can still see the bright shine to your eyes, the wideness of your smile. You’re waiting, playing games and James always wins.

“You were showing off on purpose?” He asks, crowding you against the wall.

You look up, bite your lip and fuck James is pretty much gone already. Your head tilts, hair sprawling over your shoulder, picture of innocence. James knows now that it’s a farse. And he’s determined to break the act, have you begging, pleading, destroyed for and by him. Your hands, dainty and a little cold, reach out for his forearms, pulling him slightly towards you. He smiles, a hint of knowing in his eyes that has your knees buckling.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, Jamie.”

James tuts, towering over you. He presses his lips to the side of your neck, inhales your perfume and fuck he’s hard all over again, “You know fine well what you were doing to me.”

You hum, hands running up his arms to rest on his shoulders, sliding around to the nape of his neck and grabbing a fist of his hair. “Maybe.”

James smiles, nips the skin at the nape of your neck. He pushes his weight against you, you sigh in delight. His hands are everywhere, along your waist, the tops of your thighs, your tits. It’s not until he slides his hands up your skirt, desperate to feel the flesh of your arse that he realises you’re not wearing any underwear and he almost comes on sight. His breath is shuddering, mouth pressed against the skin of your neck and dear Godric, he thinks, how could he have ever assumed you were anything other than a dirty, filthy slut?

“I really wanted to take my time,” He huffs, pulling back until he’s centimetres from your lips, “But right now the only thing I can think about is ruining you.”

You nod, a huff of breath like it’s been punched out of your lungs at his words, “Please.”

With that, James kisses you. Hot and heavy and dirty and fuck he’s never been so glad to have been perving on you. You moan when he lifts you up, hands firm on the backs of your thighs, like you weigh nothing and keeps you propped up with his hips against the wall. It’s all consuming, having him everywhere, all around you. His smell, his sound, his tongue searching your mouth, his lips, his teeth, his hands, his dick, pressed so nice against your bare cunt.

He shifts, you squeal, head hitting against the brick wall.

His fingers trace you, teasing, only for a second, before he’s knuckle deep and you’re keening, bucking against him, fingers digging crescent moons into his shoulders. James swears he’s in heaven, the way he has you – desperate and soaking fucking wet. All because of him.

“James,” You moan, one hand cupping his neck and cheek, your hooded eyes are looking into his, “Need more. Need you. Please.”

James isn’t going to make you ask twice. Maybe when he has more time. Next time he’s going to take his time. Next time he’s going to be patient, watch you fall apart, make you beg. At least, he hopes there’ll be a next time. He thinks he might die if he never gets to see you like this again. Your head is thrown back, neck exposed, breaths coming in pants as he whips himself out of his trousers. He lines himself up, you keen, and he takes a deep breath before he slams up into you.

You practically scream, clenching around him, legs tightening around his waist. James swears he sees stars. You’re so warm, so tight, and you’re whimpering and bucking against him. He feels hot and heavy and he’s hitting spots you never imagined. The breath punches from your lungs when he sets a fast and hard pace, hands gripping at any skin he can find. He’s moaning into your skin, grunts and profanities and you’re sure that anyone who comes within a mile of the seventh-floor corridor will hear the sinful noises coming from the pair of you.

It’s hot and dizzying and your skin feels like it’s on fire with every thrust that he bullies into you.

“Fuck, you’re so hot, so tight…” James is aware he’s just speaking his mind, unfiltered and uncaring. He has no shame, not when he’s slamming into you like it’s his sole purpose on this earth. Maybe it is, he thinks.

You groan, clenching around him, “Jamie, I’m so close.”

“I know, I know, let go, pretty girl.” He coos, reaching between you to rub at the swollen bundle of nerves that’s been crying out for attention.

You spasm, coming on the spot at the stimulation and his words. He’s two seconds behind you, an embarrassingly loud moan escaping him, but he can’t find it in him to care when you’re still whining and bucking against him. You’re both seeing stars, pressed together, still fully clothed, breathless, and floating down.

Realisation sets in, the silence of the corridor is deafening.

Until you laugh.

You giggle maniacally like he’s said the funniest thing in the world and James frowns in confusion. He lets you down, tucks himself back into his pants all whilst you’re still giggling. It’s not until you stop, breathless, and reach up to press a kiss to his lips that he smiles dumbly.

“Took you long enough, Potter.”

James’ head spins. You’re there, standing in front of him, two seconds after being completely ruined, whining, and bucking on him, innocent act completely gone. He’s so dopily happy at the way you’re smiling up at him.

“How long-“

“The time you were staring at me eating a fizz pop lolly.” You answer for him.

This time, James laughs. Six months. You’ve known for six months that he’s been innately obsessed with you.

“Fucks sakes.”

You giggle again and fall into his arms, he pulls you backwards, pliant in his arms as you laugh and stumble all the way along the hallway.

[venomhound]

Hazbin Hotel - Dumb Lucifer Scenario Dump

Here are just a bunch of like random scenarios that popped into my head; usually when I was half asleep or hadn't slept for several days. Im not going to do anything with these beyond this post so if someone wants to like turn these into a short story or comic, feel free. Just link back and give me credit for the idea please ~<3

WARNING: Actual brainrot below the cut. Not beta read we die like men -ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Who Needs Magic Anyway? ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

(Little bit of context; this idea came about because I was talking to @writteninlunarlight-years about the whole 'there is only one bed trope thing)

Lucifer and reader are both drinking together. They both get so plastered that the reader cant go home on their own and Lucifer cant make a decent portal. (The portals keep fizzing out, going to the wrong places.... Point is he cant do it right atm).

So Lucifer offers to have the reader stay with him for the night. Even in their drunkin state, the reader side-eyes Lucifer at his offer and the guy just keeps digging his hole deeper Saying stuff like:

Lucifer: I-I meant we can sleep together as friends. Reader: *blinks* Lucifer: WAIT-

Lucifer even offers to make you one of those stupid pillow walls in between you two if your really that uncomfortable. What a gentleman

Anyway, you both eventually end up in his bedroom and Lucifer changes into duck pajamas (because of course thats what he has. what else would the guy have really). Then you both look at each other awkwardly as you both realize you… don't exactly have anything comfortable to sleep in.

Lucifer quickly says that its fine! He will just magic you up some pjs! Easy! Well. The problem is when he does this, his alcohol infused brain defaulted the entire concept of sleepwear to mean 'Lucifer’s sleepwear.' So when he zaps you, you end up with a perfectly matching set of ducky nightshirt and pants to Lucifer’s very own.

Lucifer immediately wants to die.

Bonus: This entire thing has now made me headcanon that Lucifer cannot control his magic when he is drunk

✿°•∘୨୧∘•°✿‿✿°•∘୨୧∘•°✿‿✿°•∘୨୧∘•°✿

Playing the Hero ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

NOTE: I used a spider here, but really it can be any bug. Or whatever you want. I just did a spider because fuck spiders, and the idea of Lucifer cowering at a mini Angel Dust was very funny to me

Its late at night and as usual Lucifer cannot sleep. Lucifer is suddenly disturbed however, by the reader in their adorable pajamas. They are looking around nervously, with their hands hidden in their sleeves.

The man is immediately ready to do anything they ask cause they are just so darn cute.

The reader sheepishly asks him if he can kill a giant spider that has decided to make itself at home in their room. Lucifer, ever the sin of pride, (and maaayyybe wanting to impress them a little), excitedly says that of course he can! Completely pushing away the fact that, he too, is afraid of spiders.

They both go to the reader's room and as soon as Lucifer sees the spider he panics a little. (”Oh god, that is actually a big spider.”, ”Why are its legs so long??”)

Wanting to play the hero but also not wanting to go anywhere near the accursed thing, Lucifer thinks itll be a great idea to just- zap it.

Well, the thing is Lucifer’s hands are very shaky at the moment, due to a combination of having all the reader's attention on him and the fear of holyshitspider. So when he tries to zap the thing he completely fucking misses like an idiot.

The spider goes flying toward the two of them, resulting in both of them bursting out of the room screaming bloody murder and waking up the rest of the hotel.

✿°•∘୨୧∘•°✿‿✿°•∘୨୧∘•°✿‿✿°•∘୨୧∘•°✿

Don't Overthink It ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

(Again, inspired by @writteninlunarlight-years specifically her post about Making Flower Crowns for the Hazbin Men. This prompt takes place during Valentines Day, but you can easily modify it to be during a different holiday. Can be platonic or romantic.

Valentines Day comes around, and you decide to gift one to the infamous King of Hell. Because youll be sending it anonymously, you decide to go all out. You get him a super nice duck themed gift, handwrite him a card, as well as get him a stunning bouquet.

What you didn't anticipate however, was Lucifer completely losing it when he receives the gift. Apparently its been decades/centuries since he last received a Valentine, let alone one as nice as the one you gave him.

He was the King of Hell after all. You assumed he got a million Valentines automatically because of his position. I mean, Alastor got piles of them so why WOULDNT the King of Hell?

Because of its anonymous nature, Lucifer's ever romantic heart gets obsessed with the Valentine. You love bombed the poor guy on complete accident. Lucifer starts trying to do his own little 'investigations' to figure out who made it for him, like comparing different handwritings to the one on the card and such. Lucifer even starts daydreaming about who it could be and imagining what they are like.

(if its romantic) Your afraid to tell him you did it because you don't want to complicate your friendship with Charlie. A part of you also feels guilty that you somehow managed to put yourself on such a high pedestal in Lucifer's eyes when... your just you.

(if its platonic) You don't want to break Lucifer's heart and tell him that you just wanted to do something nice. You feel guilty for getting his hopes up for something/someone that doesn't exist.

BONUS: At some point in the story, the reader walks by a trashcan/dumpster full of Valentines meant for Alastor that he clearly just trashed right away. Alastor hates Valentines day because everyone wont. Stop. BUGGING. HIM.

[heartfullofleeches]

Y/N talking to their audience: “*Sigh* Nothings happened yet we’ve been here for hours!! …..Pfft- Hey you guys, how about we try a challenge to pass the time? If you guys give me 50 subs in an hour I’ll decide to give your favourite camera person Tobi a kiss on the cheek!”

