#well. until the next update hopefully | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wososcripts · 4 months

Text

Face to Face (Part II)

Fridolina Rolfö x reader

Summary: you begin to recover with the help of several of your teammates... except a certain blonde.

A/N: another part! the entire fic is now written so hopefully I'll update more quickly :) also don't forget to read part one. as usual this is all fictional and in good fun!

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings ⚠️: angst and lots of it, medical description

"What the hell was that!" Zećira said, turning on her teammate once you were off the field. "You could've seriously hurt her with that messy shit!"

Zećira raised a hand to shove her teammate away, rage bubbling in her gut. You two had always been close at Chelsea when you played there, and you were in almost daily contact since you left. She was protective over you, you were her junior only by a year but you always came across so kind—it was difficult not to want to shield that from the tough world.

Magda stepped in, forcing Zećira away. But her stern eye was more for Rolfö, the one who had fouled you.

"That was dangerous, Frido. Really." Were all the words Magda had to share. But her eyes spoke volumes.

She too had played with you at Chelsea, and knew you to be a sweet, caring, hard working person. To see you hurt was tough to stomach. Especially when it was her national teammate, and your clubmate, responsible.

"Why did you hit her so hard? It's a friendly. She's your clubmate. Now she'll be out of Barcelona's line up for at least a few games."

That meant having to answer to Jona, and Alexia, both of whom would surely not be holding her in their good graces right now. Rolfö didn't even want to think of the state of her phone.

"I didn't mean to…I'm sorry." Rolfö mumbled, not sure what to say. Even she was shocked by her actions, and what had followed. The reality of it was beginning to sink in, how hard you'd gone down, the fact that you had to be practically carried off of the field, that you had some kind of concussion all because of her. What the hell had she been thinking?

Clearly, she hadn't.

Zećira scoffed at her apology and wandered off back to the box, leaving Magda to deal with a now glossy eyed Frido.

"Hey!" Another voice called.

It was Alexandra Popp, who was walking over with a stern look on her face. She made eye contact with Magda and nodded, making it clear there were going to be no fights between them. Popp was good at keeping her head.

She seemed to have none of the grace for Rolfö, though, who she turned to next. Instead she gave the Swedish player a harsh look, her mouth set in a straight line.

"I hope you know you're lucky to not have been carded for that. That was completely unnecessary, and you've hurt a great person because you couldn't clean your game up. So stay the hell away from my players, okay?"

Popp didn't give her the chance to reply, turning around and stalking back to the bench to talk with the coach about who would be subbed in for you.

"It hurts," you whimpered to Laura. She had raced to the med bay the second the match was over. Germany had won, but it hardly mattered. Your head was killing you, tears streaming from your eyes. Even with the dim lights the pain was intense. Every noise, every movement, hurt. They were taking you to get scans as soon as the ambulance arrived.

Laura rubbed your skin soothingly, terrified by how much pain you seemed to be in. The doctors had told her they couldn't give you any medication until they got to the hospital and found out how bad it was.

She spotted Popp and Sara at the door, then Zećira as well. She shook her head.

"I'm going to go tell Sara and Zećira how you're doing, okay?" She whispered as softly as she could, and you gave her a thumbs up.

Laura slipped outside, keeping her eye on you through the door's window.

"How bad is it?" Zećira asked first.

"They don't know. We're waiting for the ambulance to take her for scans."

Popp rubbed her temples, clearly distressed.

"Have they given her anything for the pain?"

Sara peeked in and saw you curled into a ball on the medical bed.

"Not yet, not until we get the scans—listen I've got to get back in there…"

The girls nodded and Laura opened the door, assuring them she would pass on their well wishes.

Still in the locker room, Frido opened her phone and saw that indeed, a few of her Barça teammates had clearly been watching the game. Firstly there was a link to what must've been a video of the tackle from Mapí followed by a series of question marks; then a long message from Ingrid saying that she didn't know what was going on with her, or with the thing you two had (or didn't have), but that she was there if Frido needed to talk; and finally two missed calls from Alexia, who would much rather scold her over the phone.

She couldn't call back now, not outside the quiet of her room where nobody was likely to interrupt. She knew the voice Alexia would use—she'd never been on the receiving end of it and never wanted to be. Once Alexia scolded her, Frido knew the reality of the situation would settle on her.

So she clicked on the link that Mapí had sent instead, curious how bad the incident looked from the camera's point of view. She hardly remembered it, it was a split second, resentment-fueled decision mixed with a tactical one—when you were anywhere near the goal like that the chances of you scoring were high. Then there was your surprised yelp, and the feeling of skin hitting skin, and Frido had popped back up.

The video started from a wide angle, in which you were barely visible in the corner. But she saw you get around a defender, then start dribbling down the pitch. And she saw her own approach, the way she cut across the field, racing. Magda was there too, behind her. She saw Zećira eye you, prepping for your shot. And then—slam. It looked like it hurt even on video. She'd slid her foot under your left leg, causing you to lose balance as her body collided with yours. Frido took the ball and passed it to Amanda, running off in the opposite direction as you went down.

The video switched to a closer angle of the collision where she could see how you fell first on your hip, then your shoulder, then she saw your head bounce harshly off the ground. There was no audio, but the way your head bounced from the pitch made Frido a little nauseous. The camera remained on you as you laid there, not moving. The game continued as you lay there, still. Eventually someone kicked the ball out of play, Freigang probably. One of your closest friends on your national team. Suddenly Zećira appeared by your side, asking if you were okay. Your eyes were scrunched up, and she could see you trying to breathe through the nausea. Zećira lightly cradled your head with her gloves, the contrast almost comical. You gave a weak thumbs up, not moving otherwise.

The announcer, who had been keeping an eye on the ball until now, shifted his attention to you. And with a pretty harsh tackle there from Rolfö, she seems to be hurt… yep there are the medics. We're hearing maybe a head injury, that's never good. And as a Barcelona starter that means she'll likely be out of the lineup for a few weeks depending on how bad this is. A shame, really. Should that have been a yellow? Clearly Freigang thinks so…

Frido closed the video, feeling sick. She hadn't realized how long you'd been out. The panic in Zećira's eyes was clear in that video, and Frido felt some of it reverberate in her chest even now. The medics were always extra concerned when someone passed out cold. That meant serious impact.

She didn't answer Mapí's text, or Ingrid’s. Mostly she wanted to see if you were okay—but she didn't have any idea where you were. In the medic room? The hospital? And who could she ask?

"Hey,"

Unexpectedly, Pernille sat down next to her. She must be there for Magda, Frido figured, but she hadn't seen her earlier in the stands.

"Hi, Pernille. Where's Magda?"

"I'm not sure. A few of them went down to the med bay… she might be there."

Pernille stayed silent for a beat, studying Frido.

"Is there a reason you aren't down there?"

"I'm probably the last person she wants to see right now."

Pernille grabbed Frido’s hand, squeezing it. Before she could offer words of advice however, Magda walked in.

"Hi, love," she leaned down to give Pernille a kiss.

"Frido." She said curtly.

Pernille looked to her girlfriend, then back at Frido.

"Come on Magda, it was an accident."

Magda crossed her arms, still upset.

"I'm sorry." Frido mumbled.

"You need to direct that apology somewhere else."

The three of them stood quietly, Frido refusing to look up from her shoes. Pernille squeezed Madga's hand giving her a look.

Magda let out a sigh, putting a hand on Frido’s shoulder. She pulled the blonde woman up and into a firm hug, not wanting her sternness to hurt Frido.

"Go get cleaned up. The bus leaves in half an hour."

Frido waited until she was back in her hotel room to call Alexia. Stina, her typical roommate, was out for dinner with a friend. Frido knew she would rather be staying in and relaxing after the strenuous travel and match they had had today, but Stina was considerate enough to give her privacy.

Clicking on Alexia’s contact, noting the two missed calls from earlier, was the most nerve wracking thing she had done all day.

"Hi," Frido mumbled into the phone as Alexia picked up.

Part of her was hoping to get a voice-mail, but to no avail.

