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dollfacefantasy · 3 months ago

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BIRTHDAY GIRL ♡

pairing: clark kent x fem!reader

summary: your boyfriend forgot your birthday :( how ever will he make it up to you...

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, oral sex (f receiving)

a/n: happy birthday to @fearcvlt!!! one of my sweet friends who i love so so much. i hope you're having a great day bb <3 alsooo just fyi to everyone, there will be no part 2 to this.

From the moment Clark woke up today he’d been busy, busy, busy.

Given that it was a Saturday, he hadn’t expected the influx of tasks thrown at him. However he’d never been one to complain, so instead of moaning and groaning, he handled each thing as it came.

In the morning, he had to go into town to pick up a few things for his mom. On the way back, he had to stop by the Talon to discuss some details of a recent wall-of-weird incident with Lana. At some point later on, Lex was then calling him up and asking for his assistance on something.

He felt like he spent more time behind the wheel of his truck that day than on his own two feet with how much he was having to go back and forth across the familiar streets.

Really, every moment of Clark’s schedule over the past week had gone something like this. Packed full from dawn till dusk. He had tests to study for and essays to write. His regular responsibilities on the farm never let up as did his small circle of friends asking to do something or the other. And recently, there’d been a strange string of accidents that he felt compelled to investigate.

Last night specifically, he’d been occupied with Chloe and Pete. What was supposed to be a couple hours of research stretched into a few laps through the woods looking for a variant type of meteor rock and then a car ride to Granville and back. Once he finally got home, he passed out for a couple hours and then scraped himself out of bed to get through all of today.

Now in the evening, he finally had a moment of quiet. He sat by himself on the Torch’s computer, fingers tapping away at the keyboard as he looked into connections between all the components they’d found over the last several days. His eyes flicked across the tiny words glowing on the computer screen. Most of the time Chloe handled the research aspect of their investigations, but he felt so close to having this resolved. With a few more details, he could have this thing cracked in an hour.

The sound of footsteps approaching the door pulled his attention away from the article in front of him. He knew from the quick rhythm of them, they belonged to Chloe. His eyes flitted to the entryway as she appeared. She greeted him without any words, her usual smile and slight wave serving as enough for the two of them as she came in and set her stuff down at her desk.

“You must be really invested in this whole thing if it has you working late all alone,” she teased while shrugging off her coat.

“Something like that,” he responded as his gaze drifted back to the screen, “I’m glad you showed up. I think I really have something on this guy.”

“Oh that’s good,” she said, looking much more interested at the prospect of new information. Coming up behind him at the desk, she skimmed the article over his shoulder. “You know, I thought you’d be with your girlfriend tonight, Clark,” she added as she reached for the mouse to scroll down.

His brows furrowed at the mention of you. While he could talk about you for hours and hours, he didn’t understand the point in her bringing you up now. It felt like a joke going over his head. She’d said it with the normal dose of teasing she used towards him, but the statement as a whole sounded earnest.

“Why would you think that?” he asked.

“I don’t know. I just thought you guys might do something for her birthday. I know she’s not having a party, but I guess I assumed she’d still want to hang out with you,” she answered. The way she said it was so casual. It wasn’t meant to mock or come off as a gotcha. That was what it felt like though because in that moment Clark realized something.

He forgot his girlfriend’s birthday.

Actually, that wasn’t exactly true. He hadn’t completely spaced the event. Last weekend, he’d planned this all out in his head. He called in a reservation at your favorite restaurant, stashed away a few small things to give you, even made a note of where he was gonna buy you a cupcake from. It was just that over the past week, he’d gotten so busy and distracted that those plans faded to the back of his mind. Today, he hadn’t even looked at the date, hadn’t even put together that today was your special day.

But none of the excuses mattered. No matter how he put it, when it actually counted, he forgot your fucking birthday. And maybe he could have played it off like everything was a surprise, that he’d only been pretending to be so oblivious and inconsiderate, if not for the fact that his truck should have been in front of your house an hour ago because he told you he’d pick you up for dinner.

He shot up out of his chair so fast that it fell backwards and smacked against the floor. His hands ran through his hair as he frantically tried to think of what to do. Such a strong wave of panic washed over him that he almost burst into super-sprint right in front of Chloe.

“Clark, you didn’t,” she said, looking back at him. He didn’t even have to say the words for her to surmise the reason for his reaction, “That’s bad, even for you.”

“I know,” he agreed, blue eyes still wide and full of worry, “How could I forget? God, I thought about this. I had all of it figured out. This was the one thing I wasn’t gonna miss.”

“Well the day isn't over yet…” Chloe offered with a slanted look.

He rubbed at his brow for a second before nodding. Of course he was gonna try to make it up to you. His mind just didn’t work as fast as his body. He still had to figure out how on Earth he was going to explain this, let alone justify his absence to you. But he could do that on the way to your house. He really didn’t have any more time to waste.

“Yeah, you’re right. I’ll have to go try to make the most of how ever many hours are left,” he mumbled.

She nodded in support. “I’ll take over here. You go save the day,” she said.

As soon as Clark was out of her line of sight, he bolted. He zipped into a blur, ditching his truck in the parking lot in favor of his own speed. Later he could come back to drive it home. He didn’t have seconds to spare at red lights or finding parking as he collected the things he needed.

It took him around five minutes to pull everything together. He grabbed the pale blue gift bag from his house, picked up a cupcake from the store (the last one they had), and snatched a bouquet of flowers on his way out.

Every step of the way to you, words of apology ran through his mind, ranging from I’m so so sorry, I’m such an idiot to I swear the truck just broke down, I couldn’t get service, but I’m here now. He tried to think of something that would make this salvageable, but truly, this was his worst screw up with you so far. He’d been late to dates before. He’d forgotten important things. But standing you up on your birthday? That might be the fatal blow to your relationship.

He slid to a stop in front of your porch steps. All the windows in your house were dark. He knew your house would be empty with your parents out of town, but he couldn’t even see the glow of your small tv shining up in your room. Dread bubbled inside him as he realized you could have still gone out without him. It wasn’t like he wouldn’t deserve it, but the possibility didn’t sting any less.

Steeling himself for the possibility of no response, he walked up the wooden steps and across the floor panels to your front door. He took a moment to run his fingers through his windblown hair. With one more deep breath, he shifted the flowers to the crux of his arm and knocked on the door. The gift bag hung off of his other wrist while that hand held the small box with your cake in it.

Five seconds passed and then another several moments of silence too. He resisted the urge to knock again. You could just be taking your time.

But after another bout of quiet went by, he tapped his knuckles against the door again three times. If you didn’t answer this time after another minute, he’d have to regroup, he told himself.

That minute went by the same as the last though, and he still didn’t want to leave. He considered saying something or calling for you through the door; though, at this point in time, he wasn’t sure if his voice would be a strong selling point.

He waited another handful of seconds before raising his fist. Third time’s a charm, right? But before his fingers could make contact, he heard the lock unlatch and the knob twist in that clunky way it always did. Relief fizzled all through his body before he even saw your face.

The door cracked open. From what he could see, the interior of your house was as dark as the windows led him to believe. The nearest streetlight doused the small sliver of space in a faint glow. He could see your leg covered in fuzzy pajama pants and the side of your upper half adorned in an old oversized t-shirt. Your face appeared seconds later. At first, your expression looked neutral. Well you looked sad, but you didn’t look angry, which was what he had been afraid of.

Then your eyes lifted to look at his face, and once they registered the sight of the person before you, that fire lit up in an instant.

Immediately, you tried shutting the door, but he was quick. He stuck his foot forward, jamming his boot in the entryway to stop it from closing. The pressure didn’t really hurt, but he still winced for show.

“Baby, wait,” he pleaded, “I know you’re mad, and you have every right to be. I deserve it-”

“Save it, Clark,” you gritted through your clenched jaw.

You threw your entire body weight against the door in an attempt to shut him out. He could hear your feet scraping against the floor along with your soft grunts as you tried forcing it closed. It would probably be cute if he didn’t feel so guilty.

“Just hear me out,” he tried again, “I’m sorry for being late. I’m really sorry. There’s no excuse that would make it ok, so I won’t even try to give you one. But please, sweetheart. I brought you some stuff, and it’s still your birthday-”

“You’re more than late! Late is fifteen minutes! Late is when thirty minutes pass so you call and explain you’re stuck in traffic! Late doesn’t mean an hour goes by and you finally show up because you realize you don’t have anything better to do, so you might as well!” you cut him off.

You couldn’t have said anything worse to Clark in that moment. He never wanted you thinking this was intentional, that he chose to be anywhere else that wasn’t with you. Now he pushed back a little. He leaned into the door, using his strength to scooch you further into the house and allow himself room to slip inside. As he did, he let some grunts slip out and even took a few seconds to give the illusion that you had a fighting chance.

“I swear this wasn’t on purpose. I’d never choose to make you wait or make you think that I don’t care or something,” he continued. A hint of desperation laced his words now. “I didn’t even forget. I’ve been planning this, and I had it all laid out in my head. I just… I just lost track of time. And it’s my fault, but I can make it up to you if you let me.”

You had turned away from him once he actually made his way into the house. Your body stood stiff as a board. He couldn’t even see your face to get some kind of read on how his words were coming across. And even worse, you weren’t saying anything back. He hesitated, mentally debating whether he should proceed with his pleas or give you a second. But ultimately, the former won. Logic and Clark didn’t mix well when it came to getting in your good graces again. He would do anything to make that happen.

“Honey, I know I missed the first part of the night, but I’m here now. And you’re here, and you look beautiful like you always do. And it’s still your birthday and I have some stuff for you,” he added.

“It’s not about the stuff, Clark. It’s not about what day it is or whatever,”you responded. You turned around to face him again. In the darkness, he couldn’t really make out your features, but your voice cracked. He didn’t need any light to know how your eyes were watering right now. How your lip was wobbling in that timid pout.

He hated that he was so familiar with your disappointment.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, though this time they came out much weaker, like the sound of a dying soldier.

You took in a shuddery breath, either in preparation to yell at him or to maintain what you had left of composure. Neither happened right away. That almost felt worse, leaving him to burn under the heat of anticipation.

“I just… I don’t understand you. You can be so sweet. So caring. You make me feel like you really love me, but then you do stuff like this,” you finally said. Your voice cracked again, but this time it nearly stopped your words from coming out. You were losing a battle of your own against your tears.

“I do really love you,” he replied without a second thought. He dropped the flowers onto the nearby end table, shoving the gift bag and small box on after it. His arms opened for you as he took a step forward. He only hoped you wouldn’t push him away.

But you didn’t. You took the same step with your own feet and let him embrace you. The warmth of his body engulfed you all at once as his big arms looped around your frame. One of his hands found your head, cradling it against his chest.

“I do love you, baby. Always. I never want you to think I don’t,” he said softly.

You sniffled and squished your face against his chest. He held you tighter against himself. It didn’t feel tight enough. It never did for Clark. He always wanted you closer, held more securely, but he had to hold back if he didn’t want to shatter your bones.

“Hey, hey. Don’t cry,” he cooed, planting a few kisses on the top of your head, “Don’t cry, babe. Please. I’m not worth it, alright? I don’t want you so sad over my stupid mistakes.”

While you weren’t saying anything, the weight of your emotions filled the air all around you. They were practically tangible to Clark - the disappointment and betrayal. The insecurity he caused. The pain he inflicted. He was almost glad you usually stayed silent while crying because he didn’t think his Kryptonian DNA would save him from being crushed by your words. At the same time, you didn’t have to speak them for him to understand the potential sentiment. He could tell from the muted nature of your sadness right now. You had gotten your hopes up. You believed that because tonight was special, it would be different. He would show up, and it wouldn’t be like countless other dates and occasions.

He stood there with you in the hall, rubbing your back and rocking back and forth with you a little. After a few minutes, he nudged your head back with the tip of his nose. “Let me see those pretty eyes, baby,” he whispered.

His own vision had adjusted to the dark by now. When you tilted your head upwards, he could see the small spheres all glossy, your lashes wet with the recent tears. He leaned in and kissed the shiny streaks running down your cheeks. The right one first, then the left. His hand cupped your face with all the care in the world.

“There’s my girl,” he murmured as he brushed the tip of his nose against yours.

You gazed back into his bright blue eyes. God, you knew you should make this harder for him. He deserved to work for your forgiveness, but nothing made you weak like Clark. One glimpse of his eyes all wide, looking at you like a scolded puppy, and any anger towards him melted away like ice left out in the summer.

He laid a few more kisses along your face, moving his lips from one feature to the next. “You’re too sweet to be crying like this on your special day,” he said.

His thumbs swiped away remaining tears while your eyes began to dry up. Warmth filled your body again, blooming up in the hollow cold left by your prior loneliness. Looking at his face pushed the sadness away. Maybe today hadn’t been totally ruined.

“I won’t let this happen again, alright?” he told you in a hushed tone despite no one else being in the house. He made sure not to promise though. “I’ll get a calendar or something. I’ll write notes for myself. I’ll write ‘em all over my body like in that movie we watched last summer.”

“The movie that you left halfway through,” you said, your voice gently teasing now.

He exhaled sharply, and a smile spread across his lips. His eyes held a degree of shame still. It felt wrong to laugh about something like that when it was a piece of the issue at hand. But he could tell you were trying to lighten the mood, and he wouldn’t make you feel bad about that.

“I still got the idea,” he defended and ducked in, giving you another long kiss.

His arms pulled you tighter against his body while his hands swept down onto your back. One stayed between your shoulder blades as the other ventured South. His fingers glided over the small of your back, coasting over the top of your ass.

“Let me make it up to you,” he said.

You bit your lip at the sensation of his roaming hands. Allowing him a few more smooches, you finally pulled back to catch your breath for a moment.

“How do you wanna do that?” you asked.

He grinned, those sharp canines peeking out near the corners of his mouth. “I have something in mind, but any way you want is fine, baby,” he murmured.

“You can try your way…” you agreed. You had an idea of what he was picturing, and it wasn’t something you felt the urge to interfere with.

“Try,” he repeated playfully before pulling you into another series of kisses.

The two of you stumbled away from the front door and your gifts left on the end table. His feet followed yours down the hallway in the direction of your bedroom. Your back bumped into the wall a few times before you both slipped through the entrance of your room and found your ways to the bed.

The backs of your thighs hit your soft mattress first. Your smooth skin rubbed against the floral sheets spread over your bed. You let yourself fall back, and Clark’s body went with yours.

You shifted around, scooting up so that your head was on one of the plush pillows near the top of the mattress. He ended up with his frame hovering above your own. Only a few seconds passed before he pressed his lips to your again. Sometimes it felt as though Clark could kiss you all night. He paid so much attention to your lips, put so much dedication into every flick of his tongue and teasing pull with his teeth.

Your hands tried to return the same amount of reverence with their touches. You rubbed them up over his broad shoulders and along the nape of his neck. Your fingertips twisted the ends of his dark hair before sliding between the strands and scratching his scalp.

A groan rumbled up from his chest. You responded with a softer moan of your own. To go with the sound, your legs rose up against his sides and pressed into his hips. You pulled him closer, subtly urged him to tend to you where you wanted him most.

He finally pulled his mouth off you a minute later. His breaths now came out in harsh pants. The warm air fanned over your face while you stared up at your boyfriend. A cute shade of pink filled his cheeks while his pupils dilated with lust for you. His lips shimmered with your saliva under the faint light of the moon beaming through the window.

“My perfect, pretty girl,” he mumbled before dropping his head to your neck.

His attention focused there now. He kissed all over the column of your throat, moving without much strategy. Most of the time, Clark was very eager for you. He explored your body based on pure desire and nothing else. It always ended up feeling good for you though. Seeing his passion was half the pleasure.

While his lips worked above, his hands groped at you below. His large palms massaged your hips and smoothed up and down your sides. His fingers kneaded your soft flesh. The feel of it alone had him starting to fill out in his jeans.

“You deserve so much, baby. So much more than I give you. Gonna try to make you feel how much you deserve,” he muttered against your skin, lust-fueled thoughts escaping without resistance.

At your waist, his fingers hooked over the hem of your pajama bottoms and gave the fabric a shove. “Lift your hips for me, honey,” he directed.

You did so without a question, allowing him to pull the garment the rest of the way off. It was so frustrating for Clark sometimes. He had the ability to literally tear your clothes to shreds. If he wanted to, those pants could have been gone faster than you could have asked him not to rip them. But for now, he still had to play the game by normal rules.

He moved his way over to your collarbone and placed a few kisses along the neckline of your shirt before migrating South. His hands fell from your hips to your thighs. He gave them the same treatment, squeezing and grabbing. But he wasted no time in parting them.

With one palm on each, he spread you open for himself and settled between your open legs. The sight of your panties greeted him. The dainty cloth covered the precious part of you he was aching to see. He stared at the material for a moment. It wasn’t wet yet, but it was tight against your folds. He could see so much of you without really seeing anything at all.

Leaning in, he kissed your pussy over the fabric. It was chaste. Something less sinful than anything he’d done to your mouth. His thumb came next. He ran the thick digit from the bottom of your slit all the way up to your clit. He kept the pace nice and slow, teasing enough that a shudder came over you as you fought the urge to squirm.

His eyes flitted up to your face. He couldn’t get enough of how cute you were. The desperation was written all over your face.

“I’m not gonna tease, sweetheart. Not on your birthday. Not when I already made you wait too long,” he cooed.

His long index finger hooked around the seat of your panties and gave them a good tug. He worked the small scrap off of you and tossed it to the floor. They landed near the mirror. He only noticed because beside it was a dress, slung over the back of a chair. It was lacy and layered and cute. Probably the one you had on earlier. He could only imagine how sad you looked while taking it off and swapping it out for the more comfortable clothes you had on now.