Tobi overhearing Y/N: :) !!!!

Y/N: “Hehe it’d be funny if that actually happened right? I’ve never gotten that many subs during a stream ever- WOAH!!” Suddenly Y/N receives 500 subs all at once

Y/N: “Oh- Oh my god!! Tobi look at what just happened this is insane!!!”

Tobi patiently waiting for their kiss: :) :) :)

"Seven...eight... nine... Hey Tobi - How many did you see upstairs again?"

The camera man holds three fingers up.

"That makes twelve.... Dang it." Nudging a rotting rocking chair with your foot, you join Tobi's side on the floor as they fiddles with their camera seemingly unordered by the predicament you were now in.

Tonight was supposed to be your big break. According to leads, if you counted the number of doors in this house aloud a thirteen door would appear as a gate to the word beyond your own and its inhabitants would snatch mortals foolish enough to seek its knowledge. With your trust cameraman at your side - you weren't worried about a thing, but to your disappointment no ghost or demons had come to drag you kicking and screaming beyond the veil.

Truth be told, Tobi had found this doorway hours before the scheduled stream. They'd torn it to chips and now used it to light the fireplace keeping you warm they also had the time to clean out before you arrived. In their eyes, things were better this way. The natural moonlight created the perfect scene to film you in as did most lights. They had already filled the remaining storage on one memory card and well into the next. To them - this had been one of the best hunts you had by fair.

Sighing, you sit up face the live camera. "Sorry, guys. Really thought we had something tonight. If you're disappointed by the lack of quality content - I can always give Tobi a kiss on the cheek....if they'd be comfortable with it.

And it was about to get even better.

The comments flood in like the racing waters of a broken dam.

"I'm sure they would."

"Who couldn't want a kiss from you?"

"Kiss. Kiss. Kiss."

"That's just the excitement they we need."

"Look at how excited they are. Don't play with their heartstrings like that, Y/n?"

You glance over at Tobi who was sitting with their hands folded in their lap and freshly groomed. They wave, fixing their coat sleeve as it falls, and adjusts their camera to capture you both in frame as you turn back.

"Alright, then... Hm, let's make a challenge of it - if we reach fifty subs in...."

" :) had donated 100 subs."

"Palemoonlight :) has gifted 250 subs."

"Three hundred already!? G-guys, I haven't even -"

"Trustycameraperson :) has donated 500 subs."

"Pleasekissmealready :) :) has donated a 1,000 subs."

"Okay, okay I get it!" You scoot over to Tobi and take both of their hands, wordless asking for the go ahead. They nod furiously, almost flinging their baseball cap off their head. They adjust it as you lean in and press a soft kiss to their cheek, reaching an arm around their neck to stable yourself. Their cool skin ignites beneath the touch of your warm skin. The light on their camera blocks rapidly before fizzing out as the fire within the furnace lick its brick walls and bellow from its grates. You pull away as embers jump at the blanket you sat on, stopping them out before the flames spread.

"Whoa! Something must've fell in there. You alright, Tobi?"

The moonlight reveals the goofy grin Tobi wears. They shouldn't be greedy, but the night is so beautiful and young - just like you.

"Foreverurs :) donated 1 sub - how many more for a kiss on the lips? :)"

[fauustic]

the fear of losing this

too many people in my inbox got a little too comfortable asking me for “a fight between reader” as well as “miguel angst please” so i am combining both as i struggle to get through this writer’s block ))

gender-nonconforming reader x miguel “spider-man 2099″ o’hara

angst. little comfort. your universe is falling apart, yet miguel doesn’t want to let you go.

warnings: pure angst. light cursing? i’m not too sure, just lots of tears.

word count: 2211

The night sky of Nueva York shined brightly with the bustle of commute, highly advanced cars whirring softly through the clouds. Your mask hung from your hands at your side, bunched up in the anger that fizzed and popped in your bloodstream– threatening to explode at any given moment as Miguel brushed off your conversation with a stoic chill.

“You don’t understand how important this is to me Miguel–” your voice raised as you paced the highest level of the building, padding against the overly complex structures that mimicked webs. You would have laughed at the irony of having a headquarters so invested in the theme of spiders that even the ground you walk on replicated the symmetry of webs if the both of you were in any other given situation– but that joking persona that came with the gig flew and crashed out the window the moment Miguel brushed off and rejected your plans to return back home. “I need to be there, helping my people. What is the point of me taking up a spot in this ‘fateful–’” You dragged out the words, venom dripping from your tongue as you partially made fun of the organization he spent so much time on. “Spider Society if my own boss doesn’t let me return back to the place I belong in?”

“No, no.” His tone was blunt as he stood as rigid as ever; surveying your every move in a way that you could never guess what he was thinking, with or without the mask. “You don’t understand.” Miguel repeated your own words back to you in a taunt as one of his clawed hands fidgeted with the device that decided whether or not you could walk around or stay in a little bubble for the next week just like all the other prisoners were down below. “You created a problem in your own universe, that’s the problem we’re having here. You cannot fix it.” He practically spat his words, anger emitting from every rhythmic clang whenever he tossed the technology into the air and caught it with calculation. “It doesn’t matter whether or not you’re from that Earth, you put that place you so valiantly ‘protect’ into a state of emergency. Is that not clear enough?”

“Oh, sure– but the hundreds of other spider-people that can’t go one word without making a joke of the situation can fix my mess? Am I just some inexperienced rookie to you, Miguel?” You countered, ripping your gaze from his own. His features were exposed to you as his mask was off as well, the sunken circles beneath his eyes growing prominent when a vibrant car passed by and shone a striking yellow light into the corridor the two of you stood within. His usual expression made of stone chipped away with the stress he was under as a deeper frown made its way onto his lips.

Miguel sighed dramatically before pinching the bridge of his nose, turning away from you to mumble a jumble of incoherency. “God,” He repeats your name like it's a curse, “That’s not what I’m saying at all. It’s just not safe.”

You scoffed, eyes growing wide at the audacity of this man you have to call your boss. “Of course it’s not safe Miguel, that’s our job.” You couldn’t help but laugh in disbelief, pulling at the roots of your hair in any attempt to calm yourself down. “I risked my life every single day in my universe before I even knew of your existence, yet now suddenly I can’t?”

“This is different. For some reason these– these anomalies are running rampant in your world and it’s taking everything to finally have the problem at hand contained.” Miguel held his breath as if he had something more to say, but left it unsaid the moment you stomped closer towards him in a new fit of anger.

You shoved your palm against his chest, baring your teeth as a groan erupted from the back of your throat in a concoction of frustration and despair. “Exactly! That’s exactly the problem, Miguel. My people out there are suffering and fighting for their lives, surrounded by these people that are like me but aren’t me.” Tears began to well up in the corners of your pained gaze, humiliation washing over your consciousness as you sniffled and stifled a sob. Fauxe confidence and quips were something you specialized in, annoying Miguel in a little dynamic the two of you found yourself in as months turned into an entire year of being called in for missions. Emotions were never a thing the both of you have ever discussed with one another because it wasn’t your position to pry and he was never the one to initiate such conversation.

“If you just let me go, I’m more than willing to show you how capable I am.” It came out as a whisper as you turned away from him and began padding down the structural webs. Miguel was on high alert, you could notice as every glance felt as if he was trying to convince himself that no other member of his society occupied this part of Headquarters. He followed you close behind, claws digging into the beams of construction to reach the same floor as you without a word. The brooding silence that usually met your company could be sensed from any person in their right mind, and as you spotted the hesitation in each thud of his footfalls– confusion clouded your anger. So in a flurry of adrenaline, you webbed his next step to the ground with a ball of the substance you artificially produced in the depths of your makeshift and cozy lab, hidden away at your home in the world you desperately needed to save. It would give you time to finally just talk to him.

“¿Eres estúpido o qué? Do that again and I’m putting you in the–”

It wasn’t to hold him down, you know you couldn’t match his strength. It was to make a statement. 

You interrupted him, a newfound determination holding onto the little hope you had. “You follow me for one more second, I’m going through that portal and never looking back.” Brutally honest and uncharacteristically serious, the attempt at ripping his limb free was cut cold at the promise looming in the air. His frown fell for just a moment’s notice, mouth agape in shocked horror before quickly recovering himself. Repeating yourself more clearly as his attention was occupied, your body shined away while shaky fingers struggled to input the coordinates of your universe. But eventually it clicked, the AI voice of Miguel’s beloved Lyla sounded throughout the tension in a glitchy mess– notifying Miguel of the portal to-be seconds before it truly distorted the fabrication of reality in front of you.

Miguel dropped to his knees, struggling to claw off the web that had his foot planted to the structure. His breath quickened concerningly, shoulders heaving as the plan of his crumbled in front of him in an instant; all because he was not observant enough. You played him like an instrument like you always had, a pained groan from the back of his throat sounded and echoed throughout the space of the vast headquarters. “No, no, no..” He repeated, mirroring the despair you had on your features moments ago at the idea of not being able to save your people. You could never once recollect a fraction of a second where he allowed himself to convey the pain plaguing his mind, and as he reached out to you in a frantic heap of limbs– the walls of protection he hazardously built around himself came crumbling down by each shape contorting and twisting into a gateway to your world. “I can’t, I can’t lose anybody else–”

You stood there, heart breaking as the man who has had villains three times your size on their knees, collapse into fragments of himself at the mere idea of you leaving the security of his universe. Bursts of color painted the dark hues blotching upon white, igniting his fresh-tear stained cheeks in splashes of reds and yellows and greens. The portal was completely open, awaiting your entrance to return back to your familiarity– yet your senses buzzed alarmingly at each step away from Miguel. It’s almost as if you could feel the hole in his chest, searing away his soul he finally allowed himself to offer like a god’s offering.

You fell to your knees to hold his face in your suited hands, the waves of sorrow and grief infesting your mind like a sickness almost had you doubling over in pain. You could hear the cries of hundreds around his, no– your own heavy breathing, a confused and fearful little girl’s pleas for help overlapping the muddled screams. You felt the weight of a child in your hands before it was ripped away like a paper airplane in the wind, and soon your trembling hands met the purchase of his nape. Your body moved automatically, holding his face in the comfort of your lap while you shielded his gaze from the portal. Despite his power, the capability to snap you in two, you held him like a fragile doll that would break within any mishap.