"Hi."

The silence stretched.

"How are things?"

Frido nearly laughed.

"Pretty shit, I'd say."

Another pause of silence.

"Did you go and check on her?"

"No. No, I haven't. Freigang and Popp are up there with her now. I'm…" Frido cleared her throat. "I think she needs her rest, mostly."

Alexia stayed quiet on the other edit of the line.

"What do you want me to say, Alexia?"

"I don't need you to say anything to me, but I'm sure there's apologies you owe someone else."

Frido didn't reply. She couldn't admit how much she had hurt you. Not now.

"You already know it was messy, and unnecessary. I saw Zećira yelling at you on the field—and to be clear if that had been in a game I was playing in, I'd have done the same. I just don't understand it. I guess I want you to explain it to me. That's what I want from you."

"I made a bad decision. In a split second. That's it."

"You aren't that aggressive when you play. You don't throw tackles in like that, you're tactical. That was not tactical—you could've easily gotten a yellow."

"Alexia, don't you think I already know I could've been carded?"

"And yet you still tackled her." Alexia sighed. "Jona will want to talk to you too, once you're back. We all love you, Frido, and we care about you. Whatever is going on, you can talk to someone about it."

"Thanks… but I'm fine, really."

"All right, then I'll let you go." Frido moved to hang up before she heard the Spanish woman's voice again, "and be prepared to face Patri when you get back, you know how protective she gets."

Frido sighed. She knew Alexia was joking with her a bit, trying to lighten the mood at the end of the call, but it was true. She knew everyone on the team would hold just a bit of anger for her and that made her stomach churn.

“Sí, Alexia.”

Once the phone had been hung up the room felt stiflingly quiet. Now she wanted Stina, or someone, to fill the space. Usually Frido wasn’t one who needed other people’s company to feel secure, but right now she craved it.

“The initial scans are clear. That means no bleeding,” Laura said into her phone. She was speaking as slowly and clearly as she could. “She’s asleep right now, they’ve got her on pain medication… No, I don’t know when she’ll wake up. Okay, yes I’ll stay here with her until you arrive, Alexia, of course.”

Laura rubbed her forehead, letting out the breath she didn’t realize she was holding. She slumped into her chair and looked at you, suddenly unable to keep the tears from streaming down her face. It had been such a terrible day, seeing you in that amount of pain. Fielding calls from your mother (who was coming to visit in the morning), the other German teammates, and the Barcelona girls was exhausting. She had barely had any time to process things herself.

She just wanted you to be okay, no matter what. And she wasn’t sure she would ever forgive Fridolina for this. It was a bad habit, grudge holding, but this felt warranted.

The sound of your breathing was accompanied by the beeping of the machines you were hooked up to. A nurse was supposed to come in every two hours and wake you up and ask you a few questions: your name, what happened, things like that. Apparently it was so they could tell if there was brain damage. The thought terrified Laura.

She had been there when you got a concussion on the U16 team. It wasn’t as bad as this, at least in her memory, but your parents had been the ones dealing with it so she wasn’t completely sure. You had been out for a few weeks, and she remembered that the doctors had told you to be careful of that spot in the future. Multiple concussions compounded on each other, apparently.

“Hey,” a soft voice called from the doorway. It was Zećira. She had her hair down around her shoulders and was dressed in a hoodie and some sweatpants. “I brought some stuff for you, I figured you probably hadn’t had a moment’s rest all day.”

Laura stood, shocked by the kindness of someone she barely knew. Zećira had always been polite when they met on the field, and she was a damn good goalie, but Laura was pretty sure they had never even had a conversation.

“Don’t worry, it’s not Swedish gear. Popp gave me some of your clothes, so they should fit.”

It was only then that Laura realized she was still in her kit from earlier. The dried sweat on her skin started to itch as she became aware of her unclean state. She must smell awful too.

“You can shower in the bathroom, I’m sure nobody will care. I’ll watch over her while you do.”

Laura nodded, taking the clothes from Zećira and slipping away. She muttered a soft thank you on her way, looking back at your sleeping form once more.

#fridolina rolfo x reader #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso fanfics #my writing #fridolina rolfö #barca femini x reader #woso

501 notes · View notes

ohcorny · 6 months

Text

so! it's been a year since i put never satisfied on hiatus, and 9 years since i started posting it, and rather than make you read everything if all you want to know is "when's it coming back?" the answer is still: don't know! but the answer has also shifted closer to "it isn't" the longer i've spent on break, and i think it's worth being up front about that.

i talked about it a little here a few weeks ago, but the long and short of it is that between taking on better paying work, writing better stories, and looking back at what i'd already done for never satisfied... i just don't think i want to continue it? the year off has been incredibly good for my mental health, and i can't see myself wanting to go back after the two-three years still ahead of me on my current project. that's not to say i never want to return to the characters or the concept, but if i did, i imagine it would be with something completely new, in a different form. after all, i started this comic when i was 21 years old, a lesbian, and a sophomore in college. i am now just shy of 30, a bi man, and overall a completely different person than i was, back when i was writing without a plan and putting all of my insecurities into the comic--insecurities i don't identify with anymore. lord i'm closer to rothart's age than i am to lucy's. hate that

anyway. you have all been extraordinarily kind for following never satisfied for as long as you have, for supporting it as much as you have, and being as patient as you have. whatever form never satisfied takes in the future (god willing, with a more cohesive story structure and A PLAN FOR THE ENDING, WHICH BY THE WAY I NEVER, EVER HAD) i hope to see you there!

in the meantime, as an update on where i'm at with the thing that made me stop working on NS: i finished it! all the pages for Hunger's Bite (if you remember it with a different title: no you don't) have been turned in and now it's just revisions and covers and then........ waiting a year until it can come out. because that's how it is in traditionally published graphic novels! nothing releases for a full year after you finished it! and you're even getting it earlier than was originally planned, because i'm a creature and finished it like three months ahead of schedule. i've also already started thumbnailing the sequel book which i can't talk about whatsoever and will now be working on that for the next two years and then HOPEFULLY the first book will have done well enough that i can sell a third! so you better buy it when it comes out next february!!!!!!

to ease you all into it, i wanted to do a little crossover to introduce the main characters. we have emery, whose design is fully and unintentionally just Seiji Again down to his color palette (but seiji would bully him if they met. like so hard. he's a wimp). then we have neeta, a girl who dreams of travel and cares deeply about worker's rights, and wick, a vampire agent investigating the mysterious and sinister new owner of the 1910s ocean liner emery and neeta call home. he's also gay. but sorry lucy, you aren't his type. you're not mean enough.

the best place to keep up with me these days is probably here, as this first book gets closer to release, i will probably be posting about it a lot. and i will certainly post about it here when there's an official release date and cover reveal! i hope you'll go read it. i really think if you liked never satisfied and its themes, you'll like hunger's bite!

thank you again for reading!!

#corndraws #hunger's bite #never satisfied

560 notes · View notes

muwapsturniolo · 6 months

Text

✯CYBER SEX 2✯

THEE MUWAPGUCCI COLLAB

IN WHICH… Matt and Chris Sturniolo are just two inexperienced losers.

Trust me when I meet him, I'm fucking him on sight

Warnings: NSFW CONTENT AHEAD! NO ACTUAL SMUT BUT MENTION OF PORNOGRAPHIC MATERIAL AND BODY PARTS.

MPT 1, GPT1, GPT2

"Next...Next...Nex-Oh he's cute!" Y/n gives Mika a dirty look. The two girls were currently in Y/n's apartment, going through the submissions for the contest. The contest ended two days ago and the girl had gotten around 1k submissions. She had already gone through 10 submissions alone, now she has her friend with her and they are trying to go through the rest together.

Mika didn't want to go through the submissions with her, but with the promise of free food and one hundred dollars, Mika caved.

"What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Because you know he's ugly." She points to her laptop which has a picture of a guy. "Come on he's not that bad! Ok let's look at his entry form!" Mika snatches the laptop and starts reading things out. everything about him seems normal until they get to his sexual interests.