He had to make this good for you.

Returning his focus to the junction of your thighs, his eyes fixating on your cunt in front of him. Your folds gleamed with the beginnings of arousal. His teasing had been just enough to get the fire started inside of you.

He looked back up at your face and brought his own that much closer. “You don’t know how lucky I feel to call this mine,” he said before kissing your clit.

A broken whine crackled out into the air. The touch was so gentle, so soft. It didn’t really feel like much. But the sight of him, the sound of his voice, his mere existence had your body reacting like a live wire right now.

Clark stuck out his tongue and dragged it up the wet expanse of your pussy. The first couple licks were exploratory, but after a few more, they became greedy. He lapped at your cunt. The tip of his tongue swirled over your entrance and danced across your sensitive bundle of nerves. His eyes fluttered shut at the taste of you.

Meanwhile, more sweet noises poured from your lips. You whined and moan, a few times only managing to choke out a breathy mewl. One of your hands clutched at his hair while the other alternated between clawing at the blankets and covering your face. It flipped back and forth between the two, trying to find the one that would bring some stability.

Nothing you do could fight off the feeling of him though. His lips spread and closed, making out with your pussy. He got louder down there. Wet noises echoed between your thighs. None of them bothered him. He was wrapped up in the task of pleasing you. Nothing else mattered.

Clark didn’t get embarrassed in moments like these. Sometimes while on top of you he could get flustered, but with your pussy like this, he couldn’t string together the thoughts that would cause actual embarrassment. All he could fathom was a craving for more of you.

In these moments, you surrounded him completely. Your thighs wrapped around his head, pressing your skin against him. Your taste flooded his mouth. Your scent filled his nose. All he could hear were your needy cries. It was heaven, absolute paradise.

Grabbing your legs tighter, he held you in place more. You hadn’t started squirming yet, but by the time you felt the urge to, you’d be pinned in place. Somehow he put more effort into this now. He boosted your hips a bit before devouring you.

His mouth worked with desperation you’d never seen from him before. You called out his name before choking out another moan and letting your head fall back. He ground his hips into the mattress below him, chasing whatever physical pleasure he could find to match the bliss he felt inside.

While on top of you, Clark could run his mouth. Endless babbles of praise and cooed praises would fall from his lips. But right now, he was fixated on using his mouth for something more important. He could feel your muscles flexing against his tongue, clenching around nothing. You were getting close.

“That’s it, baby. Feels good?” he asked when he finally pulled himself back for some air. His fingers took over his mouth's duty, rubbing your clit fast and with good pressure.

Your hips bucked as a yelp flew out of you. Despite that, you still nodded as fast as you could. “Mhm. Gonna cum,” you whimpered, as if he needed the warning.

“Go ahead, birthday girl. You can cum whenever you're ready,” he said. He smacked a kiss on your thigh before diving back in and nuzzling into your cunt. His tongue swirled with fervent admiration before lashing over your little bud.

The rapid motion flicks you right over the edge. You gasped before whining. Your hips squirmed while you closed your fingers into a fist around Clark’s hair. You grabbed the soft tresses so tightly you might have pulled a few out. He didn’t complain about any of it though. How could he? It felt like everything in the world was perfect when he had you like this.

He rolled his own hips against the mattress a few more times. You were so caught up in your own release that you didn’t hear the whimpers coming from him. You didn’t catch the vibrations from his moans reverberating against your skin. His own pleasure did nothing but spur him on to keep working you through yours.

As you started to come down, he was still going. His movements were a bit sloppier, but he didn’t have any plans of stopping. It was when you whimpered and pushed at his head that he backed off.

He looked up at you. Despite the smirk on his face, his voice came out gentle. “No more? You too sensitive?”

You nodded. “If you can stay, we have the whole night,” you offered.

His smirk broke into a full smile, and he crawled up the mattress to peck your lips. “I can stay. It’s still your birthday after all. We got some more celebrating to do.”

“Mhm,” you agreed. You kissed him again, tasting yourself as your lips met. Your hand trailed down his body to the waistline of his jeans. Before you could even ask, his fingers wrapped around your wrist and guided your limb back up.

“I’m fine, baby,” he said with a sheepish smile, “Plus it’s your birthday. It’s supposed to be all about you.”

“Oh my god, you’re really pushing the birthday thing,” you teased.

“I’m gonna keep pushing it until midnight because it’s true,” he said back. His hands cupped your face while he looked down at you.

After the two of you messed around a little more, Clark remembered the things he had left out by the front door. Pushing himself off the bed, he headed for the door. He was quick about getting your things, but he paused on the way back.

Instead of going straight to you, he walked into your kitchen. Rummaging through some of the drawers crammed full of spare parts and random coupons, he found a half-used pack of birthday candles and a lighter.

After opening the box that held your cake, he put it on a plate and jammed a pink-striped candle into the icing of your cupcake. With a click of the lighter, he topped it off with a small flame.

He headed back to your room, walking slowly so as to not have a surprise-ruining mishap on the way. Once he appeared in the doorway, you glanced at him. Your eyes caught on the lit up cupcake, and your whole face brightened. He chuckled and walked further into the room. Seeing that made the beginning of the evening sting less.

“You’re not singing,” you teased as you sat up on your bed and watched.

“That’s because I want you to have a nice birthday,” he replied.

The words brought actual laughter out of you, but you sat there patiently waiting as he walked over with the plate. He sat down beside you and held the plate before you. The whole time he remained careful, conscious of not getting the flame too close to any part of you.

“You gotta make your wish now,” he said and kissed your cheek.

Smiling at him, you thought for a second before turning towards the small flicker of fire. You stared at it for a moment, and then blew a small stream of air. It danced under the breeze before dissolving into thin smoke. He reached over and popped the stick of wax out for you, so you could eat your treat without impediment.

“What’d you wish for?” he asked as he brought the frosting-coated end to his lips.

“You know the rules. If I tell you, it’ll never come true,” you answered and took a bite.

He rolled his eyes, giving you a little poke to the side. “What about last year? That one come true yet or is it still a secret?”

“Still a secret,” you affirmed. You extended the bitten cupcake out to him. “Want some?”

“No, I’m alright. Already had my dessert,” he teased as he got up to throw away the candle. The words earned him a whine and a smack from you along with some grumbling about him being corny. But you had a smile on your face now, and that’s all he could want.

#clark kent x reader #clark kent smut #clark kent x you #clark kent imagine #smallville x reader #ch: clark kent 💌

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princessbrunette · 11 months ago

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sometimes, bunny!reader had very little self awareness. even less when she was with rafe.

you’re at the nail salon, waiting for the lady that worked there to fetch the card machine so rafe could pay for the mani pedi you just received. he’d been running errands all day, but had made that little window of time so he could pick you up and pay for you himself — he was thoughtful like that, for you anyway.

“taking her time, jesus.” rafe complains under his breath, hands stuffed in his pockets as he looks around the salon, straight faced. you tsk, gently smacking the arm of his that you clung to.

“they’re having a busy day, rafey! don’t be rude.” you inform through a glossy pout, adjusting your grip on him when he shrugs carelessly.

“yeah well, i got shit to do. what time is it, anyway?”

you lift your phone, tapping the screen with one taloned nail to awaken it. rafe looks over your shoulder too, like he subconsciously didn’t even trust you to tell him the right time. sometimes you did that, telling him it was earlier than it was when he’d ask so that he’d spend longer with you, thinking he had more time. whilst you were on the well behaved side, it was one of your more sneaky habits.

however, the kook boys attention is stolen from the clock at the top of your screen nearly immediately when you carelessly display his own dick on the lockscreen. the worst part is how you’re not even trying to hide it, practically waving it around for the salon to see. you turn the screen towards him, bracelets jangling as you shake the screen a little.

“see, m’not lying about the time toda—”

rafe snatches the phone from your hand, wide eyed as he glances around. “the hell is this, huh? why is my dick your lockscreen? don’t need people seein’ what i’m working with kid, jesus— change that shit. now.” he scolds and you pout.

“but, daddy i like seeing it.” you put on the innocent act— one you do all too well as you bat your eyelashes up at him, clasping your freshly manicured hands at your front, thinking the ‘daddy’ nickname will win you some points.

“do you like sitting down? ‘cos you’re not gonna be able to do that either if you start talkin’ back. change it.”

you stare him down for a second, resisting a foot thump before yielding, sulkily taking your phone back and opening up your camera roll to find a better picture to use as your lockscreen.

“good. play stupid games win stupid prizes alright i don’t need you parading my—” his lecture his cut short by the salon assistant returning, asking if he’d like to pay with cash or card.

you continue to sulk once you’re in the passenger seat to his car, choosing to inspect your nails over interacting with him. as he concentrates on pulling out of his spot, he glances at you quickly. “hey, cheer up.” it’s more of a command and your pout only deepens.

“i liked my lockscreen rafey. i changed it because i missed you.”

surprisingly, he huffs out a quiet laugh.

“and — and a picture of just me wouldn’t have sufficed? nah, you missed my dick.” he shakes his head, squinting out at the road ahead.

“missed both.” its quiet, but he hears anyway— glancing at you once more.

“yeah? well guess where we’re headed now?”

your interest is piqued and you peer over at him, eyeing the handsome cameron.

“home. so once again, you’re gettin’ what you want. so… so stop looking so heartbroken, alright? you’ll get your fix.”

like that, all is forgotten, leaning over the console to smear a glossy kiss to his cheek and grab him through his pants — usual behaviour back in tact.

#rafe cameron prompt #bunny!reader

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mannequinreligi0n · 6 months ago

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Doppelgänger

vergil is in heat and puts his doppelgänger to good use

pairing: vergil x reader (gender neutral)

wc: 814

warnings: nsfw! - oral (male receiving), threesome (???)

author’s note: i just randomly wrote this right now and it’s almost 5am…..so uh, do with that information what you will. if there’re mistakes, i’ll proofread when i wake up lol

The blue apparition shackled your wrists together with one hand, the other holding a vice-like grip on the back of your head, keeping you from wriggling away from Vergil. Drool seeped out of your mouth in long strings, lips stretched around Vergil’s cock as he impaled your throat.

It had been four hours since you two started.

Four.

Doppelgänger showed up around the three-hour mark, assisting Vergil’s every whim, and was a daunting reminder of how easily Vergil could take what he wanted.

Every muscle in your body ached from being folded and bent and thrown around by your boyfriend. Vergil went into heat three days ago and he had refrained from using you like his personal fleshlight until he couldn’t take it anymore, making you call out of work just to service him. Not that you minded, really. But the ache in your core from relentless abuse had caused you to tap out early, leaving Vergil with the only hole left to defile - your mouth.

Big, teary eyes looked up at Vergil as he crammed himself into your throat, sweat parading down his forehead. Your jaw was throbbing with pain, which wasn’t helped by the hair-pulling. Vergil opened his eyes briefly to glance down at you after hearing a muffled gag, silently checking in with you despite his demon blood roaring through his veins. Every nerve in his body was screaming at him to take, take, take, and it took admittedly too much concentration and energy to remind himself of your fragile state. He slowed his hips to a rhythmic pump and eventually to a stop, catching his breath and swallowing back a gulp of air to clear his head.

Doppelgänger thrummed behind you, feeling the energy and warmth from the summoned being vibrate against the skin of your back. It made a mellow growl as a clawed finger reached from behind your head to rub at your cheek - a show of acknowledgment. You hum around Vergil, eyes shutting as you lean into the lucent mirage of a finger, appreciative of the gesture. Doppelgänger releases your head and runs its hand along your shoulder, talons faintly dragging along flesh as it trails its hand down your front. Vergil’s own hands move to hold either side of your head, thumbs caressing your scalp. You feel claws pinch at one of your nipples, tugging on it as heat ripples off the apparition. A moan gets stuck in your throat but Vergil groans at the vibration around his length, the head twitching inside you.

“Ah, there you are…still with me, my dear?”

Opening your eyes, you nod the best you can in your compromised state, fatigue evident in your eyes. Vergil smiles fondly down at you, a satisfied hum echoing in the quiet room.

“You’re taking me so well, little one…so well-behaved,” Vergil sighs out, voice exasperated and scratchy. “Give me one more…one more time, and you can rest.”

At the mention of rest, you nod again, but a little more enthusiastically. With a hushed laugh, Vergil’s grip on your head becomes taut and Doppelgänger moves its hand back to hair, grabbing a fistful. Vergil holds nothing back, jumping immediately into a harsh pace. His throaty grunts meld together with the ever-constant droning sound of Doppelgänger’s presence. Your jaw slacks unwillingly to compensate for Vergil’s size, the head of his cock ramming against the back of your throat. You gag beneath him, tears trickling down your face as you wince from the impact. With a few more ruthless thrusts, Vergil shudders and growls deeply, warm seed nearly choking you as it gushes down your throat. Doppelgänger yanks your head back by the hair, your mouth hanging open as you gulp down the cum and gasp for oxygen. Vergil nearly falls on his ass when you’re pulled back, legs trembling from the fifth and final release of the day. He manages to limp over to sit down on the edge of the bed, pouring sweat and heaving. See-through hands scoop you up off the ground and cradle you against a vibrating chest of blue light, offering you comfort while Vergil gains his own footing. Doppelgänger soon sets you down in Vergil’s lap, his arms coming out to accept you. Vergil presses a kiss into your head, face lingering in your hair as he takes in your scent. You slump over in Vergil’s arms, just as exhausted and spent as he is. There’s a few heartbeats of stillness before you feel a horn poke at your leg that’s dangling off the bed. Looking down, you find Doppelgänger sat at Vergil’s feet, head resting against you as it thumps its tail lightly against the floorboards. You reach out and pat the mirage’s head, eliciting a loud purr from the creature. Vergil chuckles at the display and tightens his arms around you, wordlessly expressing his love and gratitude to you.

#vergil sparda #devil may cry #fanfic #writing #dmc #smut #dmc vergil #devil may cry smut #vergil sparda x reader #oneshot #vergil x reader #vergil smut

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thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch · 6 months ago

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Hi hi hii! I hope all is well with you :3 I really enjoy your Boothill fics, they bring me so much joy! If it's possible, could I request something?

I've had this idea in my mind about mechanic!reader overworking themselves, not eating, sleeping, or hydrating as they should be as they can forget to tend to their own needs at times...(sadly you can't solely sustain yourself on candy and sugar)

Then Boothill comes to visit them and finds mechanic!reader in an exhausted state, basically forcing them to eat actual food and rest up.

a/n: 1.8k w.count - cw!!: mentions of being awake a long time and not eating!!

boothill just finished up two different jobs he was on, one solo and another pitching in to help a pal that was conveniently in the area. after such hard and capable work, he figures he's owed a quick pass by your shop. that, and something in the back of his head was nagging at him to swing by- and it wasn't because of his neuro-chip.

stepping through the shop's entrance, the door pushes open and the bell above the door chimes. before he can open his jaw and call out to you, searching you out in the premise, he instead starts yelling in shocked noises.

from above, a small mass of something emerges from the shadows of the ceiling. the exposed pipes that line the walls are the perfect place for something small, like critters or rodents, to trek and hide on.

the cowboy half expected a racoon or something to land on his head. what he didn't expect was the feeling of metal bashing into his face instead of a mass of fur and talons.

"son of a-!" he almost fully curses. taking two steps back in lieu of the 'attack', he raises his hand and grabs the metal clinging onto his face and hair. "get offa' me!" he hisses.

the sound of familiar beeps has him using his grip a bit more carefully. working on cooling down his insides that had been fired up into a friendzy, boothill successfully pulls ore off of his face to look at him properly.

"the hell do you think you're doin', eh lil fella?" the little assistant robot that usually stuck to you like glue flails in the air as boothill holds him between his finger and thumb by the sides of his rectangular head.

the expression the robot has on its face was accompanied by it's flinging arms and legs: [＞﹏＜]!!

"ey, ey, ey, lil dude, chill out."

boothill marches to the desk that acts less like a reception desk and more like a display counter. setting ore down, its flailing stops but the squeezed expression stays put. the cyborg bend at the waist, laying one of his arms over the counter to get- more or less- eyelevel with the little helper with the other going to his hip.

"okay, what's the problem. where's your fixer?" boothill asks. its a joke between the two of you that you act more like ore's guardian than owner. so, in regard to your identity, to ore you became his 'fixer'. ore points one of its metal coated arms behind him and one of its legs stomps. "in that back?" ore nods. "alright, let's go check on 'em shall we?"

ore, instead of taking a ride on boothill's shoulder or being carried in his palm, hops from the counter and rushes around through the doorways that you always keep propped open during shop hours. boothill struts his way through the shop, leisurely following the fella.

as he makes his way through the shop, boothill finally notes the lack of noise he's so used to hearing. no knocking on metal, or drilling of tools. no hint of work, not even your murmuring echoed through the building. it was just quiet.

well now he's just starting to worry.

adding a half-step to his stride, boothill follows the beeping provided from ore and finds himself coming through the cracked doors of your far back work room.

ore is already up on your desk thanks to your installation of small metal-sheeted pullies you made for it. its standing by your head that rests on your arms, folded over your desktop. both of its arms push against your skull, fretting in digital sounds.

walking in, boothill makes his way to your back, placing a gentle touch to the space between your shoulders. his free hand pushes against your desktop, leaning over to try and see if your face was peeking out of your arm pillow situation at all. you were out like a light, but you should be sleeping in bed.