“All this time, you never told me.” You sobbed into his hair, dampening his combed back curls with your tears and he only held your waist like you were the anchor in this unforgiving ocean of anguish. You have become one, the memories of his own mixing into the blur of yours's.

“I didn’t know how to.” He murmured into the purchase of your thigh, wetness seeping into your suit. But you didn’t care as your hands wandered all over his figure: a soft massage to the shoulders before quickly scooping his neck into your arms before finally settling on petting his hair back. “I, I haven’t allowed you to go to your world because a part of my thoughts can imagine your arms fading into a technicolor mess, falling into the clutches of another failed universe.” He forced himself to take a deep breath, gulping up air as the portal behind the both of you fizzled and popped.

“I can’t lose you too. I’d be so–” He hesitated, breathing in deeply just to choke on a sob. “I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.” He poured out the burdens weighing on his conscience, confirming your long-forgotten wonder that he was just as emotional when he was faced with his grief head-on; the same intensity seen in his short-tempered anger.

You simply hushed him, cooing reassurance that he accepted with greed. “Nothing is going to happen to me.” The rational fear being expressed aloud made your shoulders shake and head buzz with anxiety, but you steeled yourself at the reminder of Miguel melting into your tearful embrace like putty. You needed to be strong for him when he wasn’t, just like how he pushed himself to the greatest extent his body can endure all the times before. 

“It’s just, I can’t lose where I come from.” You worked at ridding his foot from your webs as your serene tone accompanied his sniffles, his breathing settling out bit by bit as you continued to finally explain yourself. In regards to Miguel's quietness, you genuinely thought he was listening. “You can’t keep me away and shield me from my own mistakes, O’Hara. It’s just not possible, I need a home to thrive and protect. Without my people, I’m going to disappear as well.” A snap of your webs trapping his limbs finished your little speech, indicating that time was up and you had a job to do.

“I’m.. worried.” He mumbles aloud, like the sentence itself was foreign on his tongue. “These creatures from foreign worlds, they are drawn to your universe as if there’s a pulling force. I haven’t been able to figure it out. It’s so infuriating, it’s like I can’t do–”

You intercept his little tangent as you grab his chin and lift his gaze to meet yours’, an unsaid question hanging into the atmosphere like an old letter to a former self. Do you want this? Is this okay? I’m scared of messing this up.

The question is answered as Miguel’s grasp finds purchase in your flesh, claws digging into your thighs like if he let you go you’d fade along with everything else of his. In a messy, salty clash of teeth against fangs and tongue against lips, Miguel lapped up every inch of your mouth like he had to memorize every crevice of your entire being. It’s as if the two of you have synchronized, being able to suspect slight changes in each other’s mood as he grew more needy with the introduction of desire bubbling against the forefront of your mind.

“We can do this.” You murmured into his cheek, hands dancing over his suit in case this was the last time you’d ever be blessed with his presence again.

Miguel nodded, heaving for breath before he snatched one last kiss– sincere and genuine and full of unfiltered affection. “Yeah,” His nose met the crook of your neck, grazing each curve it stumbled upon.

“Together, mi alma.”

[forgeofthenine]

Not a request this time, just a little fic based off the song 'Mrs Hollywood' by Go-Jo. Reader is Tav and they/them pronouns are used throughout.

Hopefully you guys enjoy, next one up will be a set of headcanons :)

The three times you leave Dammon, and the one time you stay

the first time

The excitement reaches its peak around the forge, tieflings bustling to and fro as they prepare. Dammon pauses at his forge, wiping the sweat on his forehead with the back of his hand before turning towards the familiar crunch of gravel.

"Hey stranger." He jokes, turning towards you. "Or maybe I should call you 'our hero' now." The correction comes as he turns fully, eyes taking in the figure before him.

God he wishes they could stay, that he and his forge could be enough. But they have their destiny ahead of them. Dammon is already sure he'll be but a small part.

"I heard you weren't coming to the party, I wanted to say goodbye to my favourite blacksmith." His chest tightens as you say the words, not wanting to let you leave, but Dammons knows this is how things need to be.

"It's hardly goodbye, you'll see us again soon, won't you?" The question is one neither can really know the answer to, but they smile and nod anyway and that's enough for Dammon.

The second time

They'd been lounging on the hay in his forge, two days of idle chatting as he worked and asking that ox with much to human eyes random questions.

The assault on Ketheric Thorm has kept them all busy, Dammon at his forge, them trying to form a plan. "What if I just have Gale disintegrate him, Dammon?" The question comes from the corner of the room, where they sit by the open arches.

"Can Gale disintegrate him?" Dammon asks, pulling back from his whetstone. "Maybe you should just use this." He gives the sword a little flourish, holding it out to them. Jumping from the mess of a hay bale, they reach for the sword.

"Oh, this is beautiful..." hands delicately take it, admiring it before stowing it away safe in it's sheath. Just as Dammon thinks nothing they do could surprise him, they're already pulling him into a hug.

Arms wrap tight around his chest as they press in close to him. "Thank you Dammon, I feel like my words just aren't enough." They murmur, Dammons own arms looping close around their waist.

"Just come back alive, that's enough, don't keep me here waiting."

The third time

Rolans words pause as the footfalls of boots echo up the stairs to Dammons new forge, and the blacksmiths attention turns towards the potential customer.

Excitement courses through Dammon as he sees them crest the top of the stairs, a bright smile adorning their face as they wave. "Hi Dammon! Oh, is Rolan here too?" They ask, looking between the two tieflings.

"A few things broke at his new tower during your fight, I'm just giving a quote at how much it'll be to fix." Dammon explains, seeing the way Rolan eyes how his tail sways as he focuses attention on them. It's hard to contain himself, but they'll never know or realise, the way his body reacts only obvious to other Tieflings.

"Well, I know you're busy, but I needed someone to look at my sword. It took a bit of a beating while we were, uh, doing an errand for Astarion." The end sounds more like question than fact, but Dammon hardly minds as he carefully takes the sword from their hands.

"No problem, I'll have it done by tomorrow. So long as the absolute don't invade the city by then." He winks at them, smiling as they laugh and turn away.

"I'll be back, then!" They throw up a hand as they start to walk away. "See you later Dammon, bye Rolan. As they leave a steady silence falls over the two men, Rolans eyebrow raising slightly.

"Still waiting in line for them, then, prince charming?"

Dammons only reply is to hang his head in his hands.

The time you stay

Parties rage through the streets, the celebration of the absolutes control finally being destroyed. Fireworks fizz and pop outside, children shout and squeal, men sing merry drinking songs.

It's no surprise Dammon stays inside. He's never been one for parties, that much is obvious. What is less obvious is why someone is knocking on his door so late.

Opening it with a stifled yawn, he soon sees the very object of his affections. Standing up straighter, opening the door wider to let them in, one question runs through his mind. "What could bring you here on a night like this?" He's in near disbelief, almost wondering if he nodded off as is dreaming.

"The parties are great and all but..." they trail off, looking down to their feel as they toe the wooden floor. Glancing up again, they finish their thought. "But they don't include you, Dammon."

He can't help the way he pulls them in by the arm, this time being the one to start the impromptu hug. Tail wrapping loosely around their leg as they sigh against his chest, Dammon feels the way their body sags against him.

"Stay." He tells them, face pressing into their hair, bodies curling around each other. "Stay with me this time, I've been waiting so long." The hands gripping his clothing hold him tighter, their face pulling from his chest to look him in the eye.

"Kiss me Dammon. I won't be leaving again." They barely get to finish their sentence, a hand finding the side of their face as Dammon does the very thing he's dreamt about for so long.

Even the fireworks outside can't compare to the ones when they finally kiss.

[waterdeep-weavemoss]

Beneath the Skin

This got a little darker than expected... Gale x F!Tav. Lorroakan regrets making a pass at Tav.

'I will be the one that you run to, my love is a burning consuming fire.' - Whispers in the Dark, Skillet

Taglist: @boufsy @owlseeyoulaterpal @lanafofana

@auroraesmeraldarose @aryancunin @miradelletarot @marlowethebard @silent-words

@netherese0rb @sorceresssundries @mumms-the-word @crimson-and-lavender

‘This is the right portal,’ said Tav with a decisive nod. She and Gale had gone to Sorcerous Sundries alone. There were few customers this time in the morning but the fizz and whoosh of magic, the small natural noises of manipulating the Weave, permeated the air.

‘I have missed this,’ said Gale excitedly. ‘Being surrounded by it all. There’s only so much novelty one can experience alone in a tower. Did you know that everyone’s arcane power feels subtly different?’

‘Like fingerprints?’ Tav asked, amused.

‘Like fingerprints,’ he said, booping her nose. ‘Let’s go in. I’ve heard stories of this Lorroakan, and if he’s anything like I’ve heard, I want this meeting to be as brief as possible.’ Taking her hand, he stepped through the portal. It was a strange feeling each time, like being in the wake of some great beast’s wings.

Ramazith’s Tower. Cliché, as far as arcane abodes went, with its rich carpeting, intricate golden scrollwork on its staircases, blue motes floating aimlessly in the charged air, and the enormous, ostentatious, desperately ugly throne of books whereupon perched Lorroakan himself; his red hair was pulled back neatly, one long leg thrown too casually over the stack making up the left arm of the throne.

‘Gale of Waterdeep,’ he said with false, mocking delight. ‘Things must be dire if you’ve deigned to leave that hovel of yours. Still Mystra’s lapdog, I see,’ he eyed Gale’s earring dispassionately. ‘There is far more to magic than gods, you know.’

‘Oh indeed?’ said Gale, feigning interest. ‘Do enlighten me. We really must share knowledge, after all.’

‘Speaking of,’ said Lorroakan, his eyes sliding to Tav, ‘who is this?’

‘Just an adventurer,’ she said, shrugging. Something about him raised her hackles. Gale squeezed her hand reassuringly.

‘Oh, come now,’ he stood and swept over to her, taking her chin in his jewelled hand. ‘The lapdog has his own precious pet! Adorable.’