"Ok, so it looks like he enjoys bondage, roleplay, sla- WHAT THE FUCK!" Y/n looks at Mika with crossed arms and a raised brow.

"He's into weird shit isn't he?"

"What the hell is a slave kink?! Like does he want you to call him Massa and tell you to take his conservative dick?!" Y/n falls out in laughter at Mika's disturbing words. "Yeah immediate no! I'm deleting this submission, fuck that!" Mika does just as she said, and deletes the entry, closing the laptop right after.

"That's enough for today, let's go get something to eat." Y/n groans and shakes her head, "Mika come on! I have to get this done!"

"And we will! But you promised me food and after that slave shit, I need some food. Let's go to Randy's and get a burger or something!"

The two girls leave the apartment, making their way to Randy's. The diner wasn't that far from her apartment, with it being a college town and all it was easy to travel on foot.

They make it to the diner pretty quick and walk to their usual seat. As they are walking, Y/n gets a phone call from her mom. “Hold on, I have to take this.” She walks back towards the door, completely missing Mika accidentally bumping into someone, "oh shit my-Matt?" Matt smiles awkwardly seeing the girl from the library.

"H-Hey Mika, how are you?" He adjusts his glasses and his backpack, putting more of his weight on his right foot rather than his left. "I'm good! Hey, did you ever send that girl the picture? you never updated me and everyone else on it." He laughs shyly, rubbing his neck.

"I uh yeah I did…I actually sent a video." Mika claps excitedly.

“That’s great! What did she say?! Are you guys going out now!? Did you have sex!?” A few people give them weird looks making Matt’s cheeks burn a bright red. He gives the guests of the diner an apologetic smile before turning back to Mika, “I-umm. Y-yeah she liked it… and no we haven’t gone out yet but s-she did like it.”

He does his best to make his lie believable. It’s not like he could tell the girl that he submitted a video of him drunk and jerking off to a cam girl. She would probably call him a weird loser…or maybe even an incel.

“Well, at least she liked it! Hopefully, you get a girl soon!” She playfully nudges him making him laugh.

“Sorry, it was my mom asking me how school is going.” Y/n walks up attempting to put her phone back in her purse. Matt’s eyes widen seeing the girl approaching them. He feels his body run cold and he quickly looks down, “S-sorry Mika I-I have t-to go!” He rushes past the two, bumping shoulders with Y/n as he darts out of the diner.

"Well, he was weird." Y/n mumbles, eyeing the boy through the windows. She watches as he climbs into a sleek black car. Mika gently hits her arm, "Shut up! He's not weird he's just really shy. He's actually a really nice guy. He's supposed to go out with me and the girls soon." Mika explains as they sit down.

They order their food and it’s soon brought to them.

"What were you talking about with Matt anyway?" Mika finishes chewing before answering the question.

"Sasha had asked him randomly if he ever took a dick pick after Jordan sent her one-Wait Jordan sent her a dick pic? Even after he cheated on her?-Yeah and it was a shitty one too! Made up for nothing! Anyway, Matt said he never took one but he had the opportunity to send one to a girl. So we decided to help him, teach him the best way to take the best picture."

Y/n scrunches her face up, "Wait, you had to help him take a picture of his junk? Is he like a virgin or something?'' Mika shrugs and dips her fry into her shake.

"I'm pretty sure, I mean don't get me wrong, he's cute, but he's super shy and awkward. I'm surprised he even wanted to send a dick pic considering he seemed really interested in his studies." Y/n hums and plays around with her food, her mind stuck on the boy with glasses.

Y/n huffs for what seems like the thousandth time. She's been home for about two hours now since going out with Mika. Her time was spent still going through all the submissions. She found a few people she would choose so she wrote their names down before continuing.

"Why did I do this to myself?" She mutters as she fixes the blue light glasses on her face. She feels her mouth getting dry, so she exits her room to grab a glass of water. When she walks back, she sees her cat walking along the keyboard of her laptop.

“You’re so annoying,” she grumbles walking to her bed. She sets her cup down on her nightstand before moving the brown cat. She goes to close her laptop, wanting to deal with the entries tomorrow, but stops in her tracks seeing a familiar face on her screen.

“There’s no way.” She thinks to herself.

She snatches the laptop and stares at the entry infront of her.

There’s no way that’s him…Right?

She sits down on her bed, analyzing the picture. It looks just like the boy from the diner, glasses and all. Granted she wasn’t able to get a good look at him due to him rushing past her with his head down but she had to admit,

He was attractive.

He had a bit of a beard, not a burly one but one that enhanced his jawline. He had brown hair that looked as if he ran his fingers through it multiple times. His face was adorned by a pair of oval brown glasses, complimenting his facial features well. His eyes were a dull blue, looking as if he was tired when taking the picture.

If Mika’s claims are true with him being into his studies, it was most likely he was studying when taking the picture.

She opens up his application and begins to read his answers.

She finds herself smiling when she reads about his hobbies, finding it interesting that he’s majoring in film. She begins to wonder what his favorite movies are. She reads that he loves Lego sets and looks over to the unopened boxes of Legos on her desk.

Wanting to know more about him, she continues.

“Triplet? Jesus Christ his mom had her hands full.” Her curiosity is peaked and she grabs her phone and opens up Instagram.

She searches for his name and clicks on the first profile. Sure enough, it’s his account.

He only has 100 followers, most of them being family and the few people he met in school. She scrolls through his pictures and comes to the conclusion that he has a simple life.

Lots of pictures of him and his brothers, some of him and his parents, and some with a dog.

She throws her phone down and goes back to his form.

She gets to his sexual interests and to her surprise, she finds that he doesn’t have any, stating that he doesn’t know of his interests but is open to almost anything.

Most guys his age would know their kinks and what they prefer in bed by now.

“Maybe he only has had vanilla sex.” She looks at her cat, waiting for the animal to answer.

When the cat doesn’t answer, she looks back at the screen.

There’s no way he’s a virgin…Right? He watches her streams, he couldn’t be a virgin.

She wants to text Mika and tell her about Matt's entry, but she doesn’t want to put Matt’s business out there, especially if he’s as shy and closed off as Mika makes him out to be.

She reads the rest of his entry before getting to the first video.

She adjusts the way she’s sitting and takes a sip of water before pressing play.

“Take five,” she giggles hearing the annoyance in his voice.

She watches the video and is surprised to hear his words. Most of the entry videos have been people saying that the reason they should win is because they have money, or they will give her the best dick of her life. They were cocky and Y/n found that unattractive.

She didn’t grow up with a lot of money, so people flaunting it and spending it like crazy rubbed her in all the wrong ways.

Matt on the other end was a bit more soft spoken and actually treating her like she was human, admitting that none of the other contenders should be able to take her out due to her being too good for them. He also didn't flaunt his money, granted he was a college student so he was probably broke anyway but,

It was a change of pace that she loved.

She knew what she was getting into when becoming a cam girl, being treated like she was an object rather than a human. His words made her feel,

Good.

The video ends and her heart races when she scrolls down. She was expecting to see a picture of his dick, not a video that’s 10 minutes long.

The thumbnail is of Matt in bed, getting ready to pull his pants down.

She hesitates as she presses play.

The video starts with shuffling being heard before Matt’s body clumsily falls onto the bed.

She notices the only sources of light are purple LED's and a sunlamp casting a warm glow onto the bed.

She finds herself attracted to the setting, it was almost cinematic. The way the lights cast a spotlight on him, an aura of orange, yellow, and purple covering his body.

She watches his tattooed arm pull his laptop closer, noticing an old stream of hers being pulled up. He hooks his fingers into his sweats, before releasing his hard and aching cock.

Y/n’s mouth waters.

He seemed to be about a good 7 inches, having a mushroom top. It wasn’t that girthy, but she knew that it would feel mind-blowing, especially with the thick vein running up the side.

He presses play on the video and begins to jerk himself off, spitting on his own cock.

She feels that familiar ache in between her legs.

His moans and whimpers sound like music to Y/n.