"ey, sugar," boothill softly calls. his hand rubs against your back, rustling your shirt to try gently coaxing you awake. it gets him no where. "hey," he tries again. with a bit of a harsher shake of your shoulder, you bolt upwards. with a gasp from both you and boothill, ore stumbles backward onto its metal backend from the force in which you eject him from your skull. you whip your head back and forth, blinking wearily and rapidly before you finally register boothill's arrival.

"the hell, when did you get here?" your voice is groggy and rushed, and if the ranger hadn't just jostled you awake from your desk, he'd find it pretty cute.

"does it matter? why the hell you sleepin' at your desk? you have a bed."

"what? oh, no, it's fine." you rub your palms into your eyes, blinking back the black splotches it causes when you pull them away. "i just dozed off in the middle of something."

"uh huh." boothill is unconvienced. "you wouldn't be neglectin' your needs just for some work, now would yah?"

"what? no. no, i'm fine. perfectly healthy."

"i didn't ask if you were healthy." you don't offer him anything more and he sighs. shifting his weight, he puts on hand on his hip. "ore," he beckons the robot and it answers with a beep. "when's the last time your fixer here took care of themself?" there's a spinning dial on his digital screened face before a number pops up.

[21 hours ago !!]

boothill's jaw drops in disbelief.

your jaw drops in betrayal.

you jump from your stool, palms against your worktable while ore's 'face' lights up with exclamation points [!!!!!] before scampering away from your ire.

"are you serious right now?" boothill bites as you look over your shoulder at him. his arms are crossed, and a frown settles on his lips. it's rare you're on the receiving end of a scolding since it's usually you telling him off for being reckless or the like when he comes in for repairs. you kind of hate it to be honest.

"it's fineee," you draw out, huffing as you run your hand over your face. you have a headache, and standing up so quickly didn't help.

boothill clicks his tongue. clearly you were in no mood to listen. it dawns on him that ore's little attack from the entrance was probably him trying to persuade potential clientele away so you could rest. but seeing boothill come through the doors, the robot instead took his arrival as his saving grace.

boothill is a hardened galaxy ranger. but he also happens to be a big softie too.

"have it your way," the cowboy shrugs before pushing you away from your workstation by your shoulder. getting just enough distance between you and your job, he bends at his knees, hooks one of his arms around your side and hoists you up. you find yourself face first against his back with his tattered, red scarf brushing your cheek.

you feel and hear the contraptions and hinges in his body hiss and work to accomodate your weight over his shoulder.

"boothill!" you push your palms against the dip of his back, pushing your body up as much as you can as he starts carting you off.

"ore, be a lil' helper and grab your fixer something to put in their stomach. one of them small shakes or somethin' will do." ore, with its marching orders, obeys and dashes off once again. you almost regret that you programmed ore to obey boothill too.

in truth, boothill would prefer food in your stomach, but ore is about 2 fists tall. a prepackaged supplement from your fridge will have to suffice.

you don't fight him as much as he expected as he marches to your room where he rolls you off his shoulder and onto your mattress. landing with a soft thud, you dont have time to recover before he's throwing a pillow from the floor at your face.

"umph! hey, quit it!" you hiss, pushing the pillow aside. the ranger takes a seat at the foot of your bed as you shuffle to sit up and bring your legs in so he doesn't crush them. his knees are perched apart and his arms crossed. he watches the door, saying nothing, waiting for ore to come in. "are you really upset about this?"

"do i seem happy?" he shoots back.

"you dont need to get lippy with me," you bite as he rolls his eyes.

"i apparently do. not taking care of yourself properly? you can't be doing that, sugar." his scolding tone softens the more he talks. seeing how high strung he is about this, you feel almost guilty. you start picking at the fabric of your shirt.

ore soon brings you in something to consume that's better than nothing at all and helps sooth the post-sleep irritation in your throat. you didn't realize how scratchy it felt until you were forced to.

you're not sure when it happens, but at some point boothill has you laying down properly in your bed with a new change of clothes. and not too much later, you're sleeping before you could even try to fight back.

ore takes the empty container that was once full of your meal substitute and trots off to discard of it. boothill sits at the edge of your bed, where he's been planted the whole time. the cowboy observes you from a lean, his elbows resting on his metal knees.

you're breathing easy, which is good, but he still grimaces at the tiredness gathered under your closed, relaxed eyes. with your face washed of muck and soot, he can see your fatigue clearer.

boothill groans quietly, lowering his head as one of his hands comes to brush the hair off the side of his face and ruffle the strands together, definitely knotting it up. when he brings his hand back down, he winces when some strands pull from his scalp- his whole head is sensitive, so he should've known better.

when it seems like you're down for the count and won't wake up the moment he leaves you alone, boothill stands from your bed. the blanket is rumpled from where he's been sitting, and the impression of his presence is visible to his one good eye. oddly, it's comforting.

lifting his hat, he swings it down off his head and sets it gently on your bed side table that's littered with all sorts of odd and ends. along with a barely working alarm clock that has one of the digital numbers flickering in and out. you'll have to rewire that soon. he leaves it with you as he dismisses himself to let you rest.

beyond your bedroom, ore beeps and bops with noises as boothill sits at the reception desk. his legs crossed at the ankles and propped up on the desk with his arms crossed as he... talks? with ore.

any customer that walks in is met with a mean glare and a harsh 'get out' before he's shooing them out the door.

his nine-mililmeter is only on the desk next to him for some.... extra incentive.

a/n pt.2: i tried incorporating a few of ore's expressions with emoticons. is that lame? too cheesy? who knows. i love that little robot tho. [anyways sorry this rq took so long anon hnnnnng]

#boothill x reader #boothill fluff #boothill comfort #boothill hurt/comfort #boothill angst #boothill x you #boothill x y/n #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail #honkai star rail boothill #boothill hsr #hsr boothill #hsr #hsr x reader #hsr x you #hsr x y/n

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race-to-spac3 · 5 months ago

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Steb x Avian! Reader

Headcanons for an Avian! Reader (technically Vastaya? idk)

Content: Gn Reader, Reader’s an enforcer, like 2 really lazy bird puns if you squint,

Pre-relationship:

From grand wings wide and long, to tiny ones that fold neatly against your back– clothes compatible with them are far and few in between– much less the standardized uniform of the enforcers.

The time and effort it took to get a special request to custom tailor your shirt and jacket wasn’t worth the trouble, moreso considering being an enforcer wasn’t exactly something you cared too much about.

Though you had to admit it was a decent enough job so you decided to stick with it anyways, and luckily you did, otherwise you wouldn’t have met your favorite person.

You hardly fight the way your feather-tipped ears would perk up at the sight of him, not bothering to hide the toothy grin that overcomes your face as you bound over to greet him at the beginning of your shared patrols.

Since you didn't particularly put too much care in your stance as an enforcer, you tended to get into mischief often, and to your surprise– Steb was too– though you still don't get the sentiment considering his poise and respectability.

Something you two quickly find to appreciate about the other is yalls ability to turn your professionalism on and off like a switch, escaping the trouble of getting caught because of it. You two are quite the pair of clever rascals, your sly tricks flying over the heads of those none the wiser.

The bird and the fish, the sea and sky.

Whether your wings are colorful and intricate or monotone and basic doesn’t change how Steb will take any chance to get a good look at your feathers. His studying gaze matches your own that trails the streaks of dark cyan along his face.

While you weren’t exactly trained in any medical work, you proved to be perfect when needing a steady hand, well articulated and precise from having to learn how to navigate your sharp talons carefully.

So anytime he needs a second pair of hands, you’re the first person he asks. An honorary assistant, you like to jokingly call yourself, though he makes no effort to comment otherwise.

Sometimes when you’re on break and sitting next to each other you’ll splay your wings in a stretch, purposely flitting a few feathers to mess with his hair on the chance that his helmet is off.

He’ll scrunch his nose and flick your feathers out of the way in an equally playful manner.

While standing guard at a post, the moment it starts raining you’ll wordlessly unfurl your wing and use it as an umbrella for him, he’ll try to deny or stop you but you ignore him with persistence.

In an established relationship:

Mornings you have off are necessary lazy times.

Steb doesn’t have to admit how much he adores these times with you, you can tell by the way he’ll soothingly slide his nails across the keratin shaft of each feather, smoothing out all your plumage with such a gentleness it makes your heart soar.

Steb is oftentimes a busy man, preferring schedules and management to handle his daily life with the sole exception being you of course. Even when his attention is drawn elsewhere, he’ll notice that your wings have been a little neglected lately (not to say that they’re shabby no– far from it, it’s just that he has the eyes of a hawk)

Then when you least expect it, also being caught up in work, he'll pull you away from the stress, making you sit down at the edge of your bed and rest when you’re finally home, not letting you delve back into paperwork or the likes. ”Doctors orders” Steb signs, giving you his signature look that makes you slump in your place, half-heartedly defeated as you watch him settle beside you.

Steb opens his arms out invitingly, letting you tug him down and drape yourself across him. making sure you’re as comfortable as possible before he adjusts himself to be propped up against a pillow, giving him a clear view of your wings before he gets to work.

He’ll preen your wings with such tenderness, even if you insist that he doesn’t have to, Steb will shut you up with a series of light kisses, making you relent to his care.

A/N: throws this and runs away–

Very short I know, but I just wanted to get something out there cause I been neglecting my writing already

#steb arcane #steb #arcane season 2 #arcane #steb x reader #arcane x reader #i love avian charcters sm #i felt bad for not writing #ship name flying fish idk

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dustyrkives · 3 months ago

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PAIRING: GP! Ada Wong x Fem reader __________________ WARNINGS: vampire x human, bl00d drinking, religious undertones, religious guilt, age gap (duh), Ada can turn into both male and female, biting, mating, breeding, nightmares, sleep-walking, horror, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, breath-play, slow burn, enemies to–???, vampire turning. I think that's about it? –––––––––––––––– WORDCOUNT: 9,169 (this was self-indulgent, oops 😭😭😭💀) __________________ A/N: I'M SORRY THIS TOOK LONG HUHU. I was stuck during the drafting process and it drove me insane. Sorry for keeping you all waiting; here's the fic I promised!

Also, this is no longer project kafka as I mentioned. And Ada isn't a bioweapon–more like a vampire succubus.

Also Profanus Devorator means Profane Devourer in latin.

MEN DNI

There’s a saying that if you gaze long enough into the abyss, the abyss will gaze back at you.

Tonight–you learn such a proverb–in trembling hands intertwined in prayer, knees planted against the tiles of your room, a thin sheen of sweat coats your already-pale skin. In your peripheral vision, in the darkness of your room, something–someone, stood in your room. The atmosphere weighs heavy, temperature cold; the hairs in the back of your neck stood while your organs felt as though they’ve turned inwards. Your eyes didn’t dare leave the window as the heavy stench of earth, leather and smoke filled your room, restricting the air from your lungs.

The intruder takes a step towards you, your heart plummets, body cold with trepidation as it takes another step, and another, and another. Slow and unnaturally loud as it stops behind you.

A quiet sob leaves your lips as a cold hand slowly grasps the back of your neck, pressing your mother’s necklace against your skin, its pointed talons gently digging against your flesh. A deep, grating voice pierces through the air, you feel it stab into your soul.

“Excitavisti me ex somno aeterno. Nunc mihi iuratus es.” It rasps,“visne te mihi devovere?”

Your jaws–locked, voice–absent in terror. You nod.

The hand painstakingly releases your neck, but its claws scratches your skin; despite the pain, you don't flinch; terror keeps you numb as lips press against the available skin of your shoulder. Cold and unapologetic before a strong gust of wind devastates your room, leaving through your window.

Your body finally remembered its owner as you fell to the ground, your palms supporting your weight as your heart hammered against your ribcage, a thunderous beat reverberated through your body. Your hand clutched at your chest, fingers trembling as if trying to prevent your heart from bursting out of your ribs; vision blurring.

But something was amiss.

Your hand scrambles around your chest. Your necklace was gone. Torn away from your neck.

That night, you were only sixteen years old.

Your eyes stare blankly at the window from within the library watching aimlessly as strangers pass by. The sky was rather dark despite it being only four in the afternoon; but it doesn’t matter. Hours pass by, you greet customers, assist them with their preferred media in your town’s local bookstore.

Tonight, you continue your monotonous pattern of assisting customers, arranging books, recording sales and cleaning aisles before your shift ends around eight in the evening. Eyes downcast, your steps measured as you walk your way home to your apartment. The town is silent with a few cars driving in the road, their headlights illuminating your dull path. For years, you’ve been repeating the same routine; get up before six, go to work as the cashier, go home by eight. You’ll continue this pattern–saving enough money so you can finally move into the city and leave the dull town behind. Where? You’ll cross that bridge when you have finally had enough. Your growth to adulthood was rather bleak–you refuse to count the strange encounter, and yet it haunts you even at your waking moments, causing you to space out.

You know every individual in town but made very few friends–they’ve moved elsewhere now, wanting for more opportunities that the town couldn’t offer, leaving you with its barren offers yet your prospects were enough.

You absently stare at the window again, tuning out the voices of your customers as you scan and charge their books.

“My dad told me that someone purchased a private property near the end of town.” Says a loud customer as they wait in line while you scan another customer’s magazine. “He said she paid him a lot for his commission too.” “She must be well-off then?” It was their turn in the line as the two friends continued to converse. “Oh, she is.” the man coughs as he hands you his money.

“She’ll probably come to town tomorrow to finally move in. If you ask me, a woman of her wealth is better off living in the city. But who knows, maybe she wants a change of scenery.”

“Still though,” the other friend chuckles, “there are better options.” Your lips curl upwards as you silently agree with them as they leave the store.

You woke up, parched.

A silent groan escapes your lips as you turn in your sheets, fishing for your phone on the nightstand before checking the time and squinting against the bright light glaring as you read the time.

2:45 AM

You exhale through your nose and get up, only using your phone’s light to guide your path. Quiet steps echo in your dark apartment as you make your way to the fridge, a yawn escapes your lips before you freeze in your place.

The awfully familiar rich smell of earth, leather and smoke fills the kitchen and it squeezes the air out of your lungs; your body stiffens as the hair behind your neck raises. Your gaze locks with the window. The apartment was surrounded by trees–it was difficult to see through the darkness.

Except for those bright red, beady eyes.

Your yawn turns into a silent scream of unimaginable terror.

It wasn’t just hanging by the trees. No. It was right there outside your window, eyes peering close and deep, then the sound of something sharp scratching your window, the grating, piercing noise makes your eyes twitch and your body shudders with discomfort before the noise stops, and the sound of strong winds hitting against your window, and the beady eyes disappear into the darkness.

The stench vanishes, and you double over, gasping for air, eyes wide as your phone drops, nearly missing your toes.

“What the fuck?” You gulp as beads of cold sweat form down your back–uncomfortable. Your body trembles as you stand up, feet rushing to the window next to your fridge, and sure enough… there was a long deep scratch outside your window; the urge for drinking was gone, along with the creature that visited your humble abode.

The next few days were a blur, it was as if your body was on autopilot, you’re doing what you routinely do, but you feel absent. That includes waking up in the early hours of the morning, between two to three in the morning, always parched, and your eyes would always look out into your window to see those beady eyes staring pointedly at you. Like your daily routine, it became monotonous; draining.

Oh, but that was only the beginning.

“Oh, how beautiful you’ve grown…” Says the distorted voice, it was difficult to tell if it was a man or a woman. You remain stiff in your bed, hands shakily gripping your blanket as cold sweat rolls down your forehead, eyes trained at those same red eyes that have been haunting you in the early hours of the morning.

A distant, shrilling chuckle echoes through your room. Your insides churn as the creature stays in the shadows, yet it circles your bed.

“It has been a decade, you’re still the same terrified girl I’ve laid eyes upon.” It coos. “Why is that, hm?”

A shudder leaves your lips as an outline of a figure steps away from the darkness, yet it remains obscured. “Do you fear me? Am I that terrifying to look at?”

Slow, tantalising footsteps echo in your room towards you, then it stops at the foot of your bed–your organs have turned inwards again as your whole body trembles. The creature disappears from the shadows, only for it to appear above you, its head peering down closely at you… which is weird because your headboard is against the wall… there is no space for that thing to stand behind your bed and look at you at that angle, red eyes staring down at your own. The entity slowly blinks before pulling back, the shadows envelope their figure… and you are left with an unsettling silence.

The stench was gone, even when that–thing was in your room. Your body then begins to sink into your bed. A wave of panic rises as you let out interrupted screams as you try to scramble–claw your way out. It was no use… the sheets have already swallowed you whole.

Your body wakes with a start, dizzy, confused and with the urge to vomit as the fresh smell of wet earth fills your nose.

You aren’t in your bedroom… and sure as hell you’re not in your apartment as a throbbing headache shoots throughout your skull as you stumble back before balancing yourself on the cold, wet grass–just behind your apartment. The skies are gray yet again. Atmosphere, cold and foreboding as if it witnessed your predicament before you gained consciousness.

“How the fuck did I get here?” You stammer, body cold and weak as you clutch your chest… feeling a damp spot as you retract your hand only to be met by crimson liquid. You look down at your chest, your top was slightly unbuttoned as blood oozes out from the pierced skin–bite marks just above your right breast.

A shaky exhale leaves your lips as you lean your bloody hand against the wall of your building while the other clutches your bloody shirt, your steps–slow and unsteady as you walk back into your apartment with the resolve to call in sick for today…

The creature didn’t haunt you after that…

Yet–no.

Your face scrunches in disgust as you look outside your window, nails digging against your thighs as a soft sob leaves your lips. An uncomfortable feeling gnaws your insides as your mind cruelly berates you.

Disgusting… How could you long for something so profane?

This is sickness.

This is shame.