‘I’m not his pet,’ snapped Tav.

‘She’s not my-’ began Gale, smirking when she got there first. ‘Well, quite.’

Lorroakan’s grip tightened on her jaw, pulling her head up to meet his eye. He was tall, not so tall as Gale but almost, and his eyes green as poison  glittered with foxlike scheming. ‘You didn’t bring me the Nightsong,’ he said, ‘but perhaps this is the next best thing.’ With the flick of a wrist he cast hold person, freezing Gale in place. ‘Has he been honest with you, my dear? Do you know the darkness within him? The destruction he could bring down upon us?’

‘Get off me,’ Tav snarled, wrenching from his grip. ‘I see him. And I love him.’

‘Then you know he’s poison,’ hissed Lorroakan. ‘Rotting from the inside. He won’t last.’ He lunged forward, his hands closing on her throat. ‘I could give you so much more. Immortality. The world.’ His nails dug into her skin, his eyes manic and intense.

‘You’re mad.’ Tav’s eyes widened as he pressed his thumbs to her windpipe, feeling her bend under the pressure. Break, you bastard, she thought. ‘Look, maybe we can talk this through-‘ she grabbed his wrists, tried to gulp some air. He watched her throat, eyes narrowing.

‘You’re trying to distract me,’ he hissed. ‘To free that creature you think loves you.’

‘No, I’m not.’ She let her eyes go as doe-eyed as possible, willing tears into her eyes. ‘I just don’t understand. His body brims with power, with forbidden magic. Isn’t that what you’ve been seeking? What if the Nightsong isn’t what you think?’

‘You’re clever. Just not clever enough for me. You’re a tricky little thing. But that’s alright. I can make you see reason.’ He crowded her toward the throne, his hands keeping her eyes turned to him. She felt the muzzy edges of his magic pressing into her consciousness and gritted her teeth, digging her heels in even as she passed the threshhold of a binding sigil. Only then did he loosen his grip, stroking over the bruises with near reverence. ‘I’ll deal with him, and then we’ll figure out what to do with you. Yes, that seems like the best course of action. You poor thing, you have no idea what you want and even less idea what you need.’ She watched his face for any lapse, hid her dismay as he turned to Gale’s frozen form. ‘World ending power from a dead empire, and he can be stopped in his tracks by something so simple. Pathetic.’ He turned back, snapped his fingers, and she felt the magic surrounding her tighten like a fist. ‘You will learn to be grateful in time, I think.’

It was only when he leaned in to crush his lips to hers that she felt the room go cold; in the same instant that she plunged the point of her dagger into his thigh, the redhead went flying backwards, crashing with such force into the wall that blood bloomed from his hairline. He screamed, gurgling horribly as the sound violently choked off. It took Tav a second to register what she was seeing: Lorroakan pinned by the throat, his feet clean off the ground and kicking ineffectually at Gale, who was snarling into his face.

‘Give me a reason,’ he breathed. ‘I dare you.’

‘You’re punching far above your weight, dog,’ ground out Lorroakan. ‘She truly is beautiful. I’ll enjoy her-’

Casually, almost lazily, Gale backhanded him across the face. Lorroakan glared in furious, terrified silence, a trickle of blood oozing from his split lip. ‘If you speak like that about her again, I’ll kill you. Release her.’

‘I’m afraid I can’t,’ he said, trying and failing to sound nonchalant. He looked terrible; blood dripped from his wounds, and his hair was matting with it.

Gale tightened his grip, his eyes flooding with shadow. Tav drew back as though burned, her heart crashing in her chest as she watched. ‘Gale? Gale! That’s enough, stop!’ She could do nothing, encased as she was in Lorroakan’s suffocating magic. It felt like some kind of creeping thing, like fingers ghosting up her body, breath in her ear, closing in.

‘No, my love,’ he said icily, terrifyingly calm. ‘This is necessary.’

‘See how she cries for me?’ Lorroakan bared his teeth in a pathetic attempt at intimidation. The colour drained from his face when Gale smiled, sharp toothed and hungry. ‘What in all nine hells are you?’

‘Your personal nightmare.’ Whatever shadow magic possessed him now poured from him, tightening around Lorroakan’s neck and setting him on the very tips of his toes. ‘I might think of letting you down when I’m done.’ Turning his back, he moved towards the sigil, all grace and horror.

‘You’re really starting to scare me.’ Tav’s voice cut through the shadows and he blinked, his eyes briefly returning to normal. ‘Don’t let it corrupt you.’

‘To keep you safe? I would let it.’ He turned back to Lorroakan, struggling in his shadow bonds. His lip curled into a snarl.

‘Gale.’

‘Come here,’ he said to Tav, holding out a hand.

‘I can’t move.’ She pushed against the magic holding her, dismayed to find it wasn’t held up by focus. It pushed back like bruising fingertips, tugging at her hair, plucking at her clothes.

The shadowed thing before her growled, rounding on the bound wizard and lunging for his throat. ‘NO!’ he screamed as Gale came at him, teeth latching bloodily to his windpipe. He screamed, a horrible drawn out shriek, and went silent. The magic holding Tav fell away, and she stumbled backwards, her eyes wide as Gale calmly dropped his corpse and turned, his teeth dripping with gore.

‘It’s over,’ he said, sounding almost normal. ‘Tav. Come.’ He beckoned. Too terrified to speak, Tav approached him warily. Drawing her to him, he stroked her hair, pressed her cheek to his chest. ‘Nobody will ever hurt you again.’

[weebsinstash]

Babe! A new Helluva Boss episode just dropped! And Ozzie and Fizz are just so goddamn cute! 😍😭 and Ozzie is such a sweetheart! (I hope he’s genuinely such a softie and not playing an act, we need more softie demons).

Can we please talk about Yandere! Ozzie again? Pretty please with a shit ton of sprinkles on top? 🥺

Bestie thank youuuu I watched that shit immediately and I have so many thoughts

This episode actually shows a big reason why I haven't really published a lot for like, Ozzie or Valentino in terms of actual fics because, my take on Ozzie's personality based purely off his debut appearance would've been a lot more different and now we see that, bro he's, suave yeah, but also, a huge green flag lovable cinnamon roll dork??? Valentino, we only have seen so much of. To be honest the way he's been presented seems to sway from "scary as fuck during gangster business stuff" to "he's kind of a ratchet ho, actually" and I'm not, entirely super confident writing stuff for him because like, I'm more of, assuming? I can't, analyze his character like I can for other characters with more material out for them.

For real though, my current stance on this matter is: Asmodeus, you could go to him and ask for his knowledge and advice on like genuine issues or things you're curious or concerned about like, legit you could sit down and have STD talks with this man ("h-hey Ozzie is it normal to have xyz on my you know what" "oh honey yes that's just like a blood blister from friction you're fine" "oh my god ok good because I was worried it was cancer" "HONEY NO 😩") meanwhile fucking Valentino over here would be like "bitch why you got cellulite" and like make backhanded comments like, oh maybe he could reward you with a boob job instead of your next paycheck (as in like, cosmetic surgery 💀 you know I've thought about that? Yan Valentino who's crazy for ya but, not crazy enough to not make certain, tweaks to your actual body. Maybe he dyes your hair or has it styled a specific way and basically refuses to let you do whatever you want with it. Gets your boobs or ass done. Makes you get fillers/botox for any wrinkles/static lines. Controlling your wardrobe is a must. You're like his little.... pursedog)

(That being said though. I'd still let him hit 😩 reader who gets drunk and fucks around and finds out--)

Anyways though, over here in our corner we believe in unapologetic self indulgence and I still believe a Reader who has magical abilities or powers and whatnot and can travel the rings through whatever convoluted means is a fun time. So. We're gonna do that! I mean. Asmodeus honestly seems chill enough that even if you like, somehow crashed into his club, as long as you were polite and respectful, he'd be chill with letting your hang around, maybe even getting a kick out of teasing you (but never pushing anything too far unless you show interest, and if you show any discomfort or trauma he backs off to re-strategize). I imagine his club would actually be pretty fun? Drinks, live music, although, kind of makes me wonder, how openly horny is this place? Probably not like "coochie in your face" like working for Valentino, so, Reader could even be all "honestly this is such a much more safe welcoming environment to engage in like sexuality" and Ozzie hears this and its like, dude. You might as well have just struck him through the heart with cupids own arrow, but, also, he's curious, what other places have you been?

I'm kind of convinced that if a little imp cunt like Crimson thinks he has the balls to stand up against Ozzie, hostage or not, I kinda feel like. Valentino would probably openly treat Asmodeus like shit. He'd probably be a catty fucking bitch to him. He probably looks at Ozzie as like, a diet coke version of himself, a version who has so much power but doesn't go far enough, and probably scoffs at Asmodeus' romantic attachment (even though Val has some weird on-off thing with Vox himself). Valentino doesn't give two fucks about consent and would probably openly mock Ozzie'e values

Or. They could be big business partners because, maybe there's some sort of inter-Ring porn trafficking pipeline or something, smuggling the good shit up from Lust and trading it with stuff from Sinners, who have more visual variety besides other perks etc

But just picture, Asmodeus and Fizz are, minding their own biz, at the club, chilling, listening to music, eating food vaguely shaped like clocks, and Ozzie's cell rings, and they're both like "aw I bet Reader's calling to say they're having fun at that party or whatever" but they answer it and you're like, hiding in the bathroom or a closet or something, crying, whispering under your breath "d-do you still have a place for me to stay like you said before 🥺 Valentino is really, REALLY drunk tonight and he's really scaring me, he grabbed me and--"

They're both at your exact location in like less than 5 minutes and maybe have to play it off, Ozzie distracting Val while Fizz steals you away, or, juicier, like. Imagine Val snatching your phone from your hand, going through your messages, "who the fuck have you been talking to?" And he pulls like the classic abusive boyfriend move and when he sees you're in frequent contact with someone named "Ozzie" he calls him from your phone and as soon as a male voice picks up, they're both going at it "bitch who the fuck are you?" "Bitch who the fuck are YOU?" "Why you got my baby's number?" "Why do YOU have MY baby's PHONE???" "I'm about to HAVE my foot up your ass, you--" like, you know what I mean? Asmodeus is rolling up and these two are all but butting heads with each other as you have to awkwardly explain how you know both of them and of course, suddenly there's a not quite comfortable conversation about which one of them you... "belong to", neither of them wanting to leave you with the other (although I imagine in a physical fight Asmodeus would win but Valentino would have homefield advantage involving his security dudes)