“Fuck Y/n.” She clenches her legs hearing him moan her name, loving the way it rolls off his tongue, piercing her ears and making her slick worse.

She quickly pauses the video and grabs her cat, setting the animal outside of her room and closing the door. She rushes back over to her bed and grabs the vibrator from her nightstand, quickly stripping herself of her clothes.

Usually, she would do a bit of foreplay, but she couldn’t wait. She could feel the slick between her folds, the mound between her legs aching and pleading to be touched.

She lays back on the bed and presses play on the video, immediately pushing her vibrator in between her wet folds.

Her eyes roll back at the relief, letting out a deep sigh.

She looks back at her laptop and sees Matt’s head is thrown back, his hand working hard to chase his impending orgasm.

“F-fuck Matt!” She moans hearing him moan her name once again.

“P-please let me cum m-mommy, I’ll be a good boy!” His submissive pleas do something to Y/n, unlocking a part of her that she didn’t even know was there.

She never found herself interested in guys calling her mommy, thinking they had some type of mommy issues and wanting her to baby them. But for some reason, she loved hearing Matt call her mommy and beg.

She could tell that he was close by the way he sped up his hand and the way his chest moved up and down quickly. She’s close as well, the urge to “pee” only getting stronger as the vibrations go on.

“Fuck fuck fu-“ she watches as his head hangs low biting his lip, his stomach clenching as white ribbons spurt out, some landing on his chest and face.

She yelps and arches her back as she makes a mess on her sheets. She swipes the vibrator back and forth, prolonging the orgasm as her body shakes.

She closes her eyes and swallows harshly as she tries to catch her breath, turning the vibrator off and throwing it to the side.

She opens her eyes and stares at the ceiling her mind fuzzy and filled with images of her and Matt and what a night together would look like.

After a few moments she sits up and grabs her laptop, drafting and email.

Y/e/[email protected]: hello Matt, I wanted to email you personally instead of through Chaturbate! This email is letting you know that you are the winner of the competition 💕 If you would no longer like to participate and would like me to choose another winner, please respond to the email stating so. Otherwise, respond to this email with the days you are free, and where you would like to meet for our date.

Can’t wait to see you again, maybe this time you won’t be as shy and you will actually look at me 💕

Xoxo, Y/n

She sends the email and smiles to herself, standing up and throwing on her robe.

She opens the door and sees her cat looking at her, “sorry miss lady, momma had to handle business. Let’s get dinner started.”

She walks into the kitchen and begins cooking dinner, her mind still on Matt.

PT 2 BABYYYYYYY!!!! IM SO SORRY THAT IT'S SHORT BUT I COULDN'T THINK OF ANYTHING ELSE TO WRITE😭 MAKE SURE YOU READ MY POOKIE @guccifrog POSTS AND GET CAUGHT UP CUZ NEXT WEEK IS THE LAST PART OF THE COLLAB!!!

XOXO PEACHES🍑

TAGLIST 🍑

@bernardsgf @bernardsleftbootycheek @blahbel668 @mattfrfr @gdsvhtwa @sturniolo-aali @lily-loves-struniolos @kynda-avery @causeidontlikeagoldrush

@st7rnioioss @carolinalikesthings @mattslolita @suyqa @xxloveralways14 @pepsiimaxx @judespoision

@ivonchetooo1239 @imaslut4kehlani @that-general-simp @m4stermindd @itzdarling @gigisworldsstuff @adoreindie @braindead4l @pettydollie @chrissgirlsstuff @alexis007 @ratatioulle @yamamasjumpercables @luv4kozume @sturnioloslurps @kqyslyho3 @j3tblackt3ars @ilovestarz @lustfulslxt @soimightlikeoldmen69 @tastesousweet @slut4sebastiansallow @whicked-hazlatwhore @stasiesturn @loljackwasfat @nicksmainbitch @ninacutebee16 @mayhem-72 @sturniolosmind @breeloveschris @mattslolita @mattsivy @guccifrog @hysteria-things @mrssturnioloo @teenagetrash00 @koris_009 @patscorner @mayhem-72 @worldlxvlys @nickuniversity @luverboychris @thenickgirl @riasturns @imwetforyourmom @junnniiieee07 @realuvrrr @milasturniolo @fwskullz @hearts4tatemcrae @mattandchrismakemewett @chrissystur @canthelpit0 @strnilo @demistyles @junovrsmp4 @heartsforchrisandmatt @maryx2xx @vecnasnose0 @freshsturns @xxsturnxx @pettydollie @crimsoncorpse @sturnssmuts @sturniolovoid

500 notes · View notes

seraphinitegames · 2 months

Text

The Wayhaven Chronicles - Update 29/July/2024

Do you ever have one of those weeks where everything is unexpected?

Well, it was definitely one of those last week, lol!

I haven’t had access to my laptop since mid-week last week, which means all my reference, variable reference, plans and things are all inaccessible, as well as normal things like emails, etc.

But I always back-up Book Four on an SD card, which means luckily I still had that! So I’ve been able to work on the different unit scenes in what is becoming a seriously stonkingly beefy Chapter Three, just with some interesting notes to myself I need to go back and fill in.

Eg. "Oh, so close," Maaka jeers at his brother with a smile.

Tane glares at him [through what coloured eyes does he have?],

So that’s been an interesting way to write, hehe! :D But it at least means I can write even with my laptop out of commission for the moment!

I will have it again on Wednesday, but I won’t be diving in to fill in those moments quite then. Instead, I will be concentrating on polishing up and adding in anything from the readers for Chapter Two so that I can get the demo up on early access on Patreon hopefully for the weekend!

I know I’ve had 2 back I’d been waiting on, even without being able to access my emails, so hopefully the others will be back by Wednesday too! *fingers crossed*

Hope you all have an awesome week! Not long until the next update, so I'll talk to you all then <3

#the wayhaven chronicles #interactive fiction #unit bravo #twc detective #romance #vampires #update #twc book 4 #the wayhaven chronicles book 4 #unit alpha #choice of games #hosted games #dashingdon #twc book 4 demo

248 notes · View notes

clementinegreye · 6 months

Text

the sweetest sin of all

aaron hotchner x fem!bau!reader ||

summary: in the midst of investigating a serial killer who chooses victims based on the seven deadly sins, aaron hotchner finds himself entangled in more than just the case (inspired by hozier's new song 'too sweet'):

word count: 3.4k

warnings: heavy tension, hurt comfort, crossing professional boundaries and general talks of CM violence and murder (nothing graphic):

a/n: hi! i wrote this entire thing for a friend, but maybe you might enjoy it too! this is my first piece of writing on this new blog so if you like feel free to like, reblog or even just let me know! and hopefully if it goes well there'll be more soon!

a/n update: it went well, here's part two!)

From the dim lighting of the office it was almost impossible to tell the exact lateness of the night. His watch consistently ticking, remained a steady rhythm. He ran a hand across his face, his tie undone and lying, long discarded on his desk. The first few buttons of his shirt undone, unbuttoned and an almost vulnerable step away from his usual armour. Papers containing violence were spread haphazardly and with chaos across his desk. A nearly forgotten glass of strong neat whiskey sat in place of his usual bitter coffee.

His team had been on the case for nearly a week, and Hotch felt they were no closer to catching the Unsub. The whole team was feeling the pressure. The profile told him they were dealing with a moral enforcer, a highly organised, violent offender with a clear mission. It should have been easy for them but bodies seemed to be continuously appearing and everyone was feeling uneasy and frustrated.

He was drowning in the details of this case, the Unsub's pattern ever-present in his mind. He thought of the remaining sins - envy, wrath, and lust - and something burned deep within his chest. It was a dangerous game they played, one where the stakes were higher than any case he'd ever worked on.

Being head of the team he felt the responsibility more vehemently than the rest, and he was doing something he’d promised the team he wouldn’t. He was letting it get to him.