Repent

As darkness swallows your living room, you swallow harshly as you join your hands in prayer. It had been long since you last prayed–you were only sixteen years old when the creature came into your room whilst you were praying… and strangely enough, it was also the last time you wore your mother’s necklace before it was also taken away from you–in a way, it also took away your peace. Ever since then, you stopped with your prayers. Yet that didn’t stop the heavy feeling of monotony that looms above you every single day of your life.

Perhaps, it’ll be different now, that comfort and reassurance will come–just as you have prayed back then, only this time, it won’t be the creature that answered. It will be God.

But there is none.

Regardless of how earnest your prayers were, the looming heaviness remains, and a restless feeling gnaws at you once again as you bow your head, your hands purchase the hairs on your side as you let out a shaky exhale.

“Please,” You whimper, though not knowing why. “Please…”

After minutes of sitting still, you fix your posture; hands tugging your shirt to see the healed bite wound on your breast and oddly… felt comfort.

Regardless of lethargy, you return to work the next day.

Your movements, sluggish, eyesight blurry as the cycle begins. “I thought you’d be away for another day?” The manager mused as she leaned away from the counter. You can only shoot her with a smile, though it doesn’t reach your eyes. “I feel restless when I’m doing nothing.”

Which was true.

The sweet old lady chuckles and pats your shoulder. “Well, I’ll leave the rest to you, kiddo. Glad to have you back.” Your eyes didn’t leave her retreating figure until she entered her office, leaving you to manage the cashier as more customers began browsing the aisles. A long sigh escapes your lips as you crane your neck to the window, the skies are bright, perhaps a positive sign of things to come.

Hours passed by, and it was nearly closing time–you were recording sales again when the chimes rattle, alerting that a new customer has entered.

“We close in ten minutes!” You call out, not taking your eyes off the record book.

A rich feminine tone reaches your ears. “Well, if that’s the case–then I’ll need your help.”

You finally tear your eyes away from the book, your breath hitches.

Before you, stood a woman no older than thirty, black short hair styled to a sleek bob, her bangs frame her face elegantly, with a subtle, side-swept look.. Sharp, intelligent eyes caged by monolids, her complexion shames the moon, her features: sharp and well-defined. Her lips are full, adorned with a subtle red. She wore a perfectly pressed black leather trench coat and knee-high black boots. Everything about her seemed precisely tailored from head to toe, but when your eyes meet hers; you are met with a strange sensation.

You’ve never seen her in town before.

“W-what can I help you with?” You wince at your tone as the older woman looks around before her lips curl to a subtle smirk. “I was wondering if you can point me to the classical section?”

“Just by the hall, to the left–”

“I would prefer it if you take me there.” She interrupts as her striking brown eyes pin you.

You swallow before nodding, “Sure… right this way.” But as you walk past her to take lead, a sharp pain shoots through your right breast–you instinctively clutch it with a soft gasp. The stranger tilts her head, “Are you alright, miss?”

“Y-yeah,” You gulp before fixing your posture. “Uh, right this way.” Though your hand remains clutched to your chest as you both wind down the aisle. Your breath is uneven. “Here we are.” Your hand gestures at the plethora of books housed on shelves.

“Thank you,” Says the woman as her eyes flit to your name tag. “What a beautiful name.” She purrs as her slender, well-manicured hands grab the spine of the book. You nod wordlessly before turning away from the woman to go to the cashier. Her footsteps follow behind you, slow and tantalizing.

Your movements have once again become sluggish, uncoordinated, vision blurring as a heavy feeling looms on your head.

What’s happening?

It felt as if you were not in control of your body, everything felt distant–numb before the stranger’s voice shot through. Snapping you back to reality. Her face inches above yours as her arms secured your figure. The alluring scent of earth, leather, smoke and amber filling your senses–your stomach churns, heat filling your cheeks as she slowly blinks at you.

“You alright?” The woman mused. “You nearly face-planted against the floor.”

“Yeah,” You stammer as you place distance between her and you. “I’m alright. Thanks for the save.” A nervous laugh escapes your lips. The older woman hums as you two reach the cashier, finishing the transaction with an awkward note. Before the woman takes her purchase, she flashes you a juxtaposing smile before leaving.

You couldn’t take your eyes off of her until the door closes, and the chimes ring.

The torment returns.

It was two in the morning yet again. Throat dry, your phone used as a torch to guide your path to your fridge–those blasted, red beady eyes locked at your figure. But instead, it was no longer staring from outside your window… it’s inside. Sitting in one of your chairs by the dining table. Your body feels cold all over, muscles constricting–stiff and rigid. Your heart erratically beats; breath at a stand-still as the suffocating aroma fills the air: earth, smoke and leather.

Yet, beneath it all–warmth.

Uncomfortable warmth.

Trepidation drips down your forehead as the creature stands up, stalking towards you and away from the shadows. The black tendrils, trying to coax its master to remain in darkness, but the creature ignores it as it extends its sharp talons towards your face, a futile whimper and a sob leaves your lips as your stomach twists in fear, vision blurring as the stench singes your nostrils; flinching as both of its palms touch your face, it was so cold that it felt like your skin was on fire as you tremble in the creature’s touch before it pulls away.

On cue, your lips let out a loud gasp as the stillness that once possessed your body frees you; falling to your knees as you gasp for bated breath. Slowly, you look up to see the creature holding a necklace–your eyes widen as the creature dangles it in front of you, a piercing chuckle echoes in your room.

“Your necklace was losing your scent…” The creature purrs as it inhales your necklace, almost reverently. “Has anyone told you… you smell of roses?”

It circles around you, like a beast surveying its prey. “Sweet and delicate.”

You shakily reach for your necklace, but the creature coos and lifts its hand away from your reach. “No. It is mine now.”

A soft whimper leaves your lips, unable to form words of protest. The creature cups your face, beckoning you to look at… her.

Your pupils constrict as a subtle smirk graces her features. “What’s wrong?” Her voice, rich, feminine… and steely. “If I remember correctly, you seem to like it back in the bookstore.”

The woman tilts her head, “Or do you prefer…” You flinch as the sound of squelching flesh and twisting bones fills your ears, then a masculine voice. “This?”

Your breath hitches at the sight of the woman–now turned man, he shared the familiar features of the woman as if they were siblings, though his stature is tall, imposing. Yet just as beautiful.

And finally, you find your voice.

“W-who are you?”

The imposter grins, “I am what you have been refusing.”

“No,” Your voice chokes with shame as the man’s eyes flashed red.

“Oh, but yes…” He sneers. “I am what you so-desperately desire.”

“No!”

A loud snarl echoes in your apartment, your heart constricts as a pathetic sob leaves your lips. “Yes I am!” The creature huffs as it returns to the form of the woman back in the bookstore. “You will learn to accept that you are mine just as I am yours.” She husks, “You pledged yourself to me after all, pretty girl. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten?” She wipes the thin sheen of sweat coating your face.

No.

“Who are you?”

What are you?

The woman chuckles. “I’ve had many names… but you can call me Ada. Ada Wong.” Ada smiles, “Or if you prefer a man–Adam.” Ada narrows her eyes before sighing. “I’ve overstayed my welcome.” She looks down at your top, “But first, a bite.”

Your eyes widen as she yanks your collar, her strength lifting you from the ground and popping the buttons from your top as her canines extend to sharp fangs. A shriek leaves your lips as her fangs pierce the skin of your chest, her other hand muffles your mouth as it drinks your crimson of life, the painful sting ebbs to bliss as your eyes roll back, your breath shuddering as a soft moan leaves your lips–shame follows as your body warms with delight as your hands grasp her coat while the other tugs at her short hair.

The creature–Ada, growls softly, creating gentle vibration spreading across your skin before pulling away gently. You shudder and moan in woe with a touch of bliss. She runs her tongue flat against the oozing wound, cleaning the blood that pools around your skin before your eyelids grow heavy, and you slip from consciousness.

You wake up the next morning on the floor.

A pained groan leaves your lips as you get up on the floor, wincing as you feel the sticky texture of dried blood on your shirt. You feel lightheaded, dizzy and nauseous. You tug on your shirt, cringing at the stain of your blood–there it is, a bite mark on the center of your chest, the bleeding has stopped, only the stains and wound remain. You grab the edge of the table for support, knees wobbling as you stand. The sun has already risen, but you don’t feel its warmth as you stare blankly at it while it fills your dining area with light.

You look down at your wound, the pads of your fingers brush against them softly–warmth.

And this time, shame dwindles.

You saw her–him. Again. There’s no mistaking it.

This time, he changed to casual wear: red button up shirt, black tapered trousers and shoes–he kept the black leather trench coat. His expression neutral as he aimlessly wanders around the aisle, his striking brown eyes stare at the covers before stopping by the History section.

You eye him warily as the other customers, especially girls, nudge their friends and indirectly point at him with a shy smile or grin.

A soft frown graces your features as you absently scan and charge another customer before handing them their change. Your eyes follow his slender, graceful hands as he opens a random History book. His daytime appearance seemed to belong in his surroundings–calm, unassuming.

Compared to the nights the creature has haunted you.

Fed on you.

A chill shoots down your spine, the wounds singe. You bite your lower lip to muffle the pained groan that threatened to leave your lips as your hand instinctively clutched your chest while the other hand palms the smooth edge of the deck for support.

“Everything alright?” Your ears perk upon hearing his voice. It’s not as grating as it was previously, instead it was smooth, velvety and juxtaposing. Slowly, you turn your head towards him. He was in front of the counter, he was close enough for you to smell him; smoke, leather, wood, lavender and nutmeg. A knowing smirk plays on his lips as he eyes you.

Subtle, not overpowering.

“Y-you,” You stammer as he places a book atop the counter.

“I’m purchasing this book.”

Your eyes shoot down at the thick book–history. You peer over his shoulder, no one follows after him as your eyes slowly meet his; your throat dries as he flashed them red at you–you snap your eyes away from him, nails digging against the counter as your heart leaps to your throat. He observes this–a faux disdainful tone fills his voice.

“Your reaction wounds me, sweetheart.” He purrs. “Is this how you treat your customers?”

Your jaw locks as your hands automatically scramble for the book and quickly scan it. “Th-that’ll be $11.48.”

He hums and hands you the bill, you visibly wince as his deathly cold fingers brush against yours. “Keep the change.” He tells you; his eyes following your rushed movements before you hand him a paper bag containing his book. The creature doesn’t take it.

Instead, he leans against the counter, close enough for you to see a necklace wrapped around his neck–your necklace. “I think it suits me better than you, no?” He grins, not bothering to hide his fangs as the gleam menacingly beneath the fluorescent lights. Your throat tightens and you shudder as your eyes trail lower–the blasted creature unbutton three, allowing you to see the smooth, defined chest beneath the shirt.

He chuckles at this while you once again look away, a cheeks warm and your stomach churns–shame on you.

The former tilts his head, “Why deny your feelings, sweet girl?”

You didn’t dare look at him and stayed silent. The man huffs and takes the paper bag and turns away from you, “You will learn to accept me.” He peers over his shoulder, “And when that happens, it will be the best thing you did.”

With that, he leaves. Though his words echo in your brain like a broken record as your day finishes–though it was a blur.

You didn’t walk home immediately after your shift.

Instead, you opted to take a walk–not exactly ideal considering your parents have warned you about the dangers of the night; you just didn’t find it in you to heed anymore. Hands in your coat, your eyes close as the cool breeze grazes your skin, even when you wear a coat–the chill nips at your bones. You continue in your path, your vision blurry as you allow your feet to take you wherever they seem fit–you know your way around town after all. You wander aimlessly, your footsteps echo the empty streets until it echoes no more. Only the soft patch of footfalls against grass and dirt. Your vision clears–you’re in the park.

A heavy sigh leaves your lips, neck craning to see if you’re not the only one in the park, but as you look up, your eyes widens with shock, your blood runs cold and the color drains from your face while the air changes around you–heavy with dark foreboding.

You look up, and your jaw slacks.

There, at the apex of the lamp post, Ada was crouching. Her dark hair leaning forward, only allowing you to see her bright crimson eyes, skin pale as the moon. However, it’s not her presence that sets you off.

It’s the dark, long cape that blocks the light of the lamp–

Wait, that isn’t a cape…

Wings.

Those were huge, bat-like wings–it was twice the size of her body.

Her wings raise, blocking the moonlight–wide and imposing before it morphs into her black leather trench coat. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” She mused, her voice–unlike in your nightmares–smooth, sultry and deceivingly sweet. “Care for a walk?”

Your other foot takes a step back, and Ada’s gaze sharpens. Her smooth voice fills with absolute command.

“You’d do well to say yes to me, my sweet rose.”

She gracefully lands on the ground, not a single speck of dirt on her.

“It will do you good,” A ghost of a smirk graces her lips. “And you will learn to bend to your nature.”

A soft scoff leaves your lips, “What nature?”

She walks past you, “There’s no point in asking when you know it.” Ada looks over her shoulder, “Intimately.”

You tear your gaze away from her as the familiar uncomfortable feeling stirs in your gut. Ada’s voice fills the empty park. “Come along now.” You let out a shaky exhale as you follow the older woman, your hands ball into rigid fists in your coat pockets as you heed her.

“This town is rather peaceful, no?” Ada narrows her eyes at your silence. “Speak, girl. I am not here to harm you.”

“Yet why drink from me? Harm me?” You blurt. Your organs feel like dropping as Ada turns her whole body towards you. “It is our way of feeding–it has always been like that for centuries.” The short-haired woman smirks, “And it doesn’t harm you… it brings you pleasure.”

You snort. Disbelief.

But deep down, you know it’s true, and Ada merely chuckles darkly at your refusal. “You are a stubborn woman.”

“Don’t poke fun at me!” You burst, voice tight and distant. “For years, you felt like a heavy blanket–stinking of smoke, earth and leather.” You sharply inhale, “You have done nothing but weigh me down and make me miserable!”

“Miserable?” Ada chuckles, her voice dropping an octave lower. “Fool.” She then disperses like a black smoke and appears in front of you, a startled gasp leaves your lips as you turn to run but her hand grabs your wrist in an iron-like grip before yanking you back to her. Ada’s red eyes glowered dangerously down at you whilst you trembled in her hold as her distorted, cold and steely voice filled your ears.

“I saved you.” She hisses, her fangs barred. “Have you forgotten why you prayed that night?”

A guttural growl reverberates from her throat, “You prayed for companionship. You prayed to quell the loneliness that haunts you from your childhood. Your god did nothing.” She leans down to your ears, leaving nothing but goosebumps and a chill running down your spine.

“But I did.” A pregnant pause, “Can’t you see the efforts I have done for you? I kept you away from harm. I have made myself beautiful for you; to be an object of your ire and yet you shun me as if I am your shame.”

“Because you are!” You sobbed as your knees wobble. If it wasn’t for the nocturnal being that held you up, you would’ve fallen to the ground. “You’re my shame! A repulsive desire–you make me sick–!”

A snarl silences you and you whimper and avoid her piercing eyes. Her fangs gleam with danger, her voice–dangerously low. “And yet you’ve called for me, sweet rose.” She rasps, “And I have come. For centuries, a lonesome creature like me slumbers in the darkness–until you woke me. Not many people can do that.”

A whimper leaves your lips as she grasps your jaw and tilts your chin upwards, her voice returns to normal. “I am an impatient creature.” She inches closer, the tips of her lips nearly touching yours. “And I have endured for you–waited for you the moment your skin has blessed my lips that night. I have craved for nothing but you.”

You stifle a gasp, “You crave my blood.”

“Oh, but much more.” Ada pulls you closer to her frame, “Your heart.”

A scoff leaves your lips as your palms rest against her upper chest, “I don’t think something like you can love.” A soft purr vibrates in her chest, she releases you from her hold. “It’s beneath me. I can only devour such an appetite of emotions.” The creature gives you a well-practiced smile, “But I possess like any man or woman towards the things they value–they keep.”

The smile drops as she looks up at the moon, “The hour is late. You must head home.”

“Y-you won’t feed from me?”

“No,” She answers immediately as she slowly holds up her palm. Black smoke envelopes you, your chest tightens as you try to move away from ensnaring darkness–but it was futile, even though she has said it.

“It is useless to fight it.” Her voice becomes distant, as your eyelids grow heavy and the darkness swallows you.

You wake with a gasp.

You sit up, eyes looking around your surroundings–you’re in your bed, in your apartment; your hand tugs on your shirt to see if there’s any new bite marks.

And true to Ada’s words, there are none. You let out a breath and look outside your window–daylight kisses your room and for once, you felt its warmth.

Ada didn’t come to the bookstore today; and neither has she made any appearance at night–even in your nightmares… though you don’t know if they can be considered nightmares anymore.

Regardless, you long for her to come to you again as she did every night, and as you realize this thought.

The weight of shame looms no longer.

The creature’s absence is a hollow pit to your soul.

You find yourself staying up longer than usual. Each day later than the last. You find yourself walking around the town, to the park where you had last conversed with her, hoping to see her perched up a tree branch or atop the lamppost.

But you were wrong.

Oh–so wrong.

As days pass by, you find yourself restless without the creature’s nightly visits, hell–hauntings, even. They had once filled you with dread and terror, and now, all you feel is longing.

This is your new torment–her absence.

For every visit, every nightmare–they were a macabre fix to your dull monotonous life. And now she is gone–such a feeling of relief was fleeting.

You lay there in your bed, the pads of your fingers brush against the bite mark on your skin–caressing the remnants of her presence. You turn to the side before curling in your sheets, a shaky sigh leaving your lips before you whisper her name; a prayer.