Either way like.... oh my god watching them lounge in that nice big bed together. Fizz being on Ozzie's chest, like. Give me that 😩😩😩 "oh Reader, baby, so glad you took up our offer for a place to crash, but, since it was so short notice it'll have to be with us tonight" type shit and like you're fine with that but then bedtime comes and. There's Literally Only One Bed. And you're like ok you know what I'm not really in a position to be ungrateful, Valentino could have actually fucking hurt me or trafficked me or whatever, but, you're still small enough that Asmodeus could hypotheticallyyyy just, reach an arm over and scoop up you into his chest for a cuddle, or just have you in the crook of his arm like a cat or a teddy bear. Ozzie definitely sees an immediate perk on Fizz not being so much of a troll as to give you the airhorn treatment your first morning there, so, obviously, they have, multiple motivations to, keep urging you to stay 👀 after all, Val is going to be looking for you in the Pride Ring, and you don't have any other friends, so, you're kind of stuck with their whims aren't you? Unless you try to run off on your own, and I mean. Really. They can just hire someone to bring you back lmao. Or get you themselves. Could you imagine feeling way you uncomfortable around them and slipping away and suddenly you find a little white demon dog on wheels happily rolling up to you out of nowhere and it's. Fucking tracking you for Fizzarolli and Asmodeus, like. Damn, can't even trust the dogs in Hell. Demon dogs in Ohio be like

Anyways idk I just like the idea of like. Combining several ideas, you do the whole "accidentally did the whole Death Fall From The Sky and crash into Vals sunroof, he keeps you in servitude because you have to repay him, eventually you Fall into Lust and you start basically doing double jobs at both clubs and prefer Ozzie and he eventually has to rescue you". Also like Valentino "canonically" humiliates his partners on social media so I can imagine he's just publicly belittling and negging you all the time. One second you're happy at Ozzie's listening to music and eating unholy amounts of onion rings with your quirky well intentioned clown friend, the next week Asmodeus sees a Sinstagram post where Valentino is just like "cutie was whining she couldn't get any tips so I helped her out 😜🤭🍈🍈" and its just. A photo of you in your work uniform where he clearly just reached forward and tore open the front of your blouse and he is just. Full on deadass without any hint of irony making you basically work in your bra and he's just without any remorse posting photos of your running mascara and you're clearly crying but what can you do?

Val posting a photo of him literally shoving a tip INTO your bra, his FINGERS in there, and other like little clips and snippets of him demeaning you while you're like actually fucking blubbering "and make sure to get me extra ice!" "*sobbing noises*" "I didn't hear a REPLY! Do I need to take some of those nice tips I'm helping you make?" "N n noOo I'm sorry" "sorry WHAT?" "M sorry mister Valentino, I'm sorry, I'll get your drink right away mister Valentino" and Val is just slapping your ass HARD as you turn to leave like and just laughing like this is the most fun he's ever had

like I feel like Asmodeus realistically would only be able to do so much IN Pride itself (because would You show up in your boss' turf doing your own shit? Big risk) BUT, I mean. You go down to Lust and you're basically fair game. You show up to your next shift after The Boob Incident and Ozzie's like "giiiiiiiirl imma keep it real with you, I know you wanna try and be independent but I got some concerns--" and he's barely even halfway through it before you're just, TEAR EXPLOSION, "i hate working for him, I HATE IT, I wanna work HERE full time, but I don't have a place to staAaaAaay" and just. Some UGLY crying because you're at wits end

Zero hesitation here's Asmodeus "Sweetie what kind of apartment do you want??? You want a penthouse? I can get you a penthouse?? You want some shopping money?? Tell Big O whatever you need." and the next thing you know Valentino is scrolling through Sinastagram and has to do a double take as your account starts posting all kinds of photos of you looking cute and having fun and, poolside in a bathing suit and you're becoming more comfortable with your body and your sexuality and, he's thirsty absolutely, goes to try and tease you or make fun of you and you're just like "you wanna fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid" and just ignore him as Val is forced to watch you pal around with Asmodeus (either as just friends or total fuck buddies like, deadass catch me out here "hey so, there's this position I've always wanted to try--")

[sweetandscarlet]

a/n: hope this is okay for you anon! just a quick drabble i typed up before i go to sleep <3 ps, thank you for the kind words :)

ᗢ

behind closed doors

warnings: 18+, smut, mommy kink, breeding kink, dirty talk, intersex!stepmom wanda, bratty reader, degradation, cheating.

words: 1.9k

“oh honey, that is not how that story goes and you know it”

you roll your eyes at the sound of the group you’re apart of laughing in an ear piercing uproar, the sound grates your ears and you bite back a wince at the sheer volume.

“i swear that’s what happened.. unless my old age is getting to me”

it was your mothers turn to speak, her words are in response to your step mothers’ first comment, in regards to a story that in your opinion, no one really gave a fuck about; but they all laugh along, eager to appease your mother and her boring sense of humour.

you shifted slightly on your feet, your hands tugging downwards on the hem of your dress before something catches your eye.

a waiter, mere seconds away from passing by you holds a tray of flute glasses in one hand that is filled to the perfect point with expensive champagne. you quickly snatch away a single glass and raise it to your lips, the bubbles fizz at the brim, the smell of limestone invading your nostrils as you take a delicate sip.

it’s an acquired taste to say the least, but you ignore the aroma, letting it hit your palate as you gulp down the rest of the drink. you feel eyes on you and just as quickly as you obtain the glass, it’s just as swiftly taken away from you.

you gasp softly, looking up to see green eyes that beam with fury. “you’re not allowed to be drinking y/n, don’t do that again”

the voice is low and seething with anger, instantaneously it causes a smirk to twitch at your lips upon hearing it. “oh i’m sorry wanda, i needed something to wash down the bullshit, you can hardly blame me”

wanda’s eyes narrow, a snarl curling in her lips as she speaks. “you pathetic little girl, can’t you just keep your snide comments to yourself for one night? this is an important time for your mother, you know that. now shut your mouth and show some respect”

silence had quickly fallen on the group, all eyes focused on the intense scene unfolding before them. your mother watches from the sidelines, embarrassment evident in her face as she stands by idly.

your mother was never one to correct you, always too careful with her words and too afraid to grow a back-bone and put you in your place. wanda on the other hand was the complete opposite; she had quickly grown to be the one who stepped up, even in the short two years that you had known her.

it honestly wanted to make you laugh. your own flesh and blood, too scared to reprimand you, but someone you had known for over 24 months was brave enough to take matters into her own hands and portray some dominance.

“i don’t have to show you shit wanda, you’re not my mother. now if you’ll excuse me, i’d rather be anywhere else but here”

you turn your body to leave, your feet stepping forward to take you out of the banquet hall and away from the fake facades that radiate from everyone in the room like a bad smell.

a hand latches itself onto your wrist, the grip firm in its placement that quickly stops you in your tracks.

“carry on everyone, i think y/n just needs some fresh air” wanda steps past you, her feet moving with determination as she drags you along behind her.

you remain silent as wanda moves through the crowd of people, taking you out of the hall and into a corridor that’s home to multiple doors that lead to god knows where. it was quite excessive in your opinion but you don’t reflect on it for long as wanda flings open one of the wooden doors and pushes you inside before she steps inside after you, pulling the door shut behind her.

the room wanda had charged you both into seemed to be an office. bookcases rested on the outskirts of the room and picture frames that held famous quotes and paintings hung delicately on the walls. behind you situated a large oak desk and you shifted backwards until you leant against the hard wood.

“what is wrong with you today? you aren’t usually this.. bitchy” the redhead mutters, her voice much less sterner than it was previously. “the way you spoke in there, i have half a mind to wash your mouth out with soap”

you shrug your shoulders, not really having an answer for the woman before you. instead, you choose to direct the conversation to something you have more of an interest in. “or you could spank me? that’s usually your go to punishment, mommy”

a glint of amusement flashes in your eyes along with a smile that soon spreads across your lips.

wanda tilts her head and you watch as the gears turn in her mind while she reflects on your words. “oh” she elongates, “so that’s why you’re being such a brat, huh? your slutty little pussy is turning your brain to mush and all you can do is act out like a child”

wanda steps forward, her gaze never faltering as she approaches your smaller frame. even in high heels the redhead stood taller than you, making you gulp as she looks down at your strong demeanour that quickly starts to fade the closer she gets.

“if you wanted my cock darling, all you had to do was ask. this whole ‘i hate you’ illusion is getting old, especially when we both know how much you love being my little breeding whore”

your eyebrows knit together as you bite down on your bottom lip, not letting out the whimper that’s threatening to escape from the back of your throat. “but it’s hard to ask when everyone else has your attention but me! do you know how hard it is to see my mother fawn over you like a lapdog while others gather around you to hear that stupid wedding story for the umpteenth time?”

wanda juts out her bottom lip in a feigned pout as she steps closer once more until your hips soon connect and your breasts press flush together. you feel something hard protrude from the confines of her suit pants and you can’t help but gasp at the feeling.