There’d been four victims so far, each killed to match one of the seven deadly sins. So far his victims had been; gluttony - an overzealous upscale restaurant critic who binged food that he slated publicly, greed - a high-profile stock broker with the inability to control his obsession with obtaining more of his client's money, sloth - a wealthy trust fund baby who squandered their university scholarship out of laziness and pride - a wealthy woman with a shopping addiction who frequented beauty salons and had an intense social media presence flaunting herself.

Each victim came from a different geographical area of the city and Garcia hadn’t been able to uncover any crossover between their lives where it might have been somewhere they could have met the Unsub. There were no leads and the team felt at a loss.

Knowing the Unsub was three victims away from the end of his mission, Hotch knew they were close to losing him if they didn’t catch a break soon. He’d sent the team home to get some sleep and told them to be ready bright and early the next day. Yet Hotch couldn't bring himself to leave the office, hoping the crime scene photos might uncover something he'd missed. He thought everyone had listened to his orders until he was drawn away from the graphic images in front of him by a gentle knock at the door.

"Come in." He croaked harshly, the hours of not speaking catching up to his vocal chords.

It was her. Of course, it was her.

She always had a way of pulling him from the edge, of grounding him when the world became too much. In the chaos and uncertainty of their work, she was his constant, his unwavering beacon of light. She was his solace, his calm in the storm, and in that moment, he allowed himself to get lost in her.

She was like honey, dripping out and pooling where flies could get stuck on the intoxication and drown. He could feel it, the danger she could be. If he’d been a man less controlled he could see how she could be his every downfall and triumph. In her, he saw a reflection of all his desires and fears. She was every strength and weakness. In the moment, he couldn't help but want to drown in the intoxicating allure of her, his deadly and dangerous, yet irresistibly sweet sin.

‘I’m heading home for the night…’ Her voice trailed off in a quiet hush to match the silence of the office.

The creases in his forehead from pouring over crime scenes and endless theories seemed to smooth out. He breathed out hours' worth of tension in a single breath, allowing the corners of his mouth to turn upwards so quickly that unless she’d been a profiler paying attention she might not have noticed. The way his body language shifted was subtle enough to the untrained eye, but not to her. He couldn’t conceal himself in his controlled, cold-edged front as well as he usually could when she was around.

"I gave those orders hours ago." He mused, leaning back in his chair, the breath of a sigh dying on his lips.

She gently shook her head, a soft laugh escaping her. "I thought you might be used to me defying your orders by now, Hotch. You should take your own advice, didn’t you promise to stop working so late," she replied, a glint in her eyes that held an irresistible challenge. Their playful banter was a welcome change from the dark seriousness that he’d been so consumed by moments ago.

She smiled, her eyes sparkling with mischief waiting for his retort.

"I didn’t promise anything." He huffed.

She didn’t wait for an invitation, she didn’t need to. Crossing the threshold of his office and making her way to the imposing desk of the Unit Chief.

She’d not seen her boss look so troubled by a case in a long time. Her gaze was drawn to him as his elbows leaned against the desk, his usually impeccable suit dishevelled. She noted the way the top buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing a hint of the man beneath the stoic FBI Unit Chief. It was a stark contrast to the man who was always put together, always in control. Yet, in that moment, he looked anything but. Not yet unravelled, but on the edge of it.

She moved further into the office, she was not someone who second-guessed her decisions. She walked with confidence, and perched herself on the edge of his desk, letting her legs dangle over the edge her black work trousers tight across her thighs. She rested her hand on the desk, dangerously close to her Hotch’s, mere centimetres.

His gaze shifted from the papers in front of him and followed the contours of her face, lingering a moment too long on her lips. He swallowed hard, his mind flickering with thoughts he'd held at bay for far too long. But he was Unit Chief, and professionalism might as well have been his middle name. He lightly shook his head, feeling the back of his eyes burn from the focus he’d had all day.

Hotch wasn’t one to open up, he was always controlled but around her, there was a tug at the stitches of his personality.

‘I have a bad feeling about this case.’ He hummed, the night breeze catching against the window. He could smell her perfume, mixing with the scent of burnt coffee and paper. He dare not think about it too long.

He reached across his desk and grabbed his near-forgotten whiskey, downing it in one drag. He bent towards where her legs were hanging over his desk, motioning for her to lift them. She drew them up towards her chest and he opened the drawer beneath her pulling an expensive-looking bottle from it and refilling the glass, this time handing it to her. Their fingers grazed slightly with the exchange. His warm, hers icy cold - meeting to form the perfect temperature.

‘We have no leads. I always trust the profile, but this case… We’ve got nothing.’ His eyes watched her as she swirled the liquid around the glass, her eyes watching it splash against the sides. He sighed in defeat, rubbing his eyes with both of his hands before leaning his head back, a deep exhale exiting his thin lips.

‘We’ll get him.’ She said confidently, something shifted in her tone. It was like a dagger's sharp edge, certainty dripping off it like blood. He almost believed her, but she could see the already dim light dissipating from his dark eyes. She felt sympathy pooling in the tips of her fingers. If she didn’t hadn’t been holding their shared glass she might have reached out and touched him so that it could bleed from her into him, so that he would feel less alone.

She leaned back slightly, her eyes searching his. It was unclear what she was searching for in them. He couldn’t read her entirely, even with all his years of profiling. When she smiled, he felt his heart catch in his throat. It was like looking directly at the sun. Burning and bright hot.

‘You should follow your own orders… And for once so should I. Go home. Get some rest.’ She downed the liquid with a swift tip of her head. Hotch watched the curve of her neck as she moved and the way she licked her lips catching a fallen drop of liquor. She laid the glass down on the desk, allowing her hand to brush over his. His skin crackled with electricity.

She moved with grace as she climbed down from his desk. That one moment shared more intimate than she’d expected it to feel, with their proximity, the lateness of the hour and the unusually undone Aaron sitting at his desk.

His eyes followed her every movement, skin stinging as if he’d been burned. She was halfway to the door before he heard himself call out to her. It almost didn’t sound like his own voice.

‘Wait. Don’t go yet. Come here.’ His voice was firm like it always was, but there was a depth to it that she hadn’t heard before. One she’d always longed for. His eyes glinted with dark hues as he watched her turn from the door. He almost breathed out in relief.

She had an unreadable expression. One that set the blood in his veins on fire. She lowered her head, and with it, her eyes darkened. He stood from his desk, making his way over to her with steps that felt dreamlike. Their eyes met with an energy never shared before and once in front of her he reached out, gently tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear so that he had an unobscured view of her whole face. The same face that had the power to completely undo him.

Her eyes widened slightly as if surprised by his gentle touch, but at the same time, there was a knowing in them as if she’d been waiting for it all along. She remained still, and his heart pounded in his chest as he looked into his eyes, an unspoken conversation passing between them. It felt like any words would have made the moment less intimate.

His hand lingered against her cheek, the warmth radiating from his touch was a stark contrast to the cold, sterile environment of his office. Her skin felt like it was burning under him. The silence between them was palpable, filled with the yet unspoken words and emotions that threatened to bubble to the surface. Hotch, usually so controlled in his feelings suddenly felt so unsteady. His heart beat suspiciously with the feeling that perhaps he’d crossed a line.

‘How do you know?’ He whispered, eyes scanning hers as if he were a detective trying to uncover the evidence that gave her certainty. In the light of the office, she looked like she’d been hand carved, art that he’d been lucky enough to be in the presence of. He traced his thumb over her lips, eyes heavy with a mixture of desire and something else she couldn't quite place. It was a dangerous gesture, one that could endanger his whole career.

'I trust you, and that’s all I need to know that we’ll get him.' she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, eyes glazed with a devotion that almost made him groan. The conviction of her words pierced his wavering confidence. He’d gone from feeling almost hopeless to buzzing with determination.

He let his hand fall away from her face, but the warmth lingered, an almost promise that what she’d been sure she’d felt moments ago had indeed been real. Reality swarmed his brain, aware of the situation he’d almost found himself in. He straightened up, posture contrasting his relatively dishevelled exterior.

"You’re right, you should follow my orders. Go home, get some rest. I told the team we’d start fresh in the morning," he instructed, a softness in his voice that was rarely displayed. But she didn’t move, and he didn’t either.