Yet you are met with an empty dream once again. You look at your dinner blankly–just canned food and rice. You didn’t have the mood to cook nor order takeout, you merely scooped five spoonfuls of food before deciding to retreat to your bedroom to freshen up and wait for the nightmare to flood your dreams despite knowing that it will be blank just as any other night. As you twist and turn in your bed, your thoughts keep you up, forcing you to deal with the reality that she may not come back–all because you couldn’t accept your nature.

Your unnatural longing. Desire.

You hug your knees to your chest, heart heavy with emotions you refuse to acknowledge.

No, not yet.

As the clock strikes at four in the morning; you finally have fallen asleep.

You wake up just in time once again, however, your energy plunges as you do your same exact routine. Take a bath, freshen up and go to work, ignoring the taste of bile crawling up to your mouth. Every step feels like taxing, and every breath you take was a chore as your vision blurs, yet your feet take you to where you have programmed it to be. The shouts of the outside world felt rather distorted–fleeting.

Today, you chose to be the prisoner of your own mind, allowing your eyes to be as far away as your thoughts while your arms and legs kept you rooted to reality only when it demands for you. Real world be damned.

The creature left you in peace, but it felt as if its absence only left you in pieces.

Anger, bitterness, then there it is again; longing.

You would caress the wounds she had left–but not even those stay long. They were healing.

And you don’t want them to heal.

Without thinking–you pick on the healing tissue, peeling it away and hissing softly as you pluck out the healed skin. Automatically, blood began to ooze but that doesn’t deter you. After peeling the first–you came for the second, then the third. The same can be said for your injury above your right breast.

You slept with a bloody shirt on; that didn’t bother you as twisted comfort warms your body. This is enough, this will suffice.

But for how long?

Not for long

And so was her absence.

Three days after peeling your bite mark, just as you’re about to fall into a dreamless sleep–darkness enveloped you.

The smell of smoke, leather and earth fills your lungs as you open your eyes. Darkness.

Your heart leaps, a soft joyous gasp leaves your lips as you snap your head around. This darkness is familiar to you; your heart has already mastered it. “Ada!” You croak, the echoes delay as you walk aimlessly–deeper into the darkness until you see an opening, there she is, standing with her back turned towards your figure. Her stature–tall and poised and wrapped in mystique. Suddenly, the stench of death didn’t reek.

Instead, it smells of rose, leather, amber and blossom.

Inviting.

She slowly turns to you, her countenance tainted by cracks on her skin as her eyes glow a sultry red as she raises her hand, beckoning you to take it while the moonlight kisses her figure. You let out a shaky breath as you take a step towards her, the shadows weigh heavy, as if trying to ward you away from her. As you slowly walk towards her, her form distorts from man to woman, woman to man, the warning whispers distort as the line between shame and longing becomes nothing but a blur as you throw yourself towards her, a sob of relief leaves your lips as your body lights with warmth as you tighten your embrace.

A purr reverberates from Ada’s chest as her hand caresses your back slowly before her claws dig through your clothes as she leans down, her cold breath fans against your ear.

“I told you… you will accept me and accept your nature.”

She snakes her hand up and tugs the back of your hair. You quietly gasp as you stare up at her male counterpart and his blasted open shirt, exposing the cracked skin that mar his skin. Sitting at the base of his neck is your missing necklace.

“See what you do to me?” He hisses as his voice becomes feminine. “See the lengths I’ve gone through to hold back?”

Ada returns to her female form and growls as her eyes flash while she shows you her fangs, bright and red at the pointed tip before she clamps it shut.

“I am a patient and enduring creature.” She says brusquely. “And I will finally have what is mine.” She brushes the tips of her lips against your neck, a soft whine vibrates on your throat as she gently pecks the available skin while her other hand trails down your arm before grasping your wrist and bringing it to her lips.

“I’ve asked you this before, when you were nothing but an innocent child praying for companionship, for warmth…” She looks down at you, “Will you pledge yourself to me, my sweet rose?” She kisses the pulse that beats in your wrist.

“I may not give you warmth and nor can I love, but as I’ve said before…I possess you like that of a spouse.”

A ghost of a smile graces her beautiful but eroding features.

“For weeks, you have refused me. Now look at you,” She coos, “Tell me, do you refuse me, still?”

“No,” You concede, and oh–what a relaxing feeling as the creature graces you with a smile full of teeth. You feel elated, free from the heavy loom of shame and guilt, you surge forward, lips meeting hers for a searing kiss; it is full of need. You swallow the vampire’s moans as she tilts her head to deepen the kiss, consummating your pledge.

You pull back for air as Ada’s once poised features become feral as her eyes darkened and yanks your collar, exposing your neck for her.

“By this pact,” She snarls softly, “You… are mine. Forever.”

She then sinks her fangs into your neck, you let out a pained yell but Ada muffles it with her free hand. Your knees buckle and you lose balance, but your nocturnal spouse catches you effortlessly and holds you as she drinks you, a loud growl emanates from her throat–sending vibrations throughout your body as blood oozes, staining your sleepwear. You claw her back as she digs her fangs deeper into your flesh. Your eyes roll back as venom enters your bloodstream, pleasure blooming from within while you arch your back.

The creature purrs before pulling back. Blood drips down her chin, most of it coats her lips like a morbid lipstick. She holds eye contact while her tongue licks her upper lips. Shakily, your hand reaches up to her lips, and Ada kisses your fingertips before grasping your wrist and inhaling your delectable scent.

Another growl.

Your eyelids grow heavy as your eyes trail down her neck just to see your necklace.

Ada leans down and presses her face against your chest, inhaling your scent.

A gust of wind harshly kisses your skin as she takes you back to your bedroom and places you on the sheets.

She looks around, your eyes follow her as the older woman looks at your mirror before it fractures while the wind knocks the windows open–her coat dances with the wind before it distorts into huge black wings; it wraps around her body like a demented cape as she slowly stalks towards you, her appearance distorts once again–man, woman, man, then woman before settling into a man again as the coat slips off to reveal him bare.

Your eyes shamelessly rake his body as he climbs to your bed and looms above you. His physique is perfectly carved like that of a greek god if you are to discard his crimson eyes and sharp teeth as he sinks it into your chest. You throw your head back as blood oozes from the new wound down to your sheets.

You whimper as the creature returns to his female counterpart, her slender, well-manicured hands caress your clothes, her touch dissipates the cloth, leaving you bare–just like her. Your flutters due to exposure, nipples perked up as the air grazes softly against them. Ada hums in approval as her eyes glaze with appreciation.

She maintains eye contact as she laps the blood off your chest, eyes flashing dangerously promising pain and pleasure as she leans down to your ear.

“Has anyone taken you like this before?”

You gulp as pain shoots through your body only for it to be soothe by pleasure. “N-no,” You groan as she guides your left thigh around her lean waist.

The short-haired woman grins, “Good.” She purrs and gently squeezes your thigh.

“Because no one can please you as I will.”

And indeed, she does.

Being pleasured by the creature is nothing short of unholy.

Ada fucks you in both male and female counterparts, leaving you whimpering in bliss.

The necklace dangles and swings as he drives himself deeper into you, a deep snarl echoes in the room, shooting down to your pussy as he grinds his cock against your seeping cunt.

The light shows the sinews of his muscles as he takes you harshly, his strong arms wrapped around your delicate form as sweat drips from his muscled stomach down to your skin. Ada–Adam, pulls his head back and attacks your neck with kisses that morph into arduous bites.

You close your eyes and drop your head onto the pillows while your hips jut shamelessly against his.

The older man sinks his fangs into your shoulder as your mixed arousals drip to the sheets.

He lets you meet his hips with a guttural groan before holding your hips down, grabbing your thighs before lifting them up at a certain angle before he moves his hips. You claw the creature’s toned back, lips uncontrollably spilling cries of pleasure while the sound of skin slapping against skin harmonizes with the creaking bed.

His nails grip the sheets, tearing the fabric while his pace fastens, hips slamming deep, the bulbous head kisses your cervix–your eyes roll back whilst a silent scream breaks past your lips. He chuckles darkly, “Look at you,” Adam lifts your hips and grinds his hips, “Pliant and vulnerable.”

He stops his movements; you whine at the loss before he kisses the pillar of your neck before going behind your ear. “I want you to mount me.”

Say less

He removes himself from you, you nearly sob at the loss while he crawls to the headboard and rests his back against it.

Sweat dampens his skin, his black hair sticks against his forehead, the moonlight kisses his body covered in a thin sheen of sweat as he taps his thighs, you eye his rigid cock; standing tall and proud. With a puff, you align your sopping cunt, the latter grunts as you slowly sink down.

Adam growls as his hands grab onto your waist before thrusting his hips up, not bothering to wait for you.

You throw your head back in bliss while your hands grab onto his broad shoulders, nails digging against his skin. The older man flushes you against him as he thrusts his hips, face contorting to Ada, lips curling into a predatory smirk when your lips let out streams of moans.

“Fuck,” You mewl as your hips meet his thrusts, jaw dropping into an ‘O’ shape as you release a particular squeal that as Adam groaning and gropes your ass before spanking it roughly, eliciting a whimper from you as you drop your head onto his shoulder, inhaling his scent.

His lips attach to your neck, his fangs grazing your skin before opting to kiss it instead. Your walls clenching and throbbing around him, you were so slick and wet that your juices dripped down to his thigh.

“Good,” He moans, “Very good. Just like that.” Adam tightens his arms around your waist as he thrusts his hips upwards, fucking you hard and deep that your vision blurs as a strange pressure grows on your stomach, insides pulsing and tingling.

It was a strange yet blissful feeling.

“Ada,” You mewl and press yourself harder against the male counterpart. “My stomach feels weird.”

“Keep going,” He growls, pounding into you harder to the point that his thrusts are shallow–yet powerful.

Both bodies are covered in a thick sheen of sweat as beads of exertion perspire on your foreheads. The smell of sex permeates the air accompanied by obscene noises coming from you and the creature; the pressure grows strong inside you, losing all inhibition as you pull him for a searing kiss. It was all-consuming as he swallowed your moans.

His strong arms pulling you impossibly closer to his cold body as you come undone–white hot pleasure sporadically consumes your insides as his cock pushes deep, the tip kissing your cervix before he shoots his load.

His warm cum fills your walls as he stills his hips as he finally sinks his fangs again into your chest, drinking from you and adding into your euphoria as you’ve gone limp in his arms.

He held you in place before you felt him morph into another form; a woman, though the appendage remains lodged in you.

Ada looks at you with a smirk. “The night is still young, my sweet rose.” She cranes her neck to the side to see the moon is still up; the older woman moves her hips, stimulating you, your hips shake as a whimper flees from your lips–your arms wrap around the nocturnal individual as she chuckles.

“You can do more, my love.” She coaxes as she surges forward while you lay on your back.

“Embrace your nature,” Ada purrs as her short hair cages her resplendent countenance as she begins to plow her hips into you as she fucks you into the sheets.

“You feel divine,” The older woman grunts, emphasizing it with a deep pound.

You can only claw at her back and moan as she holds your hips, lifting it to her desired angle before setting the pace while you writhe beneath her ministrations.

You cry out and wrap your arms around her shoulders as she hits a particular spot that makes you see stars. Your legs automatically wrap around her waist while her arms grip the sheets for leverage.

The sinews of her muscles flexing with her movements, red eyes watching in carnal delight as you writhe in bliss, your heels digging into her ass, forcing her to thrust deeper into you.

Your walls clench around her, and Ada’s hips stutters before pistoning her hips at a harsh pace as profanities befall your lips.

Look at you, so exquisite. Hers.

The vampire bites down your neck again, blood staining the sheets before she pulls back and laps the wound. She combs her short hair back. Giving her a messy, slid-back look that makes her devastatingly attractive before she puts her hand back on your hips, keeping you still as she bullies your pussy with her cock.

There goes that feeling again, and Ada pecks your shoulder, leaving a bloody print of her lips.

A whimper leaves your lips as you cum so hard–it’s blinding. Ada snarls and tears the fabric as she slams her hips deep and finishes after you. Your velvet walls throb as her essence mixes with yours; a warm concoction as she rubs her hips and you’re too blissed-out to react.

You don’t know how long you two were going at it.

You’re not even sure how you managed to stay alive with Ada drinking your blood at each release. You were too busy indulging the older woman’s appetite as she fucks and breeds you relentlessly.

“On your stomach,” Ada commands. You obey; pressing your bloody chest against the crimson-stained sheets.

“Hips up,” She purrs. You obeyed, allowing her to see your swollen cunt dripping with your mixed juices. “Good girl,” The older woman purrs before slapping your folds, making you cry out as more of your essence drips down.

The former uses your cum to coat her cock before looming above you, her hands caging you on opposite sides before her left hand moves to your neck, applying pressure–you gasp and jut your hips against her appendage.

The necklace presses against yours with a cold sting.

Ada’s nails dig against your neck, a hiss befalls your lips in both pleasure and pain as she thrusts her entire length. The head easily parts your folds as she glides into you in one swift motion, impaling you with her cock.

The sheer girth of her shaft spreads your cunt until your walls are stretched thin around her. Overstimulation shoots throughout your body, screaming in erotic delight while you claw the sheets and gasp for air. Winded by her thrust. The mixture of her cock and your mixed juices makes you feel full. Your walls flutter, pulsing as Ada sets a brutal pace.

“Ada!” You cry out as her hand leaves your neck, her lips latch onto your shoulder. Her hips hit the curvature of your ass–you can feel her toned stomach flex and stiff at her pace as she moans your name. Holding you down by the shoulders as she jackhammers inside you. Your body feels hot in contrast to hers as you meet every roll of her hips.

Your head falls against the pillows, letting the older woman have her way with you as her fangs dig against the flesh where your neck and shoulders meet–you cry out.

“You are mine,” She growls as soon as she retracts her fangs and grinds her hips rough. “Do you understand, pretty girl?”

Your pussy clamps vigorously, sweat dripping down your temple, moaning with abandon, your mixed juices now trailing down your thighs, body covered in both sweat and dried blood.

Ada’s patience runs thin as she slams her hips, “I asked you a question. Do you understand?”

“Y-yes,”

She rewards you with desperate pounds; feral. Her hands grab any skin available for the taking.

You let out a loud moan as you felt her cock hit a certain spongy area, your back arches against her front. A vile grin breaks into Ada’s lips as she repeatedly targets the spot, your arms and thighs quiver with every penetrative slam, woes of pleasure leaving your lips.

Ada drops her head against your nape, her fangs pressed against your nape, refraining from sinking into your flesh as your walls flutter as you come undone, the older woman finishes after you as she stills her hips and shoots rope after rope before pulling out.

The sticky mix of your cum smeared everywhere–filthy, disgusting… yet a beautiful, filthy mess.

You let out a frail moan as more of your cum leaks out of your abused cunt.

The creature delicately lays you on your back–the most gentle she has been so far.

Your blood coats her skin, her lips smudged with blood as she settles in-between your legs before pressing her lips against yours.

You return her kiss, with a shaky hand, you cup her cheek as she presses you against the pillows, her lips devouring yours. Her pointed canines gently cut the skin of your lips, but none of you minded as you taste the salty and metallic flavor of your blood, but to Ada–it’s sweet nectar.

You pull for air only for the creature to chase your lips with a soft grunt, your blood trickles down to your chin as you keep kissing her until your lungs burned for oxygen.

You open your eyes–finally taking in your surroundings… Was your room always this bright?

As the first light of dawn kissed the room, you froze, watching in horror as cracks began to form along Ada’s face. Her pale skin, once smooth and unyielding, now splintered like fragile porcelain.

“No, please…” you whispered, reaching out to her instinctively.

Ada turned to you, her crimson eyes softening, betraying the faintest glimmer of emotion. “Do not mourn me yet,” she murmured, her voice low but steady. “I am not so easily undone.”

Desperation clawed at your chest as you tightened the blanket around both of you, shielding her from the sunlight seeping through the window. Her arms encircled you, colder than ever before, yet somehow comforting.

“Ada,” you pleaded, your voice breaking. “Don’t leave me.”

“I won’t,” she replied, her lips curling into a faint, almost wistful smile. “But there is a price, my sweet rose. There always is.”

As she spoke, a sharp pain erupted in your chest. You gasped, clutching at your heart as a cold fire spread through your veins. Ada held you close, her grip both tender and unyielding, as the venom coursing through your blood consumed you.

“It’s already begun,” she said, almost reverently. “Your heartbeat will slow. Your warmth will fade. And when it is over, you will be as I am.”

You shuddered, torn between terror and exhilaration. “What will I become?”

“My equal,” she whispered, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

“Bound to me for eternity. You will no longer crave the comfort of the sun, but you will have me.” Her lips hovered above yours. “Always.”

The sunlight grew brighter, and you felt your strength waning, but Ada’s presence anchored you. The cracks on her skin stopped spreading, though they remained etched into her features like scars of battle.

“Do you accept this fate?” she asked, her tone soft but commanding.

You hesitated, the weight of her question pressing down on you. But as her eyes bore into yours, you knew there was no turning back.

“Yes,” you breathed.

With a predatory smile, Ada leaned in, her fangs glinting in the light as she whispered against your skin, “Then we begin again.”

She sank her teeth into your neck, and this time, there was no fear, no shame—only a profound, unrelenting connection. As the venom claimed you fully, your vision blurred, the room dissolving into a haze of darkness and light.

When you awoke, the sunlight no longer burned. You stood, unsteady but alive, your senses heightened. The air tasted of earth, leather, and smoke, but now it was intoxicating.

Ada stood beside you, her cracks fading, her smile triumphant. She took your hand, her touch no longer cold but perfectly attuned to yours.

“You are mine,” she said, a hint of pride in her voice.

“And you are mine,” you replied, your voice steady.

Together, you turned toward the window, the dawn no longer a threat but a new beginning.

Fin.