“oh honey, you don’t have to be jealous. this is what you do to me,” wanda accents her words with a jut of her hips, her cock pressing harshly against the inside of one of your thighs. “not her.. you know i have to play the doted wife when it comes to these fancy parties, image and reputation is important”

a groan escapes your lips when wanda moves her hips again, you feel her grow harder behind the soft cotton and you instantly wrap your arms around the back of her neck, pulling her in for a hungry kiss; something you had been dying to do ever since you left the house hours prior.

wanda moans against your mouth, her hands moving to grasp the back of your thighs before promptly lifting you on top of the desk. you break the kiss, huffing at the impact before quickly collecting yourself to move your head forward, peppering sloppy kisses on the base of wanda’s neck. “it doesn’t make it any easier”

“i know, detka. but, you’re mine.. all mine. don’t let your dumb little brain forget that”

you nod with a breathy, “yes mommy” before continuing your work against wanda’s soft skin. you nibble and suck at her neck, careful not to leave any marks.

you had learned your lesson long ago when you got a little too rambunctious and left a hickey below wanda’s jawline, she loved how you wanted to mark what was yours, but she had to punish you on disobeying her orders.

never leave evidence, that’s how you get caught, she said. and wanda wouldn’t let anyone ruin what you two had together, especially not over something so simple as a love bite.

wanda’s hands thread through the length of your hair, grasping a handful before tugging backwards until your mouth detaches from the comfort of her skin. you look up at her, panting slightly and wanda can’t help the twitch in her cock at your doe-eyed expression.

“god.. you have no idea what you do to me. you’re so beautiful, detka. so beautiful and all mine”

wanda’s free hand moves down her stomach until it lands on the leather belt that wraps around her waist snugly. she quickly unbuckles it and then shifts to unzip her pants, the item of clothing swiftly falling down until it bunches around her ankles.

“i have to admit, you aren’t the only one who’s desperate tonight. the way you look in this dress is mesmerising, and all i wanted to do was rip it off you and stuff you full of my cum”

you moan out, not caring for the volume as her filthy words echo in your mind. “please, mommy. that’s all i want, i need your cock so bad”

wanda chuckles, releasing her grip from your hair so she can let her hands fall to the hem of your dress. “yeah?.. you want mommy to fuck her cum into you? get you all good and pregnant?”

you moan once more, your hips bucking at the question. “yes yes, i do,” you let a hand snake its way past wanda’s arms, searching for the one thing you crave right now. once you do, you cup her cock through the material of her boxer briefs, grinding your hand against the hard member slightly until you feel it pulse under your touch. “fuck me, please”

that’s all it takes for wanda to tug at the hem of your dress until it collects around your hips. the mouth watering sight of a red thong now on display has wanda groaning and thrusting her hips against the palm of your hand, her body desperate for friction.

“i love it when you wear these skimpy little things. you look delicious, my love”

as much as wanda loves the sight of them, her attention lies much deeper than that; behind the thin barrier that stops her from seeing your bare form.

you mutter an, “all for you” before wanda grows impatient and yanks down the material. the cold air hits your now uncovered pussy, pulling a sharp gasp from you as you watch her blindly throw them on the desk behind you.

the redhead trails a single digit through your slick folds, a soft moan leaving her lips at the feeling. “such a messy pussy, i’m betting i could easily slide right inside”

your head falls to rest on wanda’s shoulder, your mind reeling at the touch of wanda’s hand. “mommy, don’t tease.. please. we can’t be gone for too long”

wanda tuts at your avidity before promptly speaking. “hmm, you’re right malysh. we don’t have a lot of time, everyone will be wondering where we are.. and we wouldn’t want everyone to know the daughter of the esteemed ceo loves to be fucked stupid by her step mother, would we?”

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Nobody's Girl - Chapter Four.

So, since it's Good Friday, allow me to be good to the NG bookclub! I think this is the chapter that people have been most excited for, so without further ado...

Previous chapters - One Two Three

Taglist - In the comments, please DM to be added/removed

Words - 4,656

Warnings - Adult content throughout, minors DNI!

Awaking the next morning, Emily rolled onto her back, away from the warm body that still acted like torture upon her emotions, sighing to herself. She’d hugged up against him, but he hadn’t reciprocated beyond holding her hand and kissing it, leaving her sexually fizzing into an utter frenzy, so acerbic that sleep had done little to quell the desire she had for the king of the mafia.  

Still, he slept on, softly snoring beside her, Emily lying there at the utter mercy of everything that coursed through her blood like wildfire. It forced her hand, literally, licking her fingertips and reaching beneath the covers, pulling her nightgown up as she let her thighs fall apart, her fingers stroking softly over her apex, humming quietly as her eyes took in his chiselled back.  

Staring hard, she fantasised about him turning over and catching her touching herself right at his side, how it would feel to be touched by a man who possessed his kind of experience, the twenty-year age gap doing nothing but stoking her want to have him all over her. She willed it, dared him even, through each sweep of her fingers, for him to turn over and take over, show her how a real man touched a woman, bring her to the heavens with his prowess.  

And then, he did.  

“Busy hands, honey?” he asked sleepily, noticing immediately what she was doing. Even though she wanted it, her energy calling out like a siren to him, her shyness made her cease. He tutted, preventing her hand from moving away. “Carry on, doll. But let me watch.”  

He pushed the covers off of her, his stare fixing upon her for the first time, pupils inking as a long, laboured breath fluttered over his lips, feeling himself beginning to harden instantly. She closed her legs immediately, and he tutted, a hand smoothing between her thighs to stroke them back to parted. “Let me see you, bella donna.”  

The green sparks of his rapidly blackening eyes bolstered her confidence, letting her legs fall open, her fingers resuming their soft stroke. It was so intimate, to watch him watching her, the heat of the connection between them still not acted upon crackling like a firework fuse, lit and primed to explode, Luca not able to prevent his reaching for her.  

His hand pressed against her chest, heated and eager in its glide, his mouth leaning to her neck, kisses raining, Emily gasping when his fingertips joined hers.  

“Oh, god,” she moaned, closing her eyes, her hips rising from the bed. “Please, don’t stop.”  

He groaned against her throat, fingers trailing further, teeth gently nipping her skin. “I could have a hook pierced through my hand being towed by a chain, and it wouldn’t be enough to stop me, baby.”  

She felt him open her, two fingers pushing within, the sensation shooting up her spine, Emily jolting, blinking a few times in utter confusion before it dawned on her. Turning to her side, he was lying on his back, eyes fixed upon the ceiling. Oh, god! Had she moaned in her sleep? Had he heard it?  

“Morning,” she spoke shyly, his eyes flitting to her.  

He looked at her with a slight smile, his focus returning to the ceiling. “Did ya sleep well?” 

“I did. And you?” God, she felt so awkward. 

“Yeah, ‘till you woke me. Nightmare? You groaned kinda loudly.”  

If the ground was ever going to open up and swallow her...  

Before she could shame herself with rapidly pinking cheeks, she climbed from the bed, heading for the bathroom. “I don’t remember my dreams, so I’ve no idea.”  

“Ah,” he breathed, the bathroom door closing with a thud. “Wish I didn’t.” The only thing that had ran through his brain all night was dreaming of beating Giacinto Calabrese to death, each blow connecting until bone shattered to mere fragments, the man’s skull reduced to soft goop. In his dream, he’d then turned to see Emily there, her eyes wide with horror, whispering the words that had broken him.  

“You’re just like the rest.” 

It wasn’t true, either, and that was what killed him. He was worse, and he always had been. He didn’t meet her eyes when she left the bathroom, picking up his clean clothes and entering, Emily pulling on some underwear and a dress, moving to the kitchen and making coffee with a sigh. Coming to realise that he would likely be nothing but approving if he’d guessed she was having a sex dream about him, she had to conclude he was suddenly being quiet with her for another reason. But what?  

Her heart ricochetted into her throat at hearing the bathroom door open, daring to glance over at him. He moved to one of the large sets of windows, twirling the blind rod until they opened, looking down at the street below. Picking up the other coffee, she carried it to him, holding out the cup.  

“Thanks, doll.”  

Her eyes snapped to his hand immediately, damage present that she hadn’t noticed in the dark the night before, or that her shame hadn't allowed her to witness so far that morning. “What in the name of...” she trailed off, reaching for his red, slightly swollen knuckles. “What happened?” 

“Gave someone a beating,” he surmised, bringing the coffee to his lips and blowing before taking a careful sip. 

“Who?”  

He looked at her for a second, eyes darting away again. “Giacinto.”  

“Oh,” she breathed, wondering what had reared between them this time, even though of course she knew that the families were pretty much in constant battle. “What did he do?”  

He took a breath and another sip of coffee before placing the cup down on the windowsill, eyes casting downwards, his thick, black lashes concealing the bright green that then met her gaze with strong intent. “Raised a hand to you.”  

Her eyes widened a fraction, her heart somersaulting within her rapidly tightening chest. Finally, there he was. Somebody who wanted to protect her, a person she had both needed and craved her entire life. “You, you beat him up? For me?” 

His shoulders tightened a fraction, sagging then, reaching to stroke her cheek. “For other reasons, too.” Lie. “Mostly for you, though.” Lie. It had solely been for her, and she saw it right there in the way he looked down at her. “Give me a minute, darlin’.”  

He left her standing there breathless, moving over to the other side of the apartment, lifting the phone to his ear to make a call. She didn’t get the gist of it at all, Luca speaking exclusively to whoever was at the other end in Italian, her feet taking her back over to the end of the bed and sitting down. Once he was done, he resumed his place at the window, the atmosphere between them growing heavy.  

“Will you be in trouble, for beating him?” she asked, the tall Italian not replying right away.  

“Probably,” he spoke with nonchalance, his mouth curling into a slight smirk. “Ain’t nothing I can’t handle, though. He wanted you back, Emily. I told him that wasn’t gonna happen.”  

Another silence followed for a time, Emily taking a breath. “Am I safe here, Luca?” 

He sniffed, running his long, tapered fingers through his hair, his magnetic green eyes moving from the street below over to her. “From them, yes. But maybe not from me.”  

She gulped, and he saw it, the fear flashing through the storm grey of her eyes, moving to crouch before her, resting his hands upon her thighs. “Not like that, honey. I ain’t gonna hurt you, but the more time I spend with you, the more I fuckin’ want you more than any other woman I’ve ever met.” 

And he did. He wanted her so badly, it drove him to maddened distraction. She was unlike the women of his past, the fiery Italian broads who matched his ire and deafened his senses with their brashness. This dainty, quiet little creature was all sweetness and softness, a light he knew the dark in him was drawn to, a helpless, enchanted moth to her flame.  

He wanted to sink his teeth into her, eat her like a ripe summer peach, but he held himself back, resisted the urge. She was too delicate for it, for the lust that prowled through his veins like a fire breathing dragon. His heat, he knew, would burn her to ashes, yet Luca never assumed for one minute that Emily actually wanted to feel his fire against her skin. 