He watched her eyes for any sign of discomfort, the tension in the room was palpable, an electrifying current that Hotch didn’t dare to break. Silence blanketed them, only broken by the ticking of his watch. It was a solitary reminder of the passing time, yet the urgency of their case had fallen to the back of his mind.

‘Close the door.’ She instructed, using the same authority that Hotch usually spoke with. The change in dynamic almost made him falter, but with a small smirk, he moved towards the door. He’d been aware of the power imbalance he held in his position but with the tone of her voice, there was a subtle shift in the air between them. She moved back towards his desk with certainty. Moving his name tag so she could perch to face the dark space of the office.

Their eyes met across the room. She tilted her head to the side, examining his body language. As he locked the door behind him, the air seemed to constrict around them, the room becoming a world of its own where only they existed. The only sound in the room was the soft click of the lock and their breathing. It echoed throughout the office, bouncing off the walls and settling into their bones. The tension escalated, but it was different now, charged with an anticipation that neither of them could ignore.

He might have been unit chief, but right here, right now, she was in charge. The line between professional and personal blurred dangerously as their eyes locked, a promise of something more hanging in the balance. The air was charged now, they were poised, daring each other to make the first move. They both knew that they were on the precipice of something dangerous, something that could have dire consequences professionally.

Yet, the pull was too strong to ignore, and for the first time, Hotch allowed himself to teeter on the edge, his resolve tested by the powerful undercurrent of desire that crackled between them. Tonight, they were not just colleagues, they were two individuals drawn together by an irresistible force. In the room, the undeniable chemistry that had been simmering under the surface for far too long had nowhere to hide.

On the desk, she rested each hand palm down to the side of her thighs and opened her legs wider to create space for his body to fit. She moved her head in a motion for him to step forward. Hotch couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, pupils were blown wide from more than just the darkness of the room. How long had he craved something so forbidden, how long had he denied himself the idea that this could ever happen?

As he moved closer to her, he couldn't help but think about the deadly sin of lust, a strong passion or longing that was deemed sinful. Here he was, teetering on the edge of crossing professional boundaries, something he’d never done. The balance of energy in the room was no longer solely from the stress of the case, it was about them - about her. He could have tried to argue that it was, but no jury in the state would believe him. If this were a trial, he was about to be found guilty.

The Unsub's deadly pattern echoed in his mind - the three sins he’d yet to kill for; envy, jealousy over another's life or possessions, wrath, a violent anger driven by hatred, and finally, lust, a powerful desire that can become all-consuming, much like the craving he was experiencing in that very moment. Looking upon her he felt envious of anyone who had ever been allowed to touch her, he felt wrath for anyone who had ever wronged or hurt her, and most of all he felt lust. He definitely felt lust, his desire for her taking over all his senses.

Was he caught between duty and desire? No, he had no doubt in his mind. The sheer intensity of her shared gaze and the way she was beckoning him forward smashed the boundaries of their relationship. He’d never seen her in this light, never dared to allow himself to think of her like this. But now she was in front of him how could he ever deny himself something so sweet?

Hotch had always been a man of control, a man who kept his emotions in check. But in this room, with the charged atmosphere heavy between them, he felt his resolve wavering. He was caught in the powerful current of the desire for her that he’d managed to keep at bay. He didn’t want to be in control anymore.

He closed the distance between them, fitting himself between her legs, his hands landing on her hips as he looked down at her, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

She brought one hand off the desk to hold the waistband of his suit trousers, tugging lightly.

“Are you finally going to kiss me, Agent Hotchner?” She asked, voice dripping with honey. Sweetness laced with danger that hit him right in the chest like a bullet.

She was an intoxicating mix of all seven, a deadly sin in her own right. She was his lust, his unending desire. She was his gluttony, the one he wanted to consume endlessly. She was his greed, the one he wanted all for himself. She was his sloth, his reason for inertia. She was his wrath, the one who could ignite a fire in him like no other. She was his envy, the one he admired and coveted. And she was his pride, the one who made him feel like he was on top of the world.

‘You will be the ruin of me.’ He breathed, his eyes almost black. He looked down at her taking in the sight of her flushed cheeks and the way her eyes sparkled with a mixture of mischief and satisfaction. He was entirely wrapped around her finger. Tonight, he decided, he would willingly drown in this sweet sin, consequences be damned.

‘That is entirely my intention.’ She chuckled and he groaned, a guttural sound that felt foreign to him.

"Only if you promise not to tell the team," he murmured, a playful undertone to his voice.

As he leaned down to capture her lips with his, he knew without a doubt that this was a deadly sin he was willing to commit. It was both sweet and intense, a perfect reflection of their now complicated relationship.

Her lips tasted of the whiskey they'd shared, sweet with a hint of burn that left him wanting more. She tasted like a curse, sickeningly sweet as if to cause him decay. He deepened the kiss, pulling her impossibly closer. He was standing on the cliff of the unknown, and he was more than willing to jump and fall headfirst.

As he pulled away, he couldn't help but study her face. He’d come face to face with endless serial killers, and been in the presence of pure evil. But he’d never been so close to something so dangerous. She was a temptation he couldn't resist. Sweeter than any apple in the Garden of Eden. He traced the contours of her face with his fingers, his gaze never leaving hers.

He could still taste her on the back of his tongue, sugar and shared whiskey burning. He’d never been so certain that he’d been willing to trade his control for the intoxicating sweetness that was her. She was a forbidden fruit that was too alluring to resist, and Aaron Hotchner had no more resistance left in him. Not now he’d tasted something so delicious.

After all, wasn't life about balancing the deadly sins and virtues? Tonight, he chose to sin.

(you can now read part two here!)

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #aaron hotchner x you #criminal minds fic #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #criminal minds hotch

520 notes · View notes

aaagustd · 8 days

Text

freaky friday | myg (m)

title: freaky friday pairing: min yoongi x f!reader genre/rating: smut, horror, f*ckbuddies, friday the 13th au; 18+ summary: they were right to be afraid. wc: 2.6k warnings: m*rder, mild description of d*ad bodies, blood, weapon play, outdoor s*x, mentions alcohol, slight power play dynamics, ch*king, multiple org*sms, squirting, overstimulation, dirty talk, a bit of dark humor, i think that's all...will update later. can be triggering so please proceed with caution. release date: september 13th, 2024

note: hi! i'm back lol. had some downtime so I whipped this up. slightly edited but this was just a quick drabble i wrote. mask credit.

September 13th, 2024

Snap.

You stop in your tracks so another twig doesn’t crack beneath your feet. The forest becomes eerily quiet as you await your fate. After seconds of standing somewhere within the forest surrounding Camp Crystal Lake, you unclench your fists and cautiously tiptoe to the nearest tree.

Relief washes over you but doesn’t erase the fear pumping through your veins. You’re not safe until you reach the lake so there’s no time to celebrate a victory this small.

“Clap!”

Fuck.

You hear one of the seekers call out in the distance, and abiding by the rules, you clap your hands once to pinpoint your location. The caller is far from your area, but that doesn’t mean another isn’t nearby.

You brace yourself as you hear the sticks being crushed by someone’s footsteps behind the tree that shields you and you brace yourself for the jump scare that comes with being discovered.

Holding your breath, you close your eyes and wait—but the moment never arrives. Sighing, you turn slowly to scope out your surroundings.

The moon provides enough light to see what’s in front of you, but the night is gloomy and does an excellent job of concealing you in the darkness.

Camp Crystal Lake has always been a popular summer camp location. You and your friends have run through these woods more times than you can count. Now as counselors, you still haven’t grown up entirely.

This place brings out the kid in you, but like quite a few attractions, it comes with a dark history.

The story of the boy who drowned in the lake has always been the camp’s employees' favorite spooky bedtime story. It’s a way to get the kids to bed early so that the adults can have some fun. Although it’s just a scary story, you can’t help but feel like there’s some truth to it.