#ada wong x reader #resident evil #ada wong #resident evil x reader #resident evil x you #postedthisonao3too #resident evil remake #ada wong smut

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letternotekisses · 6 months ago

Note

Hngg I need more assistant reader, the way you write is so scrumptious. I’m curious how akande would share her with moira, since moira is so work oriented and ‘professional’ so to speak.

Moira is definitely slower to approach the whole ordeal in general - much like Amelie. She’s very much consumed within her work to even think about your presence. Akande introduces you with small tasks - picking up documents from Moira’s lab or sending you to check up on her progress rather than himself. It’s a slow start, but steadily Moira becomes accustomed to your presence.

At first she’s tolerant. Much like how she is with everyone else - she’s happy to make you squirm with empty promises of experimentation or wave you off with a cold disposition. But your presence while she works steadily becomes more frequent - and even whilst her attention is monopolised Moira finds herself responding in kind to your innocent and curious questions. You know next to nothing about her projects or her work in general, yet she’s patient and thorough in her explanations.

Eventually she becomes more intrigued with you to the point where she starts preparing for your visits, because she knows you like to loiter a little longer then you should when Akande sends you. Your body doubling sometimes actually expedites her work on occasion - so it never really bothers him that much.

Moira has eyes like a hawk, and if you’re swept off your feet with annoying requests from the Talon grunts who think they can pester you into doing menial tasks for them, she’s quick to draw a chair out for you and bundle some snacks and drinks into your lap. You playfully tell her she’s warming up to you. She insists it’s nonsense and that you can’t do your job properly if you pass out.

But she never eats the snacks tucked away, nor does she take a drink from the mini fridge for herself. Why would she? They’re for you.

And that’s exactly when she realises she’s been snared. But Moira isn’t upset at it - you’re of no hindrance to her work - so she allows herself to enjoy your company. (And technically shared ownership of a previous lab rabbit named Lucky. If you know, you know)

You don’t help yourself by consistently bringing her a coffee and a neatly decorated cake in the early mornings, dipping your pinkie finger into the cream to steal a taste right out from under her nose. You always drape yourself over her desk just right, nosying in her work while she’s nosying down your shirt.

You’re raising her sugar levels and her blood pressure all at once. And she’s absolutely convinced you’ll be the death of her.

So when you’re then bent over said desk, tight skirt hiked up your thighs so she can rip a ladder in your tights when she tugs them down, neatly manicured nails (the colour she let you pick out) digging into the fat of your hips as she traces her tongue over your needy pussy through the pretty purple panties she’s convinced you wore for her - how on Earth can you blame her?

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doumadono · 2 years ago

Text

Upper Moons & Muzan & blind s/o - headcanons

Warnings: blind fem!reader Requested by: anonymous

MASTERLIST

Muzan

Initially, he dismisses you as someone unworthy of his attention. He sees your disability as a weakness, something that only hinders your existence. This disdainful attitude stems from his belief in power and dominance, where strength is synonymous with worth. As Muzan observes you navigating the world with remarkable resilience and adaptability, a small flicker of curiosity sparks within him. Your ability to face adversity head-on, overcoming obstacles that would have left others paralyzed, commands his respect. He is fascinated by your sheer willpower and the strength you exhibit despite your visual impairment.

Kokushibo

At first, Kokushibo maintains his stoic demeanor, but as he observes you, a flicker of curiosity sparks within him. He is intrigued by the your ability to navigate the world without relying on sight. Secretly, he admires your resilience and resourcefulness, seeing it as a testament to the power of human adaptability. Kokushibo deeply admires the strength you possess, recognizing the immense challenges of living and navigating life without vision.

Akaza

Akaza, with his fierce and protective nature, feels a strong sense of responsibility towards you. He becomes your steadfast guardian, always ensuring your safety and offering unwavering support. Despite his own frustrations and inner turmoil, witnessing your unwavering determination inspires him to overcome his own obstacles. Driven by his deep respect for women, he wholeheartedly dedicates himself to providing you with unwavering care and assistance. He sees it as his personal mission to ensure your well-being, going above and beyond to support you in every possible way.

Douma

At first, Douma finds amusement in the fact that you are blind. He has never encountered someone like you before, whose heightened senses compensate for the lack of sight. Your unique perspective and abilities intrigue him, adding an element of novelty to your interactions. However, as he spends more time with you, he begins to unravel a newfound empathy within himself. He realizes that your lack of sight accentuates your other senses, making them acutely perceptive and sensitive. In a rare display of vulnerability, Douma becomes your confidant, offering solace and a listening ear, understanding that sometimes, the most profound connections are forged in darkness.

Sekido

Sekido, with his straightforward and practical nature, struggles to comprehend your blindness. Sekido's frustration simmers beneath the surface when you get lost easily or face moments of doubt due to your blindness. It's difficult for him to find the right words to console you, as his anger clouds his ability to express empathy. He approaches the situation with a mix of confusion and frustration, finding it difficult to relate to your experiences. However, as he witnesses your unwavering determination and unwavering spirit, he gains a newfound appreciation for your resilience. Slowly, he learns to adapt his straightforward ways to offer support in practical ways, becoming your dependable ally in a sightless world.

Urogi

Urogi, with his carefree and whimsical personality, takes an immediate liking to you. He sees your lack of sight as an opportunity to introduce you to a different perspective on life. Urogi becomes your guide, using vivid descriptions and tactile experiences to paint a vivid picture of the world around you. Urogi, in his playful nature, frequently explores the heightened sensitivity of your other senses, particularly touch. Sometimes, without any warning, he runs his talons gently up and down your back, causing you to let out an unexpected yelp of surprise.

Karaku

Karaku is initially uncertain how to approach you. He chooses to observe from the sidelines, quietly noting your interactions with others. Karaku, known for his mischievous nature, approaches the situation with a lighthearted demeanor. He teases you about being blind, using humor as a way to cope with the circumstances. While his jests may sometimes border on insensitivity, his intention is to bring levity and laughter into your life. He sees it as an opportunity to foster resilience and self-empowerment, encouraging you to rise above the limitations and find strength within yourself. Inspired by your perceptive nature, Karaku finds solace in your presence, learning that sometimes, silence speaks louder than any visual spectacle.

Aizetsu

Aizetsu, embodying the essence of sorrow, can't help but feel a deep sadness in witnessing your lack of vision. He understands the profound impact that sight has on one's perception of the world and the emotions that arise from not being able to experience it fully. Aizetsu feels an immediate sense of protectiveness towards you. He becomes your unwavering support, offering a steady arm and a calming presence. His gentle guidance allows you to navigate the world with confidence, providing reassurance in your moments of doubt. Aizetsu, the reflection of sorrow, feels a deep connection to you. He recognizes a kindred spirit in you, as you both carry a weight of darkness within.

Zohakuten

Zohakuten, with his brash and impulsive nature, struggles to comprehend your blindness. He often finds himself frustrated by your inability to appreciate the beauty he sees in the world. However, as he witnesses your unwavering determination and strength, he begins to question his own prejudices. Zohakuten begins to admire the profound strength that emanates from deep within you, independent of your senses. He's quick to defend you when his counterparts treat you in a manner he deems unacceptable. He engages in heated arguments with them, standing up for your well-being and demanding that you be treated with the respect and care he believes you deserve.

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roguelov · 2 years ago

Text

Bubblegum Pop

Summary: An annoying habit of yours - popping your gum - finally pushed Miguel over the edge. So, he decided to finally take action.

Word Count: ~1.7k

Reader: Gender Neutral (not specified)

Warnings: Brief heated make-out (nothing more, just a hint of spice), a little arguing, unestablished relationship

Pop.

Hunched forward - back aching slightly from the uncomfortable position - at your new desk in Miguel’s office, you blew yet again another bubble. It was the umpteenth one within the short hour. Miguel gritted his teeth, each pop grated on his ears.

Why? Why did he agree to this?

Ah, yes, your scientific background.

You had offered your assistance to try to find a more permanent way to prevent anomalies from spilling out into other universes. He was obviously reluctant at first, but before he could say no - as per usual with any help - Lyla appeared saying yes for him. Sighing, he relented. He did need help, he happened to also be very stubborn too. But, he definitely did not agree to deal with your annoying habit.

Wherever you went, and at most times of the day, a piece of gum was slotted between your teeth. You always chewed on a piece, enjoying the simple habit. You like rolling it over your tongue and throughout your mouth, savoring the always fleeting minty taste, and of course blowing bubbles. Sigmund Freud might say you have an oral fixation.

Worst of all, in Miguel’s opinion, the sweet minty aroma clung fiercely to you. One brush by and his senses were assaulted by you.

And it drove Miguel insane.

Dear god, he wanted to kiss you, knowing exactly how you would taste on his tongue. He wanted to have you pinned beneath him, writhing in pleasure. He wanted to nuzzle his nose into your neck, inhaling deeply and running his tongue over your skin. He wanted to -

Pop.

Miguel flinched.

His spiraling thoughts were viciously cut short; thankfully before he got too heated and distracted. His lips thinned. His anger wasn’t all directed solely at you, but mostly at himself for delving into such lustful thoughts. Again.

It was just easier to be angry at someone else.

Miguel peered over his shoulder, glaring a little at you. He stood at his desk on the circular platform that rested a foot off the ground, rather than raised high above towards the ceiling. He tried to keep his voice calm as he spoke, “Can you stop that?”

“Huh?” You glanced over at him slightly confused. The piece of gum rested on your bottom lip and teeth before your tongue swept it back into the dark corners of your mouth. “What?”

Oh, that only further irritated him; your genuine obliviousness to how annoying and frustrating your popping was to his sensitive ears. As if proving his point, you absentmindedly blew another bubble.

“That. Stop doing that,” he huffed.

You blinked, “Oh, uh, sorry.”

You quickly turned back to your screens. You felt a little embarrassed. It wasn’t intentional - it never was - and you felt somewhat guilty for upsetting him. You thought about spitting it out, but you enjoyed the minor stimulation. Then again, you supposed you should act a little more professional. Maybe, you will try to cut back.

Maybe.

Miguel eyed you for a moment. Your figure was hunched forward again. Yet, there was a new tension woven into your body, as if you were trying to shrink away. He sighed. He shouldn’t have snapped, and he should apologize. However, he didn’t. Not surprising. So, he spun around focusing back on his own work.

An hour must have passed. Another agonizing hour with no progress or improvements to show for it.

What fun.

You leaned back in your chair, looking up at the high vaulted ceiling. Crossing your arms, you let out a disappointed sigh.

One act - one simple sigh - and Miguel had to suppress a groan. He was instantly overwhelmed by the sweet mint. He dug his fingers into the edges of his desk. The desk creaked under such strength. His talons definitely made small dents as he desperately held himself back. It was all so enticing. He wanted to taste you, and his body craved you.

Oblivious to Miguel’s struggle, you allowed your thoughts to consume you. Some were important - like the multiple ideas to seal the leaking portals issue to possible new ways to improve Spider Society in general - to the completely irrelevant - such as a song stuck in your head from this morning, thoughts about what to have for dinner, to the more perverse ones about a certain hot headed spider. Thoughts about anything and everything, but not about what Miguel asked of you. No, that one thing had been quickly brushed aside and forgotten: don’t blow any more bubbles.

Your tongue was already going through the habit, a muscle memory at this point. You flattened out the surprisingly still minty gum, rolling over it a few times. Moving it around, you pressed the now stretched piece of gum to your teeth. And without a care or sparing a second thought, you blew.

The small pop was quite deafening in the silent, vast room. So much, it reverberated and echoed just a bit. Almost cartoonishly so.

You instantly flinched in your seat. You almost didn’t dare look over at him. His wrath already emanated from him in waves. Slowly peering over, more so out of curiosity, all you saw was Miguel’s back. His muscles were wrought in tight agitated nerves. You hissed through your teeth and sheepishly mumbled, “Sorry.”

Miguel exhaled loudly, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “God, can’t you do the one thing I asked of you?”

The main problem of Miguel O’Hara was that his anger was infectious. Your embarrassment, and regret, vanished instantaneously. His snide comment set a fire inside of you.

Pop.

Miguel whipped his head around. You leaned causally back in your chair with a bored expression. You cocked an eyebrow and blew another bubble in his direction.

His eyes widened, the gall of you. He stepped down from his desk area, and marched over to you. His eyes burned with a firey irritation. You should be intimidated - and admittedly you were. However, you wouldn’t outwardly show it. He grabbed the back of your swivel chair and whirled you around. He bent down. His hands landed on the armrests, caging you in and looming over you threateningly. “Spit it out.”

You popped another bubble. “No.”

A waft of mint filled his nose. He gritted his teeth. “Spit it out,” he repeated, seething in anger.

You puckered your lips. You didn’t answer. Miguel thought you had finally come to your senses at least.

Nope. He was wrong.

Your lips parted. The pale blue gum was stretched over your tongue. Pressing it to your teeth, you blew. The pop echoed louder than all the others before, or it seemed like it did. A bit of gum stuck to your lip, but you quickly licked it away.

Miguel twitched.

He reached out, grabbing your face and smushing your cheeks. His talons started to dig into your cheeks. You thought he was going to force you to spit it out. You tucked the gum in the back corner of your mouth, then glared ferociously up at him. You tried to jerk your head out of his grasp, but he kept you firmly in place.

He leaned in. His crimson eyes burned brightly. You expected more heated words, calling you such things like childish or immature. Hell, for a brief second, you expected him to reach inside of your mouth. But, he surprised you.

His lips collided with yours.

You inhaled sharply, eyes going wide.

Yet, he did not falter.

Oh, he had you now, and he was ready to devour you. He wanted you. His teeth - his fangs - grazed over your bottom lip. You shivered, and piece by piece you leaned more and more into the kiss. Your resolve, and confusion, melted away. Your eyes fluttered close, thoroughly enjoying this strange turn of events.

Why? Why was this happening … why do I care? Enjoy it.

His hand moved and wrapped around the back of your neck. Tugging on the edges of your hair, he tipped your head back further. He deepened the kiss. His tongue skimmed by, begging for entrance. You happily, almost too eagerly, obliged. Humming pleased, his tongue slipped inside and swirled around. You reached out, bunching up the front of his suit. A moan rumbled in the back of your throat.

And he swallowed it up.

Fuck.

His tongue explored, tasted, and continuously drew out such desires. Your thoughts seized, and your skin ignited with passion. His lips were the gasoline to a small kindling fire inside of you. You were set ablaze. Your heart pounded in your ears, nearly drowning out the sensual noises of him attacking your lips. Your body burned hotter and hotter with each passing second. You were aching for him. To be fair, you always did. But, you never thought the day would come. And you never expected for him to make the first move.

It was too much, and somehow not enough.

Unfortunately, this bizzare dream ended. He pulled away, breaking the kiss. You whined very faintly.

Why? Why did it have to end?

Opening your eyes, you saw a thin trail of spit connecting to his lips from yours. He easily wiped it away with his tongue. You shivered. His eyes shone with such amusement. He greatly enjoyed the effect he had on you. You were breathing heavily, gasping for air. Your whole body slouched forward, drooped with the desire he brought out.

Why? What -

Miguel then smirked mischievously. Ever so slowly, he parted his lips, revealing a piece of gum nestled between his front teeth. You blinked, a jolt ran down your spine. No. Your tongue searched your mouth. Oh yes indeed, that was your gum.

Your eyes widened.

He turned his head, spitting it out in the nearby waste bin.

“Next time,” he began and bent back down to your level. His eyes dropped to your swollen, abused lips. Smirking, he teasingly wiped the corner of your mouth with his thumb. He gently held your chin, tipping it up. Leaning in, he whispered to your lips, “Listen.”

Your mouth just hung agape in stunned silence.

“Now, get back to work.” He let his fingers trail along your jaw, before heading back to his desk.

He was utterly satisfied with the outcome, and pleased to think he made his point perfectly clear. You, on the other hand, made a mental note to always carry a pack of gum on you at all times from now on.

A point was made, just not one Miguel had hoped.

#across the spiderverse #astv #spiderverse #spiderman #miguel o'hara #miguel spiderverse #astv miguel #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel x reader #gn!reader #gender neutral reader

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mandobatemans · 2 years ago

Text

nsfw miguel o'hara (spider-man 2099) headcanons (f!reader)

MINORS DNI!!!!!!!!

warnings: biting, edging, knife play lowkey but not really, bondage, size kink, breeding kink, oral (m & f receiving), if i missed any lmk, NSFW UNDER THE CUT

word count: 599

also posted on ao3

•fangs. let's talk about them.

• you’re kind of obsessed with them

• you like to lick his fangs while you’re making out, dragging your tongue over the sharp teeth while he’s gripping your hair in his hand

• when he has his mouth on your tits he bites the flesh there ever-so-gently, holding eye contact with you the whole time

• that sends you right over the edge

• speaking of edging, in a perfect universe, miguel would be able to hold out and edge you for hours

• but your begging and whining is just too pretty and goes right to his dick, so he always gives in fairly quickly

• he can put up with a lot of shit, but with you moaning underneath him, he’d give you anything you asked for

• his talons.

• imagine knife play but it’s with his talons. yeah.

• those things can tear into metal but your miguel would never let you get hurt

• you mark each other up all the time. he scratches up your back just as much as you scratch up his

• being a spider-person comes with certain responsibilities around powers. that being said, he will use webs as an assist in your bondage play

• who needs rope or a tie when you have high-tech webs?