After all, she’d handled much worse than a horny Changretta. 

Reaching for his face, her dainty fingers toured the scars, shuffling nearer to the edge of the bed, the potent smell of his skin and cologne heady upon her senses. Her touch rained like rose petals over everything in him that was hard and foreboding, her fingernail idly tracing the black cross marked upon the side of his neck.  

“Maybe I want you just as much.”  

When she replaced her finger for her lips, his blood set to boil, heart hammering, a neon blaze of arousal illuminating his insides as his hands began to slowly creep up her thighs. How he managed to continue tethering his want for her, hanging onto it like a roped in wild bull, he didn’t know, the flick of her tongue against his throat setting his teeth to clench. “You sure?”  

She’d had enough of being nobody’s girl, coveting to be his and his alone. Her soft lips laid kisses along his jaw, a bloom like no other fluttering through her insides when she felt him grasp her underwear, but pause, awaiting her permission. “Yes, Luca. I’m very, very sure.”  

Green met grey in an unblinking gaze, his breath hot against her cheek, hands pulling her underwear down her legs, her fingers trailing over his chest as their lips met at last. He let go of the rope in that moment, setting the bull free to charge, and how it did as he pushed her back onto the bed, settling himself between her thighs as he kissed her with every last drop of longing he’d held ever since she first walked into his life.  

Her insides tingled with the arousal of it, feeling a man atop her for the first time, skilled hands smoothing over her body, her clothes removed as his kisses rained over her neck, Emily suddenly feeling the sharp pinch of nerves as her nudity was finally exposed to him. Her arms moved to her chest, covering herself, Luca seeing it in her face as her muscles stiffened.  

“You ain’t ever been with a man before, have you, bella donna?”  

She shook her head.  

Taking her arms, he unfolded them, sitting back on his heels as he looked down at her. She was so breathtaking, he almost felt faint. All that beauty, and he was the first man she’d trusted enough to enjoy it. And boy, how he would. “S’okay, baby. I promise you’ll enjoy it. Fuck, you’re so damned beautiful.” 

She felt it, too, watching the path his hands took as he toured her skin, lowering to her again, kissing her with hunger. He wanted to be wild with her, show her a new world of everything sexual, devour her completely, but she still lay a little tense beneath him. It had been a long, long time since he’d been with a virgin, Luca knowing well he needed to pull himself back a little again for the sake of her comfort, but god, she didn’t make it easy.  

He wanted to shred his clothes to tatters in order to feel the bare press of her flesh against his, but let her be in control of that, eventually feeling her hands move to begin undressing him from the finely tailored suit still acting as an annoying barrier, her mouth gliding from his neck to his chest as she unbuttoned his shirt and waistcoat.  

Feeling her relax, he smiled, panting as her hands explored him, her skin so lily white against the olive of his flesh, dark and light entwining as she wrapped her arms around him, hands trailing over his back. He was all lithe muscles and sharp angles, but his body melded to hers perfectly, fit like a missing jigsaw piece, Emily enjoying the heat of his skin against hers, beginning to yearn. 

Her fingers undid his pants, her heart amping up a few notches at realising exactly what was straining for release within. The bashfulness of knowing that she had no clue what on earth to do with it once he was fully naked prickled through her, his hard cock springing free, her eyes widening a little. She had no base for comparison, but oh, it wasn’t small.  

Curling her hand around it, she marvelled at how hard it was, encased in such soft, dark skin, her mouth moving back to his neck as she squeezed, but then stilled, feeling a little useless until he reached down, covering her hand with his own. He guided her touch, his other hand stroking her face as he stared at her, the want in his eyes killing her shame at not knowing what she was doing dead.  

“Like that, baby.” he whispered, releasing her hand, letting her go it alone. “Fuck, yeah that’s good.” 

She felt empowered by his praise, even more so when her hand reached the head of his hardness and her thumb skimmed the tip, oozing fluid onto her, a deep, lust drenched moan rattling his throat. It arrowed her insides, feeling herself becoming wet as her walls tingled, repeating the same action that had roused that primal sound from him.  

When he made it again, his mouth crashed against hers, a kiss of torrid thirst as their tongues entwined, his hips swaying against the pump of her hand. She gripped just a tiny bit harder, experimenting a little, a slight twist of her hand pulling more sounds of approval from him, her wrist suddenly grasped. “No more.” She thought she’d done wrong for a moment, a little shard of panic grazing against her chest, Luca pinning her arms above her head. “Feels a little too good.”  

Relaxing, she lay there and instead surrendered to him, his mouth gliding to her tits, lips closing around her nipple. Tiny daggers pricked her flesh as she felt the warm suck of his mouth, not releasing it until it stood hard, a pink pebble he flicked his tongue across, kisses descending while trailing his hand to her thigh, shifting as he stroked the soft skin, creeping ever closer to where she ached to be touched.  

His fingertips finally met her petals, dewy and warm, pulling a soft groan from him. “God above, you’re so fuckin’ wet.” 

Her eyes widened, looking down at him with trepidation. “Is that a bad thing?” 

Oh, she was so sweet and naive. He chuckled quietly, tongue circling her navel. “Uh-uh, no way, honey. No way in this world is a pretty, soaking wet little cunt a bad thing.” She expected him to begin working his way back up to her mouth, but instead, each kiss was peppered lower, his tongue gliding over her hipbones as his fingers gently stroked at her, Emily feeling a little uneasy suddenly when she cottoned on to exactly where he intended to place those kisses.  

When he finally did, though, tongue pushing through her folds to lick at the syrupy wet of her, her eyes closed, head thudding back against the bed, the feel, the intimacy of it, his mouth on her most sacred of places, was absolutely mind blowing. Mind blowing, and not what she’d expected. 

“Oh... I um, I didn’t think Italian guys liked doing that?” 

He snorted a soft laugh, raising an eyebrow. “Where’d you hear that bullshit?” 

“Around,” she spoke, her eyes darting away, embarrassment pinking her cheeks.  

“Ya did, huh?” he rumbled, giving her inner thigh a little bite before he pushed the flat of his tongue against her folds, dragging it slowly and firmly. “Not this Italian, darlin’. Trust me, you ain’t gonna see my face for so long, you’ll forget what I look like.” 

He repeated the action, Emily shivering from the heat of his mouth. “I’m fine with that.” 

He chuckled, deep and raspy, his tongue flicking the bud of her clit before he kissed it softly, still smiling at how wrong her assertion was. “Thought you might be.” The pressure of each lick was like a blaze of stars twinkling through her, his fingers joining, stroking her folds until he held them spread, tongue pressing her clit as it began to rotate a slow, firm circle.  

The beautiful whimper that spilled from her lips almost made him come on command. “Think she likes my tongue.”  

“Oh god... don’t you dare stop!”  

He laughed, low and dirty against her, lips wrapping her clit in a soft, warm suck. She almost cried at that, Luca knowing exactly what he was doing to her. “You gettin’ feisty with me? Making your demands, huh?” 

“Luca! Stop using your mouth for speaking!” she whimpered, her chest rising and falling rapidly.  

He looked up at her, arching an eyebrow, his gaze flitting between her and her gleaming sex a couple of time before he winked. “Alright Guess I’ll say what I gotta without words.” And god, how he did. Long licks from her streaming opening to her bud told her exactly what he wanted to say, that she was beautiful, that he couldn’t get enough of her, that the nectar of her hot little cunt drove him out of his senses with rampant desire.  

His mouth upon her was unlike anything she could have imagined, hot and eager, so expert in how he touched her, each lick bestowed having the kind of focus that tore little cries from her throat, her walls flexing as her clit hardened against the fast beat of his tongue. She’d never even touched herself with that kind of knowledge before, the experience he had in shades awakening her to the divine.  

The pleasure tumbled through her, her blood running hot through her hammering heart, fingers combing his raven hair as her hips shook. She was alight and glowing from the tight circles pressed over her bud, his fingers slipping down to push inside her, sinking in deep, stroking at her until she wailed, her thighs skimming the sides of his face.  

Those clever fingers slid back and forth with god-given dexterity, speeding up, coaxing noises from her that made his cock harden even further, the need to be inside her all-encompassing. Emily could feel it, the climbing pleasure weaving through her like a creeper vine ascending, his fingers and tongue working her faster as her cries filled the air.  

She didn’t understand how something already so good could keep on feeling better, her cunt hugging upon his fingers as her body went rigid, and then... white hot bliss poured over her bones, every fibre of her being ablaze with the nirvana of her first orgasm. He watched her keenly as she writhed, her body jolting before her muscles all relaxed, the afterglow gleaming her like a summer dawn, a smile crinkling his eyes as his tongue gentled against her, but didn’t cease.  

“Luca, oh my god,” she panted, trying to push him away. He had other ideas, though. “Stop, it’s too much.” 

Shaking his head as he gently sucked her folds, his eyes seemed to glow brighter, the peridot flecks gleaming, glittered by the triumph of her pleasure. “You told me not to,” he shrugged lightly, tongue still lapping lazily over her sensitive clit. 

“I know, but really, it’s too much!” 

A soft grunt welled his throat. “Not yet it ain’t, doll.” Her thighs closed around his head, Luca grumbling, turning to bite her flesh, laughing quietly when she squealed, his fingers softly stroking over the puffy, ruined wet of her pretty folds. “Can't expect me to stop right now. A woman always tastes the sweetest right after she comes." 

“Is that a fact, huh, my handsome man?” she laughed softly, her chuckles like sweet music to his ears. 

Hearing her call him that, her handsome man, his heart skipped on a beat. Taking her hand, he shifted up a little, placing a soft kiss against her inner wrist. “That’s a fact, cara mia.” His mouth returned to her, each lick carefully laid, until her sensitivity passed and once more his touch elicited nothing but moonbeams. She’d once overheard a woman speak of the fact that Italian men were the greatest lovers on earth, and so far, Emily had to confess that she was in complete agreement with such a statement.  

His hands stroked over her body, making her feel nothing short of worshipped by him, the coolness of his gold rings contrasting deliciously with the heat of his fingers, Luca clutching her thighs and keeping her spread wide for his mouth, unabating as he continued to lick and suck at her.  