You can never really shake the feeling of being watched, but you won’t let your paranoia ruin your last night of fun. Camp ends tomorrow, and then it’s back to long nights of studying for you. Hopefully, you can snag a victory this time around and have some bragging rights for next time.

After looking in every direction twice, you take the first step. Looking around you again, you don’t see or hear any sign of movement. So, you make a run for it.

You don’t think you’ve ever run so fast. You cover over half the distance within a minute. You nearly slip and burst your ass when the ground becomes steeper.

“Better slow down,” you tell yourself.

You wouldn’t want to slide right into the lake. You’d be covered in mud by the time you climb out.

Before you continue, you look around to make sure you haven’t been spotted, and this time—you aren’t so lucky.

“Oh, shit.”

Your heart drops when you see the figure standing no more than 15 to 20 feet away from you. You’re frozen because you know you’ve been caught, but what you can’t determine is by who.

After they’ve moved closer, you can make out the white mask and clothing.

It’s Yoongi.

None of you know him too well. This is his first summer working here. You’ve heard stories about him but to you, he’s just a guy trying to make some extra cash. You don’t think he knows any more about this place than the rest of you. The kids have already given him every scary name they could think of, and that’s mainly because he doesn’t talk much and sticks to himself. It took you weeks to get him out of his shell, and he’s been fucking your brains out ever since.

“You still have that on?”

Like you, Yoongi pulled the short straw and they made him wear a hockey mask to scare the kids. You thought he went to bed after his little show, but maybe he couldn’t resist the opportunity to fuck with everyone.

He doesn’t reply or answer the question. Instead, he continues to make his way towards you.

“Yoongi?”

Still, nothing comes out of his mouth and worry starts to build in your gut. You almost make a run for the campgrounds, but then he decides to speak up.

“Damn, you look scared.”

If you had a rock, you’d probably throw it at him. “Why would you do that?”

Yoongi laughs and lifts the mask. His skin seems to glow underneath the moonlight, fueling your attraction. His hair is pushed away from his face, giving you a full few of his forehead and slit eyebrows.

“I was about to kill you, but I changed my mind,” he shrugs.

Your mouth falls open.

“You would not!”

You smack his chest as he snakes a hand around your waist. The other clutches his prop—a machete he probably got from Party City.

“Maybe I won’t,” he replies. “It depends, really.”

“On?”

Another shrug of his shoulders serves as a response, an indicator that your question is probably one you already know the answer to. However, he still doesn’t hesitate to enlighten you.

“Are you going to be good for me?”

Your skin feels on fire as his lips move against your cheek. He invades your senses with the smell of s’mores and liquor mixed with his familiar scent of shampoo, detergent, and nature. His body is warm, his heart beating rapidly from his adrenaline. Yours is racing just as swiftly, anticipating another heated encounter with the mysterious stranger who knows your body better than anyone.

“I can try.”

Yoongi guides you closer to a nearby tree, gently pushing you against the bark. He pulls down his mask before he speaks again.

“I sure hope you can.”

His blade touches your thigh and you let out a small gasp because of how cold it is. It feels real. It looks real.

“Wouldn’t want to make me mad tonight, love.”

“Why not? You’re gonna use that?” you ask him, now entirely aware of how huge the prop really is.

Yoongi pauses and tilts his head. “Sounds like you want me to.”

You can’t deny how intrigued you are by the object. You’ve experimented with all kinds of toys, but this would be a new one for you. However, another opportunity like this won’t come often—if at all.

“And what if someone sees us?”

“What if they’re already watching?” he counters.

Even Yoongi notices your reaction despite it being dark. Your hands clutch the bark, hoping your knees don’t buckle or give out.

As Yoongi moves the machete further up your leg, you know he wants to know where the skin stops—when will he reach the fabric of your shorts? However, you just threw on some shoes and ran outside when you got the text. He’ll never find what he’s looking for.

Realizing at that moment, he lifts your oversized shirt slightly to confirm his suspicions.

“Should have known.”

You give him a little smirk, letting him know it was intentional. You never know when a quickie will present itself around here. You have to be prepared at all times.

“You should have,” you repeat. “Wanna see the back?”

Yoongi nods and lowers his weapon so you can turn away from him. When you’re facing the tree, you lift your shirt, knowing he’s expecting you to stop at the waist. Instead, you remove the item entirely and drop it beside you, leaving you standing there in nothing but your panties.

Yoongi whistles and you scold him playfully. “Shh! What if someone heard that?”

“Trust me. No one did,” he promises.

Once again, he’s all over you. His arms around you, his lips kissing your neck and shoulders, his body shielding you from the breeze in the air. You’re drunk from his touch within seconds, and the way he speaks in your ear only intensifies the throbbing between your thighs.

“Don’t worry about them. I need you.”

No, he needs to be in you.

You can feel his boner getting harder the longer you stand there naked before him. You would tease him, make him chase you for it, but who knows how long before the others come looking for you?

“Well, it’s right here. Just take it,” you reply.

Yoongi doesn’t waste a second. He tears off your underwear, causing you to cover your mouth to capture your startled shriek. You would have just taken them off if he just asked, but you have to admit the manhandling is kind of hot. You’d put on seven layers of clothes just to watch him rip them off you.

The sound of his belt buckle and zipper lets you know what’s to come. You feel the thick tip of his dick touch your ass when he steps behind you, and just from the small contact, you know he’s standing at attention.

You spread your legs for him and he slides his cock between your thighs. Both of you exhale, already relieving some of the tension. Your wetness is already pooling at your entrance so he slowly slips inside of you in one motion.

“Fuck me.”

He’s momentarily caught off guard by your eagerness but recovers quickly and fulfills your request.

“Can’t wait, huh?”

Yoongi begins to thrust his hips, causing a skin-slapping noise to resonate through the woods. You can only hope no one hears the obscene sounds coming from the two of you. You try your best to suppress your cries of pleasure but Yoongi doesn’t hold back as he moans in your ear.

“This pussy’s so good,” he mumbles against your flesh. His hand wraps around your throat and he begins to squeeze, making your head spin. “I’m going to miss this.”

“Not me?”

Your voice comes out rough and shaky. You can barely finish your sentence because the words are getting trapped in the back of your throat. Yoongi chuckles sending vibrations straight to your core, the sensation leaves you trembling.

“Enjoy the moment, baby.”

He knows you’re joking. You barely know each other. This is fun, but that’s all it is. You know you’ll probably never see him again.

“Oh, I am.”

You can feel yourself getting hotter. Each snap of Yoongi’s hips takes you closer to the edge. Drool and tears roll down your face but you don’t bother wiping them away. You barely know they’re there.

“You like getting fucked in the wood? Butt ass naked, hm?” he growls. “Such a little freak?”

“Fuck, Yoongi.”

He laughs.

“No shame at all, baby. You’re really enjoying yourself, huh?”

You try to nod but you realize that you can’t so you croak the best response you can give in your position. “I am. It’s good.”

“I know.”

As he fucks you from behind, you almost forget about what he’s holding in his right hand. It doesn’t cross your mind until the blade touches your skin. He drags it across your skin, leaving goosebumps all over your body. Only one question comes to mind.

“Is that real?” you ask through your labored panting.

Yoongi pauses and brings the machete to your throat.

“Move and you’ll find out.”

Your eyes widen as your soul threatens to leap out of you. Excitement mixed with fear and curiosity makes you let out the moans you so desperately tried to conceal. You can feel the sharp edge threaten to break through your fresh as Yoongi begins to fuck you again. You aren’t sure how much you have left in you, but you know it’s not much.

“I feel you clenching,” he reveals. “You’re just as fucked up as me.”

He’s no longer controlling himself. He goes deeper and deeper with each stroke, touching your cervix and making your back arch. Your head tilts back, resting on his shoulder for support. Your nails dig into the bark as you stare at the moon, mind racing with a flood of disgusting thoughts and possibilities.

You wonder if someone’s watching, or recording you. If the blade will leave a mark, making you remember this encounter forever. Everything just hits you like a whirlwind. You barely have time to warn Yoongi.

“I—I’m cumming!”