• if you EVER told another spider-person how he uses his webs in the bedroom, he would vehemently deny it. he has to set a good example, of course

• LOVES pinning you against surfaces: the wall, your bed, upside down on the ceiling, you name it

• you guys have had sex upside down on the bedroom ceiling before. there are perks to sticking to walls

• little bit of a size kink. like, dude is HUGE. he’s convinced (and you aren't complaining) that his shoulders were made so your legs could be thrown over them

• the first time you sleep together, he’s extremely gentle with you, letting you set the pace as you adjust to his size

• once you've been together for a while, though, assuming you’re okay with it and up for it that night, he’ll push right into you without giving you time to adjust and set a punishing pace the second he’s seated in you

• sometimes he’ll put his hand on your belly to feel his cock drilling into you through your stomach

• he could eat you out for hours

• holds your legs open with all of his strength and licks and laps at you until you’re screaming his name and gripping at his hair for leverage

• he has powers, yeah, but his real powers are the duo of his nose and tongue, one rubbing your clit and the other exploring your cunt

• he’d prefer to pleasure you, but won't say no to you returning the favor

• it takes everything in him not to fuck your face, you just look so pretty with him down your throat

• when you give him the okay, he loses any ounce of composure he had and is thrusting into your mouth until drool and tears mix on your chin

• when you open your mouth wide to show him you swallowed, he praises you, calling you a good girl in Spanish or English, depending how quick he recovers from his orgasm

• probably has a breeding kink too

• cums in you, collects what drips down your thighs on his fingers, then finger fucks it back into you

• he desperately wants you to have his baby

A/N: guys i will write 100 more of these if you want me to. i have miguel brainrot and i have it BAD.

#my fic #headcanons #miguel o'hara #miguel o hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o hara x reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 #spider-man 2099 #across the spiderverse #atsv

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eldritch-spouse · 11 months ago

Note

Kalymir and tactition reader? Sort of a brains and brawn situation?

[I enjoy this. "Big dumb villain and their smart assistant that's not paid enough"-core.]

He starts pacing around the table, always does, when something you say isn't to his liking.

" DON'T FUCK ME! "

Fortunately, you were hired to be the brains to his muscle, not to glaze his metaphorical balls.

" M'lord I'm fairly certain I couldn't even if I tired. " You eye him up and down, silently asking if he's done with his bitchfit. " Nonetheless, I believe this is no time to be aggressive. You'd do well to send scouts- "

" SCOUTS?! " He snarls at the top of his rather annoyingly large lungs. Some kind of battle axe flies over your head, decapitating baby hairs. You barely blink as it embeds itself into the wall behind you. " THIS IS BARELY A PROPER SETTLEMENT! I SHOULDN'T HAVE TO EVEN THINK ABOUT THIS PIECE OF SHIT RESISTANCE POCKET- "

The King stomps forward on mighty talons, nearly swiping your pondering orb away as he gestures toward it with a fury of such might that it makes the muscles in his arms swell.

" LOOK AT THESE INSECTS! "

" Precisely. "

The demonlord looks as if his honest desire is to cut your back open and slurp the spinal cord out. Yet, in the midst of the anger constantly frying his nerve endings, is a tungsten carbide core of minimal intelligence that reminds him eviscerating you is a most terrible idea.

" EXPLAIN THEN, YOU MOUTHY CUNT. "

" I've been trying to do so this entire time. "

" THE FUCKING NERVE Y- "

" This resistance pocket- " You start, snapping your fingers repeatedly as if trying to garner a large dog's attention. " Is mixed and dangerous, m'lord. "

Although Kalymir is visibly fuming, he does listen.

You scroll through the field of view offered by the hidden summoned aid currently hiding in tall trees. It provides a top-down map feed of the location Kalymir's latest headache has been operating from. Currently, at least. People buzz from one side to another, not many in numbers but extremely well-organized and efficient, almost as if controlled by something.

" Notice there are more than just wrathful demons in the midst, this group employs humans and monsters, especially the less social of the bunch. The kind of monster you'd find hiding in darkened places, isolated but by no means uneducated. To gain the alliance of these monsters, one would need a surprising sense of- "

" I'M FUCKING SNOOZING HERE... "

Sometimes, you're the one that wants to maul him.

There's a tired sigh.

" Harmonious diversity equals no-no. "

Pause.

" I'M NOT A BABY, YOU SURFACE WHORE. "

" Putting that aside, I'm sure you've noticed by now, that they brandish weapons of ancient times. The very things that allowed the initial group to leave the Rings unscathed despite being hunted, not just in Wrath but in the territory of all the Lords you've made agreements with. "

" CELESTIAL WEAPONRY. " The warlord sneers, thoughtful.

" Yes. "

Kalymir shakes his head.

" YOU CAN'T TELL ME THEY'RE ALLIED TO ANGELS! MOST ARE DEMONS, YOU CAN'T BRIBE ANGELS INTO HANDING THEIR TOOLS OVER- " He slams both fists onto the worn and dented table, making your chair jump. " THEY'RE HARDLY EVEN SEEN. AND LIKE FUCKING HELL THESE PARASITES CAN KILL ONE! "

A smug smile tugs your lips. " But, my King, they don't need to be allied to angels to have those. "

Kalymir makes a rare effort to calm down, sharpened claws tapping at the same table. You can hear a heavy-tipped tail swing, the woosh mildly distracting.

" SPEAK! "

" The archives. "

You can hear the gears melting in his cranium.

" THE ARCHIVES... " He stands, mighty body straight as he beings putting two and two together. " THE ARCHIVES! "

You nod, arms crossing.

Not just any archives, the Royal Archives of Wrath, containing a litany of detailed instructions in old Infernal about how to dispatch different types of celestials. The same archives that guarded weapons of Eden stolen from perished angels, weapons that destroyed the limbs of the brave demons who managed to retrieve them, whose core names and sigils have been carved into the cases holding these artifacts. Those are the only celestial weapons left behind, as far as anyone knows. The type of material prize a lord of Wrath would die protecting.

" NO! " He barks once he realizes the first possibility that statement implies.

" Yes, my King. "

" NO ONE COULD HAVE BROKEN IN, YOU SNOT-BRAINED ANKLE BITER! "

Hm, that one's new.

He's right, no one could have broken in, he knows you know this, and the fact that you always seem one little step ahead of him is both infuriating to the King but also exciting.

" Correct. "

" THEN- "

" Who has access to the Royal Archives of Wrath? "

" I DO! I'M THE KING- "

" And who had access? "

As soon as you ask that, he falls eerily silent, pacing again, this time to the opposite display of weapons, subconsciously studying them as he thinks.

" IMPOSSIBLE. "

You recline on the chair, eyes closing. " Is it? "

" I BUTCHERED HIM! I HUMILIATED HIM. HIS VERY SKULL SITS ABOVE MY THRONE OF VICTORIES! "

" His offspring, my King. His descendants. " As far as you know, they were only juveniles when Kalymir murdered their father.

" ONE DIED IN THE CRUCIBLE... "

" The other...? "

Kalymir doesn't answer, he doesn't know. And neither did you, not until very recently.

You don't need to spell the implications out this time, he gets there on his own two synapses.

" YOU CAN'T BE SERIOUS. " The demonlord bristles, not because he finds the suggestion ridiculous, but likely because it's going to make things a lot more interesting.

" But I am. He can't show his face, it'd be too risky, but some dissenting demons still recognize and have followed him to the surface. He then seeks the help of monsters living in the margins of societies or straight up outside of them, safer options to utilize holy weapons. And not just that, these monsters muddle our understanding of the resistance's origins and goals, adding humans to the mix just makes it all more confusing. Many of the non-demonic members are likely under contractual obligation to do this too, I'd reckon. "

The King is silent.

" Think about it. You lost track of them a long time ago. This prince-to-be witnessed the death of his father, his brother, his mother has likely died of old age. He has nothing. Nothing but a sweltering desire to dethrone you. This is his doing. "

A cruel glint settles in your eyes, belying that there is room for your frigid coldness in the boiling Ring.

" Unfortunately, he must have been too young to properly absorb his father's teachings, because this is amateurish at best. A little bit of care and thought is all you need to nip his budding plans, m'lord. "

The King smiles, drags a hand down his face, chest heaving faster as a very thunderous bark of raucous laughter shakes the entire fortress. The clapping of meaty red hands accentuates how wolfishly delighted he is.

" YOU GLORIOUS, ROTTEN WENCH! HOW COULD I NOT HAVE SEEN THIS?! "

Yes, really, how did he not see this a mile away? He should have figured it out before you, you actually had to do research concerning the past ruler of Wrath.

Kalymir damn near sprints towards you, reaching over the table to grab you up by the collar of your outfit.

" LEAD ME TO HIM, STRATEGIST. TELL ME HOW TO GET MY HANDS ON THE WORTHLES TWERP. I WILL WEAR HIS BROTHER'S SKIN. "

" Of course, my King. I will lead you to victory as always. "

" GOOD. GOOD LITTLE HUMAN. "

You're dropped back down unceremoniously, feeling a creak in your hip but remaining composed. Kalymir is clearly getting overly excited over the whole deal, you can tell he'll be obsessing over it from now on.

" WE WILL MAKE A NEW CHANDELIER OF HIS BONES. "

Satisfied, there's a pep to the demonlord's step as he makes to leave, opening the great doors to his hall.

" AND ONCE THIS IS OVER, YOU- "

" YOU WILL SIT BESIDE ME AS QUEEN. "

#Kalymir oc #I've always wanted to use pondering orb unironically

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enchantedchocolatebars · 4 months ago

Text

Noticed (Kikimora x Coven Scout! Reader)

Summary: After discreetly observing Kikimora's unsuccessful attempt to convey the weight of her feelings to Belos, you (the reader) make the decision to share your feelings with her.

Ao3 version

Requested by user on ao3.

Enjoy!

You've been a Coven Scout in the Emperor's Coven for quite some time, patrolling the Boiling Isles and Bonesborough with your fellow scouts and participating in a slew of perilous missions led by whichever Guard Captain was placed in charge that current day.

Presently, you were peering through the keyhole of the Emperor's throne room door, surreptitiously watching the interaction between him and the red demon with a short stature and an adorably shrill voice that you've been secretly admiring ever since you started serving your respected coven.

She was the Emperor's assistant, but it was clear that she had a desire to be more based on her diminutive, shy tone and the traces of blush emitting from behind her high collar.

You tried to listen more into the conversation.

"Your Grace?"

"Yes?"

"This is very difficult for me to admit, but... I wanted to... I just wanted to confess that..."

Kikimora paused for a brief second before deciding to start with a new sentence, voicing her sincerity.

While doing so, she pressed her index fingers together.

"You mean a great deal to the witches and demons who follow you. That especially goes for me, and I just wanted to say to you that..."

Belos couldn't help but release a small chuckle at her obvious affection for him, but it wasn't a mocking laugh as he removed his mask.

Smiling down at Kikimora with the same gentle smile that he gave everyone in his castle, Belos proceeded to gently pat her head a few times, causing Kiki's blush to intensify as she averted her gaze.

"What a fanciful way of saying you'll handle the rest of my duties for the remainder of the day."

After hearing her boss's response, Kikimora felt a sharp pain in her chest, like a stake to the heart, and her shoulders slouched immediately.

"Yes...," she mumbled out broken-heartedly, a droplet of sweat appearing on the side of her clawlike hair to display her disappointment.

"That's... exactly what I meant to say, my liege."

...

'Of course the great emperor doesn't reciprocate the same feelings. He's only the most powerful witch on the Isles and far too busy for love and romance. And even if he wasn't, why would he consider giving someone like me a chance?'

Kikimora said internally to herself, negative thoughts plaguing her mind as she sighed dolefully, pushing open the right side of the throne room door.

The moment she noticed a scout near the left side of the door, Kiki swiftly jumped.

Her fingery bangs rose as they revealed both her eyes, which were wide with shock.

"A scout?!" Kikimora shrieked, hoping to Titan that they didn't hear all of what was said in the throne room.

"My apologies, Ms. Kikimora," you quickly apologized, giving her a respectful bow. "I didn't mean to frighten you, ma'am."

Having quickly recovered from her surprise, Kikimora formed a frown of annoyance at you.

The demoness crossed her arms, tapping her talon soon after.

"You weren't eavesdropping on my conversation with the emperor, were you? Because if you were, I won't hesitate to--"

"These are for you!" you abruptly interrupt the assistant, revealing to her a bouquet of green and purple fly trap flower plants and a red bile-shaped box of shockolates that were beautifully adorned with a pink bow from behind your back.

Such gifts greatly surprised Kiki, and she slowly accepted them.

The demoness blinked twice, heartfelt emotions rushing through her.

"W-Wah?" she quietly uttered out. "These are for...?"

You gave a nod of your head.

"Yes," you answered, shifting to a shy stance as you rested a hand behind your head.

You gulped.

"I've noticed a lot of your plans and work throughout my time in the coven, and well, I just want to say that you're the prettiest, most intelligent, and reliable person in the whole castle!" you squeaked out, talking a mile a minute.

The prettiest, most intelligent, AND reliable?

Kikimora was already blinking out tears in her eyes from your words.

"I..." Your face tints red from behind your mask, steam practically rising out of your eyeholes as you swiftly take off.

"Hope you like them!" you shout, embarrassed by your decision to run.

As Kikimora watches you bolt down the hall, she directs her gaze to the bouquet and shockolates.

It felt... nice to be noticed for once.

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impale-me-radio-daddy · 1 year ago

Text

The Lookalike (Part 5)

☒ Summary: The first thing you remembered after your death was an argument. “No, this isn’t one of my fucking sluts.” The man behind you exhaled, frustrated. “This is a present for you. Something to help you work through your Alastor fixation.” You awaken in Hell as the near-spitting image of a certain infamous radio host. Unfortunately for you, you immediately fall into the clutches of his nemesis, and then into the talons of the Radio Demon himself.

☒ Warnings: hermaphrodite!reader, deer!reader, they/them pronouns used, Alastor X reader, Vox X reader, Alastor X Vox, drug use, explicit sexual content, reader is in Hell for a reason, Valentino, canon typical scenarios.

☒ Author's note: This is now a series! Part I Part2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 6 Part 6 BONUS SCENE Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Epilogue

Given that you were the same size, and the intention was to have you pose as him, Alastor allowed you to raid his wardrobe without complaint. The bulk of it was variants on the same outfit, a palette swapped version of the suit that Vox had dressed you in, but you found enough pieces in the back to entertain yourself; a dress shirt with suspenders over it, a waistcoat, a jaunty little fez that attached to the hair with a hairpin and a cravat to hide the bruising on your neck.

You still looked like Alastor, but more of a bellhop than a concierge, and weighing the man’s gaze on you, you could tell this had been the right decision. He viewed you as his lesser, and seeing that reflected in your dress gave a less guarded edge to his smile that had not been there before.

Alastor returned your things to you, the wire and the aphrodisiac, and led you out into the hotel proper to introduce you to the rest of the staff.

“This here is Niffty,” said Alastor, fondly, gesturing to the pint-sized demon in a maid’s outfit who ran up to you as the two of you entered the lobby.

“Hello, Niffty,” you said, extending a hand to her. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Niffty stared up at you, her single eye wide and curious. Rather than speak, she placed a large dead cockroach in your open palm, then smiled at you toothily before running away.

Alastor’s eyes creased at the corners. “I think she likes you,” he said. “But who knows, honestly, so watch your back. The others here are Vaggie, with the one eye, the grumpy pussycat behind the bar is Husker, and that one there is our hotel’s singular guest, Angel Dust. Lucifer and his daughter aren’t here right now, but you’ll cross paths soon enough.”

Vaggie stopped and stared, her expression at first confused, and then angry. “Alastor, why are there two of you? What did you do?”

Alastor just smiled obliquely. “What did I do? Why, nothing at all. This good fellow is merely my body double. They’ll be assisting me for a while.”

Angel Dust squinted at you from his perch at the bar, his look appraising. “Soo… They slash Them?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Alastor stepped in before you could speak, an arm slung friendly around your shoulders. “Actually I think they’re more of a strangler.”

“So you found yourself a murder twin. Fuckin’ great.” The big cat behind the bar sighed as he polished a glass.

Taking out a handkerchief, you folded it carefully around the dead insect, giving it a little squeeze to check that it was actually dead, and headed over to the bar.

Angel Dust gave you a lascivious grin. “So how was sex with the tv?” he asked, both hands folded under his chin.

This time you felt a chill in the air as Alastor stiffened behind you. You could practically feel the static in his throat.

“I’m sorry?” you cocked your head, apologetic.

“Oh, don’t be coy, I saw the pictures.” Angel Dust winked at you.

“Pictures?” you felt your composure break, just a little. Of course Vox had taken pictures. The bedroom had been studded with cameras, and if you had to guess he probably had at least one embedded in his face. You hadn’t expected him to distribute them though. And though you’d only been in your body a few days, it was a little galling to think of strangers looking at your naked form. Your ears dropped fractionally.

“Oh shit, you didn’t know.” Angel Dust looked genuinely apologetic for about a second. “Well, welcome to Hell, I guess.”

Alastor took a seat beside you, not looking you in the eye. “He didn’t send them to everyone, of course. Only to me.”

“It doesn’t matter who he sends em to if he took em without proper licensing,” said Angel, sagely. “Was he any good at least? Or did he just lay there, with his big flat head?” Angel gestured in a square around his own head.

You gave a tight lipped smile. “I don’t talk about things like that. Past partners, I mean.”

“What’s the harm? Sounds like he already betrayed your trust.”

“Because it’s rude.” You spread your hands. “If I’m just going to behave like the people who wrong me, then who am I, really?”

“You’re in Hell,” said Angel, with a derisive wave of his hand. “Live a little.” He laughed, but Husk slid you a drink across the bartop, and you sensed something that might have been approval in Alastor’s gaze.