“Got another for me, huh baby?” he murmured, reading her body expertly as her breathing became more rapid, her soft curves quaking as he teased fire through her veins.  

“Mmhmm!” she hummed, lips clamped tightly as her hands fisted the covers either side of her head, writhing against his mouth. His lips pulled at her clit in a hard suck, tongue flicking at the tip, her release a flurry of pleasure that glimmered up her spine, leaving her breathless once more. 

Emerging from between her legs, he kissed his way back to her mouth, pausing to gaze down at her, fingers stroking tenderly over her cheek. “You got no idea how fuckin’ beautiful you are, do you?” 

Reaching between them, her hand grasped his cock. “This tells me pretty well.” He laughed softly through his nose, shaking his head. Her other hand moved to cup his face, thumb stroking over his smile. “This tells me, too.” His lips parted, sucking the tip of her thumb as she guided his cock to her, his body falling a little more to hers, sinking in with a fluid push.  

Her mouth fell open, his eyes questioning as he stroked her face, Emily answering with a nod as she pulled him closer, kissing him with soft, syrupy heat. Bottoming out, he pulled back, the slick hug of her around him beautiful, watching the desire dance in her eyes as she gasped at being filled up again. It knocked her sideways, being breached so deeply, his mouth claiming hers as their lips crushed together in a passionate, consuming display of arousal. 

“Holy fuck, you feel like fuckin’ heaven.” he groaned deeply, mouth leaving hers to bury at her delicate neck, the drum of her pulse bouncing against his eager lips as he glided effortlessly in and out of her heat. Her walls clenched around him, snugly enclosing his cock in wet heat, making him shudder against her body as they writhed together in complete and utter bliss.   

She twinged a little at being split around a cock for the first time, little pinpricks of pain that merged with the divine pleasure of such heated thickness invading her, Luca repeatedly reminding himself to keep slow, knowing he was a lot to get used to.  

Helpless, soft little exclamations fluttered over her lips, his fingertips stroking them, gently grasping her jaw and turning her head to sear her mouth with his once more. Her hands glided over his shoulders, delighting in the delicious feel of him beneath her palms, sparks skittering over every single nerve. 

He felt heavy both atop and inside her, pressing into her so forcefully, Emily felt herself drowning in his consuming passion, his raw masculinity, everything about him imposing, but in such a way that he could have poured into her forever and it’d never be enough.   

She felt drunk on him completely, Luca locking his arms around her, lifting her body as he sat back on his heels, letting her sink down onto his cock. She clasped on around him, thighs tight at his hips as she felt him even deeper within her walls than before, clenching on him, stroking his face as they shared more kisses of pure, erotic frenzy.   

The hunger she keened with for him was unmatched, her body opened like a flower before the sun, drinking up the rays of warmth he gilded her with. He let her to find her own way upon him, allowing her to set the pace he then began to move in time with, groaning at the slow, rolling rhythm. It might have been all brand new and shiny for her, but for Luca, he couldn’t remember the last time when sex had felt so blindingly intimate.  

Her hips bucked into him, ensnaring his slippery length with each undulation, his hands grasping her ass and hauling her closer, wanting to be even deeper within her. His teeth grazed at her throat, nipping at her lily pale skin, deep moans flowing from his mouth to hers as they shared kisses of fiery honey once more.   

She swallowed them back, her cunt hugging him in a series of strong flutters as they undulated together so perfectly, she never wanted him to retreat. It was scorching, one hundred percent passion, and lord, it was everything she’d ever hoped sex with him would be. 

He shifted her higher on him with ease, her thighs loosening their grip as he bucked up against her with thrusts that hit hard, his mouth everywhere, sucking and tasting her petal soft skin, her head tipping back, exclamations of bliss pouring from her mouth.   

She stared deep into the twinkling green of his eyes, continuing to roll against him, the heat of his cock scorching her insides, saturating him in a gloss of her arousal. His hands drifted up her back, grasping her shoulders, nuzzling her softly while pulling her down against his thrusts as he moved with greater friction beneath her. 

Tensing around him, she began to pant against his mouth, her cries spilling out like a fountain bursting into life, his hand splaying over her hip between them, thumb stretching to rub tight, firm circles at her clit.   

Each one drew the wildness out of her more, Emily grinding on him almost savagely in the pursuit of the ultimate undoing, taking him by surprise at the sudden urgency she displayed. She rode him with all the intensity he fucked her with, their bodies colliding together frantically.  

His muscles flexed with effort, deep, furious grunts peppering the air as his body stiffened in spasm, his cock twitching and spurting deep, glazing her cunt with cum as the lightning flickered, her spine tingling and thighs shaking.   

He had her cresting hard against him, nails grazing his back as her release struck home, a bonfire of pleasure roaring through her so torridly, she felt completely unmoored. The hammering of his heart against her breast eventually brough her back from the cloud she floated on, feeling dreamy and drunk, smiling as he kissed her.  

“Damn, you sure ride wild,” he panted. She laughed, Luca lying her down on her back, his cock exiting her with a slippery pop before he lay on his side next to her. “Whatcha thinkin’ about, baby?” 

“That I’ve been seriously missing out on something so amazing for a long time.”  

He kissed her shoulder, fingers idly tracing around her nipple. “Glad I could be the one to show ya. Gimme a half hour to recover, and I’ll help you make up for a little more lost time.”  

Moving closer, she hooked her leg over his hip, fingers trailing over the soft, dark hair upon his chest. “Is that a promise?” 

The way he kissed her said it probably wouldn’t even be half an hour.  

[finniestoncrane]

2.5k Event Request - Paladin Danse x Fem!Reader word count: 950 a/n: lord help me, there's very little i want more in this world than for danse to bend me over his knee and spank me. i don't think it's too much to ask for ;-; cw: daddy kink, spanking, my god he's so awkward but he's TRYING 🔞minors dni🔞 • masterlist • kofi link • tag: finnie2.5k (to follow or to block)

You were well aware of the fact that you were bothering Danse, but when he had asked if you would like to accompany him to his quarters on the Prydwen, you’d thought it might be the beginning of a more interesting relationship between the two of you. Instead, he had needed your help passing him tools as he tinkered with some old tech he had found on your travels that day. For a while, you’d been able to stave off the boredom just by watching him, admiring his body out of his power armour, finding him even more attractive in the grease-stained vest and waisted overalls than even in his tight, burnt orange jumpsuit. But even that had lost its intrigue when you realised that you weren’t going to be seeing what was underneath. Not unless you did something about that.

It began with some playful teasing, asking too many questions, taking his tools from him when he needed them, sitting next to him on his bed, far too close, your hands laying on his thigh or on the back of his neck as he tried to focus. You’d thought a few times that you were getting through to him, but he wasn’t having any of it. And you reached his final nerve, watching him place the hunk of junk down on his side table and turn to you, stern look on his face, dak, thick eyebrows narrowing into a scowl.

“Are your intentions to drive me to the brink of insanity?”

“No… but come on, Danse! We’re on downtime. There must be a little bit of you that wants to let loose.”

“I can assure you, there is not.”

“Oh my god, it’s like hanging out with some strict parent.”

“Maybe if you could behave, I wouldn’t have to act like your father.”

A twinge travelled down your spine, excitement fizzing in your chest as the implications of his words settled over you.

“Oh… my father? My dad? Maybe I should be punished for all of my misbehaving then?”

“Maybe you should.”

“R-really?”

Your words were quiet, pushed out with a little whimper of excitement, and Danse noticed the change in tone. He looked up at you, confused about the slight smile on your face. It was as though you actually wanted him to punish you. And while your little grin, and the notion of dishing out the repercussions for your actions, brought on a little tingle in him, he wasn’t sure how to follow through on the threat. So, he grunted and turned his eyes away from you.

That just meant that you would have to keep this line of thought going.

“I think you should punish me, daddy.”

The word had an almost primal effect on him, his pupils widening as the way you let it slip over your tongue echo in his head.

“Does that sound good? It does to me.”

Swallowing the lump of nerves in his throat, he coughed before he spoke.

“That sounds counterintuitive to the idea of punishing you, given that you seem excited by the idea.”

You reached for him, your palm pressing against the thick bulge that had begun to form at the front of his pants.

“I think you’re a little excited by the idea too.”

Danse caught his breath, releasing it slowly as he decided to try and indulge you.

“Well. How do we proceed?”

You hadn’t considered that this would be a little bit awkward for him. He was so firm and stern, it seemed like it might come naturally. But he needed a little bit of encouragement. He needed someone else to be forthcoming.

“I don’t mean to be so forward, but…”

You pushed your pants down, positioning yourself over his lap, cheeks in the air feeling his cock twitch against you as he took in the curve of your rear.

“… maybe you should spank me. Just to start.”

The idea was definitely appealing to him. He had always been a firm believer in corporal punishment as a method of getting the squires in order. And though pain should have been the first thing on his mind, given this was not a reward, he couldn’t help himself. He let his palms glide over your cheeks, gripping them firmly, your flesh soft and warm, so pleasant to touch. Your soft moan reminded him of what he was really doing, though, and he lifted both hands from you, one of the resting on your hip to hold you still as he raised the other.

And then brought it down with a loud, sweet smack.

Then another, relishing in the way your whole body twitched and then relaxed, the way his handprints marked your skin like he had branded you.

Another.

Another.

Until you were squealing with delight, and likely a little in pain. At which point he decided to check in, not wanting to actually do too much damage to your soft skin.

“Did my- uh… daddy’s punishment teach you a lesson, then?”

It was sweet, the way he was trying to say what he thought you wanted to hear.

“Yes, daddy.”

“Good girl. Now, do you think you can behave? I can reward any good behaviour going forward.”

“Of course, daddy. Anything for you.”

He stood up, lifting you from his lap as he did so and then pushing you down onto his mattress. As you watched him, a rare smile forming on his thick lips, he dropped himself down onto you, a flurry of surprisingly passionate kisses covering your neck as he let his hands explore your curves. The idea of punishment had gone entirely from his mind, it was only pleasure he sought from you now.