Your first week in the hotel passed quickly, with Alastor taking full advantage of your promise to help around the hotel. There were few guests, but the hotel itself was enormous, so most of your tasks consisted of cleaning, dusting, or pulling Niffty out when she got stuck in the air vents.

Alastor didn’t talk about the encounter you had shared, neither the tussle nor the intimacy afterwards, so you were a little surprised when he asked you to move into his room with him. The space inside the room was huge, and at night he would vanish into his personal swamp to do who knew what, leaving you to sleep in his bed with a set of his pajamas on.

A little personal space felt good after days trapped in Vox’s bedroom, but it didn’t take many nights for the bed to feel a little too large with only one body in it. That he was avoiding sharing the bed with you was a certainty; the sheets smelled like him, and more than once you found yourself sleeping curled around one of his pillows, face pressed against the fabric.

The way that Alastor would casually reach out and squeeze one of your antlers if he passed you alone in a hotel corridor told you that the two of you were probably still on kissing terms, or at least that Alastor thought little of such small displays of intimacy.

You spent time watching Alastor where you could, learning his mannerisms and gait. You lacked his magic, of course, but your voice had the same tendency as his to give a tinny, faintly distorted sound, and you found you could replicate his silvery canned laughter with a little effort. The physical part was a little more difficult, with your body still new and a little unsteady, but within the first few days you had a passable imitation of how Alastor walked. There was a quirk to his stride, an intermittent tension to his shoulders, which you began to imitate too. Perhaps it was an injury of some sort, but it was hard to tell. Alastor’s other major quirk was that he never dropped his smile. You didn’t copy that, but took note of it for later.

Walking past the lounge, you caught sight of Charlie and all the residents starting up one of their group activities, and stopped to watch.

Charlie clapped her hands. “Alright, everyone, for our next activity, we are going to do hugging! Everyone pick a partner, and we’ll do a one minute timed hug.”

“We’re one short if we want pairs,” said Vaggie, looking around the room.

“Hey, tall dark and ambiguous,” Angel Dust caught your eye from his place on the sofa, and wiggled an eyebrow suggestively. “You want in on this?”

You checked the watch on your wrist- after hours- and shrugged. “Sure.”

A cold presence manifested behind you. “If my double is joining, it would be remiss of me not to,” said Alastor, emerging from the shadows. His claws settled delicately on your shoulder. “You’ll be my partner, won’t you?”

You glanced back, spotted the possessive look in Alastor’s eyes, and nodded. “Of course. Sorry, Angel.”

Angel Dust gave an audible sigh as Niffty crawled into his lap.

“Alastor? You’re joining? But that leaves us with an odd number again.” Charlie’s face fell.

“That’s okay, Charlie. I can sit this one out.” Lucifer, who had been sitting on the second couch, got to his feet.

“But dad…”

“I’m being a team player. That’s what dads are for, right?” Lucifer gave his daughter a fond smile, which she returned uncertainly. “I’m just gonna take some air.”

“Okay.” Charlie watched her father leave the room, her expression clouded, but she shook her head, taking in the room of people waiting for her to speak. “Uh, okay. So, like I said, we’re going to do the timed hug, and everyone has to ask a question, and answer a question truthfully. I’ll start the stopwatch.”

Sitting in a chair with Alastor was the first time you’d felt his arms around you since he’d climbed atop of you in his bed. His chest fit flush with your back, and he hooked his chin over your shoulder as both of you settled into the cuddle. Had he done this just to stop you from cuddling up with the porn demon? It seemed likely.

“Will you start, or shall I?” Alastor asked, your faces close enough that you breathed the same air. Looking around, no-one in the room was looking at the two of you, each of the participants engrossed in their own quiet conversations.

“Is that your question?” you asked, mildly.

“A question each.” Alastor’s eyes creased at the corners. “Bravo, impostor. I believe we’ve fulfilled the conditions of Charlie’s activity.”

“Not quite. We’re here until the timer goes. So we might as well talk.”

“I suppose. What are you thinking about?”

“I’m wondering why you’ve asked me to sleep in your bed when you have no intention of sharing it with me,” you said, careful to keep your voice low, audible only to him.

“Oh? Is it so surprising that I want to keep an eye on my things?” Alastor’s smile quirked, a challenge. Say you’re not mine. I dare you.

“I don’t see Husk or Niffty sleeping in there,” you said, a soft challenge rather than a direct one.

Alastor trailed a possessive hand from your navel to your chest, making your breath catch in your throat. “Husker and Niffty,” he said quietly. “Do not have my face. Do not mistake their situations for yours.”

“And what is my situation, exactly?” you asked.

Alastor gave a hiss of displeasure at being cornered like this, and you noted the sound. His hand still over your chest, he flexed his claws, the sharp ends pressure points in a pentacle over your heart. “You’re mine,” he said. “Not anyone else’s. Mine.”

That was either deranged or romantic; you couldn’t quite decide which. “Because I look like you?”

“Because no-one else can be allowed to see my- our face. What we look like, in agony or ecstasy.” Alastor’s smile was steady, but his voice had a strained edge even at this low volume.

“That’s just for you, huh.”

“I’m glad you understand.”

“I wouldn’t have a problem with that if I felt like you had any intention of seeing my expressions yourself,” you said, your own quiet challenge. You liked Alastor well enough, but an eternity of celibacy was a tall ask.

Alastor laughed in your ear, the sound silvery, his slight chest trembling with mirth. “What would you propose we do?”

You mulled it over, comfortable in his embrace. Given Alastor’s reticence in sharing the bed, straight up propositioning him for sex probably wasn’t the correct route. “I have the bottle of aphrodisiac I took,” you said, careful not to mention Vox’s name. You’d wanted to have it as an option for your eventual hunts, but you had no idea what the suitable dosages might be. “I wanted to test it as a knockout drug. Help with that?” It was an lowball pitch, an objective besides sex and no obligation for him to perform.

“Surely you’re joking.” Alastor rolled his eyes. “I’m not about to be your test subject.”

“Of course not. You’re stronger than me. I’d be the test subject.” You intended the flattery, acknowledging Alastor’s strength, and caught a flicker of something like pride in his face.

“I suppose I could help with that,” he said, his tone light but his eyes betraying interest. “It might even be entertaining.”

Lucifer approached Alastor’s bedroom door with trepidation, and looked around. That Alastor might have been his inferior in terms of raw power, which the fight with Adam had proved, but he was a tricky one. He had been attending Charlie’s activity with his double, but who was to say there wasn’t a third or fourth Alastor in the hotel somewhere. Lucifer stared at a dark patch on the floor in front of the door for a second too long before realizing it was his own shadow.

Cracking his knuckles, Lucifer transformed himself into a tiny snake with a top hat, and slithered underneath Alastor’s door.

If Mr TV man wanted cameras and microphones all over Alastor’s room, the King of Hell would provide.

Despite your earlier bravery, nervousness was a tightness in your chest as you returned to Alastor’s room that night. Memories of your previous encounter swirled in your gut, and you reminded yourself that he hadn’t agreed to a repeat performance, at least not explicitly.

Alastor was already there, laying out a set of small brass scales on his table, picking the small weights from the velvet box with his talons and lining them up beside it. Wordlessly you stalked up beside him, placing the bottle onto the table and picking out a suitable thimble sized container from the box.

Ingested, or inhaled? Ingested, you decided- you had no idea if the stuff would rip up your airways. Balancing the scales, you measured out a few grams. Given that Vox had just left this laying around in his bedroom, you doubted such a small dose would be lethal, and if it knocked you out for the count, you trusted Alastor enough to put you to bed.

You removed your shoes and waistcoat, taking a seat before you swallowed the powder, clearing your mind and taking stock of your body.

The first wave of the drug’s effects hit immediately, and you were glad you’d been conservative with the dose. The warmth spread from your throat to your chest, leaving your nerve-endings buzzing in its wake as it spread.

Alastor watched, giving you a questioning tilt of the head.

You swallowed as sensation flooded your body, struggling to keep a clear head. “I’m going to run, now. Try and stop me.”

The hardest thing was turning away, not immediately offering yourself up for soft touches, skin against skin. Part of you wanted to turn around and offer to wrestle, but you had a good idea of where that would go. That in itself was a useful effect of the drug, but not enough. Someone who knew they were being hunted by you would have the wherewithal to at least try to run.

With your senses on fire, running was a strange sensation, each bound through Alastor’s ersatz swamp dimension feeling precarious, almost drunken. The air was thick and humid, and it almost felt as if it was pooling in your lungs, slowing you down. As requested, Alastor chased, a shadow in your peripheral vision, glimpses of him spurring you on. He didn’t run full tilt, as you were trying to do, but rather proceeded calmly through the bayou, moving closer with his shadow when your quick pace put him too far behind. The closer he got, the harder it was to keep running. Your arousal was evident to you now, your cock half-hard in your pants, your pulse almost tangible through your core, all the quicker for your physical exertion.

Alastor caught your forearm in his hand, and you stumbled, heart dropping in your chest. The drug was something similar to the rave drugs in the mortal world, making physical contact feel like affection, a little like falling in love, a little like a long night under the stars, backs against the ground.

“You’re not even struggling,” Alastor noted, quietly amused. “Do you think this dosage might suffice?”

“I can still run.”

“But you’re not running,” said Alastor. He trailed a hooked finger up your chest and underneath your cravat, pulling your head forward, his voice turning singsong. “You don’t want to run.”

It was true- you didn’t want to run. You wanted to lapse into something more carnal, pull him to the ground with you, but that wasn’t entirely the drug.

You did try to pull away then, but even his light touch felt inexorable. Alastor’s smile shifted, becoming less the surface level curve his face usually wore and more an expression of intense interest. You could feel the drug’s effects intensifying, your perceptions warping in a not entirely unpleasant way as Alastor pulled you to him. Heat in your face, heat in your loins. “Try to run,” he spoke into your ear, the touch of his breath on your skin making your hair stand on end. “Try to escape me.”

You did, some part of your mind still capable of resisting, and you twisted from his grasp, making it a few steps before he was on you again, this time pushing you to the ground.

You gasped into the dirt, your vision swimming.

“Would you like me to take notes?” Alastor asked, pinning you to the ground with one hand between your shoulderblades, the weight of his palm unnaturally heavy. “About how docile you are under the influence of this, how malleable?” He leaned in close, face beside yours. “How you become perfect, vulnerable prey?”

You moved without thinking, turning your head to kiss him. For a few seconds he returned the kiss, tongue sweeping against yours, before his body tensed and he recoiled from you. You rolled to your side, watching confused as he stumbled back, scraping his tongue with his hand.

“Fuck,” hissed Alastor, and it occurred to you the maybe he’d gotten a secondary dose of the drug from your mouth.

“It’s not so bad,” you called to him.

“It’s all very well you saying that,” said Alastor, a little archly, his smile prim. “You volunteered to take this stuff.”

“And you got a fraction of what I did,” you said, keeping your tone coaxing. “We’ll both be fine.”

You crawled over to him, laying your head against his knee, and watched his face, the way his pupils dilated, ever so slightly, antlers larger than they had been a moment before.

“You’ve poisoned me,” he grumbled, but didn’t stop you as you climbed into his lap, or as you leaned in to kiss him again. His body gave a small tremor as your lips touched, and you looped your hands around his shoulders, kissing his cheek, his jaw, your skin feeling like white light where it touched his. “A good showing again, my double,” he said, his smile almost feral against your neck.

“I didn’t poison you on purpose.”

“You would say that,” said Alastor.

He pushed you from his lap and onto the soft ground of the faux bayou, on your hands and knees.

“See what you’ve done to me?” He pressed his hard cock against the back of your thigh, hot through the fabric, and you whimpered, rolling your hips back against him. With a quick and trembling hand he unhooked your suspenders, pulling down trousers and underwear, freeing his own cock with a susurrus of fabric and pushing himself between your thighs.

“Fuck.” You bit your lip, feeling the heat of him, the swell of him, the wetness at his tip as he found friction between your inner thighs. The drugs made his touch feel like love, made your cunt ache and your own cock further stiffen and weep. He pushed your shoulders down and you cried out into the dirt, arching your back as he reached around to grasp you.

“Still, can’t say I object too vehemently,” said Alastor, hand curling perfectly around your cock, pumping in time with his own thrusts. “It’s not so different to masturbation, after all.”

You groaned at the dual sensation, Alastor’s hand firm but steady round your shaft, and the heat of his cock as he fucked between your thighs. “Inside me.” You raised your face from the dirt to speak. “Alastor. Inside me, please.”

Alastor gave a thoughtful hum, but backed off just enough to let you angle and open yourself for him. With the similarity in your stature, it was easily done, and Alastor held himself still as you lined your entrance with his tip, and pushed back onto him. Your senses still heightened by the drugs, the feeling of him was exquisite, every inch of him a heady burn as he filled your cunt.

“That is-” he made a noise in his throat, one of unmistakable pleasure. “That is quite a convenient bit of anatomy, darling.”

That simple utterance was enough to bring a flush to your face, no matter that the man was already buried to the hilt in you. Darling. He had called you darling.

The whole week you had known him, he had called you his pretender, his impostor, his double and on a handful of occasions dear, in the same way that a doting grandparent might call a child, but darling was a different name entirely. Darling hit different when he was balls deep, antlers growing, palm curled around your cock and about to fuck you. Some of it was bound to be your altered mental state, of course, but not entirely. Did he care for you? Did you care for him in the same way? You whimpered, soft animal noises as he began to move inside you.

Perhaps sensing your emotional state, or perhaps from sentiment on his own part, Alastor’s movement was slow, each thrust a burning stretch on your cunt that left you able to do little more than gasp into the dirt as he bottomed out, balls resting against your labia.

“Darling,” he breathed into your shoulder at one such nadir, and the amused exhalation he gave afterwards told you that he could tell exactly the effect that word had on you. With a startle you realized that he had become bigger than he was, not just his cock but the entirety of his body, his torso longer, his arms longer, even his fingers curled around your cock. “You asked for this, remember that.”

“Darling,” you returned, heart in your throat, hoping that he could feel what you felt, and his response was a deep, animal rumble, from inside his inhuman chest as he hunched around your smaller body. It was only one word, one term of endearment, but perhaps it was enough. He fucked you then, not with abandon but control, the control of a man used to inflicting sensation in an exacting and precise manner. Each thrust felt like a descent into madness, bringing tears to your eyes, making your hips quiver as you tried to move against him, but Alastor held your waist with one clawed hand. You came more quickly than you wanted, spilling onto his fingers and the dirt beneath you, and he fucked you through it, the stretch of him enough to make you twitch all by itself.

“Should I finish inside you?” he asked, a tight, trembling edge to his voice, and you realized that his usual playful repartee had been missing all the time he had been fucking you, that this whole time he had been hanging on for sheer life, holding himself from his own orgasm.

“Please,” you whimpered into the dirt, and your suspicions here confirmed as you felt the first hot pulse of his cum inside you almost immediately, a noise from him very similar to the one you had been making, something between an animal cry and the moan of a poorly soldered capacitor.

You felt Alastor collapse against your back, face buried in your neck. He gave a soft gasp, a barely audible fuck, and you pressed yourself against him as he emptied himself into you, pulse after pulse, until his body was the normal size again and his cum ran in thick rivulets down your thighs.

The notification pinged in Vox’s peripheral vision as he was halfway through the quarterly board meeting- new camera feeds now online- and the thought of it made his mouth go dry. He didn’t have much to do here other than closing remarks, and Voxtek’s CTO was deep into explaining some shit that Vox already knew, so what was the harm in it? Just a little peek. To check the system was working. He’d probably just see Alastor reading a book or some archaic fuckin’ thing.

Valentino never attended these things. Velvette did, but rarely, her face stuck in her phone until a particular item on the agenda caught her interest.

The other two did their bit in their respective arenas, but really, Vox was the one holding it all together. The board didn't need him today though. Vox eyed Baxter wearily, watching his chief engineer go through a presentation he'd seen three times before. Really, why shouldn’t he check the camera feeds?

Making sure that none of the feed was displayed on his face, Vox switched to the first of the cameras, and catching a glimpse of movement, switched feeds to one of the cameras in the bayou.

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

Alastor hunched over his lookalike, both of them with pants around their knees. Going at it, Alastor's eyes like radio dials, his body elongating as the both of you moved together. Fuck. This shit was live. Vox stifled a groan, then glanced around the boardroom, hoping that no-one had caught his reaction.

Oh, fucking fuck. Vox drew in breath, trying to compose himself.

“Sir, are you okay?” Baxter stopped mid presentation, looking at Vox with an expression of concern.

“I, uh, need to make a call real quick,” he said, and the board gave him confused looks as he stood, picking up his laptop and holding it in front of him to hide the tent in his pants. Live radio demon fucking continued overlaid over the board’s stares, screen-in-screen. “Carry on as you were.”

His cock now too hard for him to walk away with any dignity whatsoever, Vox called on his magic to zap himself out of there and back to the relative privacy of his control room. “Fu-uck,” breathed Vox as he stumbled forward to the control panel, watching with wide-eyed disbelief as he broadcast the scene to the big screen, piping in the audio, the breathing and the whimpering as well as the wet visceral sounds of sex. “Oh, fuck yeah.” He licked his lips, hand at his fly, transfixed by the sight. “That's some good fucking shit.”

Lucifer had fulfilled his end of the bargain and then some. Val and Velvette would have questions as to why they were suddenly giving loads of free shit to Lucifer's daughter, but he could handle that.

Right now, Vox was going to sit down and watch the Radio Demon fuck himself. The board meeting could fucking wait.

#alastor x you #alastor x reader #alastor x y/n #vox x reader #vox #vox x alastor #hazbin x reader #antlerplay

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