The leaves and dirt become damp with your juices squirting all over the ground beneath you. Yoongi has to drop the machete to keep you on your two feet. He fills your ears with the filthiest things, intensifying your orgasm. You have no idea how long you’ve been cumming all over his dick, but Yoongi’s only a few thrust away from reaching his peak.

“This pussy’s so good. Give me another one,” he demands, fucking you harder.

“Wait a minute!”

You try to bargain for a month to recover from your last orgasm but Yoongi’s ready to blow his load. He grabs your hips and drills into your sensitive cunt with only one thing in mind. All you can do is hold on and hope he doesn’t have to carry you back to camp.

“Fuck!”

He curses loudly into the night when another wave of pleasure causes your walls to squeeze around him. This time he has no choice but to pull out and release his seed all over your ass. He moans and groans as the ropes of cum paint your skin. Soon, the only noises you hear are the crickets and both of you breathing heavily.

“Where is everyone?”

You can’t help but notice how besides the two of you no other voices can be heard. The game of hide and seek doesn’t even seem to be going on anymore.

It’s dead silence all around you.

“Probably dead,” Yoongi answers.

You roll your eyes and grab your shirt, shaking off the dirt before putting it on. You turn to Yoongi who’s adjusting his pants. His mask lies on the ground beside his machete, and you can’t help but notice the red stains splattered all over the white object.

“You really went all out, huh?”

You point towards the items and he laughs. “Yeah, you can say that.”

Both of you stand there for a minute before you decide to head back to camp. You assume everyone forgot about you so technically you have a victory.

“I’m gonna head back but this was really fun.”

Yoongi nods. “Tell your bunkmates I said hi, yeah?”

“Uh, sure. Okay.”

Everyone calls Yoongi a little weird, but you like that about him. You talk about all kinds of things that others would find strange. However, you don’t ever recall him speaking with the people you share a bunk with. They don’t even work with your group.

The walk back isn’t a long one, and on your way to your cabin, you take a peek at the kids. Some are actually sound asleep while the others are pretending to be. You smile thinking about how you and your friends did the same thing as kids.

You leave them to continue doing whatever it is they were doing, giving them a last taste of summer before the return home and school begins.

For some reason, the counselor quarters are unusually dark tonight and you struggle getting in the door. You don’t turn on the light, noticing that there’s someone slumped over the couch asleep. They look hammered so you leave the be. In your room, you notice that your bunkmates are all asleep. You tiptoe so you don’t wake them, but slip on something wet as you make your way to your bed.

“Shit, what the fuck?! I’m sorry guys.”

You carefully get up, covered in some sort of thick goo. You struggle for several minutes to find the light switch and when you do, nothing but horror awaits.

Blood.

The entire room covered in it. You try to shake everyone, trying to wake them up from the sick prank. However, the longer you examine the state of their limp bodies, the realization finally dawns on you.

“He wasn’t joking.”

#yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #bts smut #bts x reader #suga x reader #yoongi fanfic #bts fanfic #bts imagines #yoongi imagines #aaagustd.fics

212 notes · View notes

safination · 7 months

Text

Partners in Death…and Life

Part 2: Radio Will be Dead if He Doesn’t Explain Himself

| Part 1: Radio's Not Dead |Part 3: Not Everything You Hear From The Radio Should be Trusted| Masterlist | ao3 Parings: Alastor x wife!reader Tags: fem!reader, established relationship, hopefully not but just in case ooc!alastor (I'm still trying my best to keep him as canon as possible) Reader is in hell for a reason.

Summary: After a seven-year absence, you find the man you were married to in life, not only back in town, but also helping... *checks notes*... the Princess of Hell run a hotel aimed at rehabilitating sinners who were sent to the bad place for a reason. Hello, I’m back :D This was supposed to be published yesterday, but I got busy. Anyway, thank you for all the likes so far. It motivated me to really finish this chapter. Also once again, I have everything planned out, it really is just a matter of writing it down. *Updated 28/02/2024 Just added some stuff that I thought made sense*

Flick…

Lights flicker above you with a slight buzz. You drape an arm over your eyes when the gleam of the bulb blind you.

The hardwood floors chill your skin, but it’s the sensation of casual loose clothing on your back that warrants your exhale in peace. Just a second. You just need a moment on these hard and chilling floors to ground you… just… one … single … moment to…

Inhale

Exhale

Inhale

Exhale

A stray feather pricks into your arm. The vane tickles, but the barb digs your skin. You’ve called this body ‘yours’ far longer than your human one, yet the feathers that grow on your skin still astound you. You twirl it around your fingers, and wave it in the air like a wand—it’s a proper animalistic feather.

Your nose scrunches into a hard scowl, and you jump up, stomping into the kitchen toward that untouched coffee mug on your counter. Grabbing it, you splash the contents down the sink, letting it flush down the drain.

The sponge is rough against your hands as you scrub and you scrub and you scrub and you scrub and you scrub and you scrub a̵̯͒n̴̤͝d̶̫͌ ̶͚̇y̶̤̎o̷͔̓u̶̢͐ ̸̓͜s̵̪͗c̸͎͂r̷̀ͅṳ̴̎b̸͖̀ ầ̷̩̯͍̙̳̍͗͘ń̵̰̞̰̕d̴͇̻̮̫̝̓̎̈́ ̶̡̬̬̮̺͗͒́̌͑y̴̙̘̻͇̿̉̐͆ǫ̷͉̟̍̅̑̏ŭ̸̖͓ͅ ̴̛̝͇̭̥̌́́̂s̸̠̑̽̏́c̷̥̺̃̾̊r̶̲̯̈́̈̄͆͊u̵̼̝͕̼̇̍̈́͘b̶͍͖͖̐̾͝.

Inhale

Exhale

Inhale

Exhale

You rinse the mug, slamming the cupboard door shut when you drop it next to your own clean one. Fingers run through your feather-hair…hair-feather, or your ‘whatever that grows on your scalp’. Some questions you’ve stopped asking.

An audible grumble… well, uhhhhh…. grumbles from where your stomach is placed in this body, and you munch on your lips to keep the inhumane screech from erupting into the kitchen and breaking all kinds of glassware and little knickknacks that Alastor filled your home with.

(These days, the old trinkets collect dust on your shelves. There haven’t been any new ones in years.)

Chopping Hell’s equivalent of carrots calms you. (It’s honestly the use of some type of razor-sharp object that calms you. You’d prefer a different razor-sharp object, but a sharp knife is a sharp knife, no matter the size.) You chop until there’s enough food to make a proper and decent meal that your stomach will accept.

You crash on the couch, dinner secured on a plate, and flip the television switch. Light flashes into the room when you do.

Ad about some impish business—Not interested.

‘Yeah, I fucked your sister, So what?’ — Boring.

Cooking Venison with Vox— Lame.

Settling on the lifestyle network, you munch on your food. Some poor slimy creature flashes across the screen, and it's her home that will be remodeled because of…something. You’re not sure what that something was. You don’t care enough to find out.

The sounds from the television swap with the silence of your living-room as you take each bite. It’s one of the sadder habits you’ve picked up since purchasing this noisy picture box.

Your eyes wander to that half-filled coat rack, while your ears listen in on the show and that woman did not just say that pink would go with brown. Only your singular coat drapes on the hinge, when this particular design was made to hold two.

A commercial plays for some-thing called the Hazbin Hotel.

Your eyes are stitched to the screen until the final note of the song plays, and a different advertisement takes its spot. You take a sip of your drink. Just ą̷̖̯͈͂ ̷̡̧͚̤̩͎̙͇̞͓̟͈̤̝͉͉͉̘̉͐̓́̆́̇̍̐̿̈̄͜͜͜͝͝s̶̨̢̛̥̣̻̱̰̬̩̹̥̞̟̳̝͔͓͙̗̗͕̟͇̆̉̿į̴̡̢̠͇̱̤͔̙͎͕͛̑̓̒̀̔͆̓͂̃̚͘͘͠ṗ̶̡̢̨̳͙̦̮͍͓̻͎̲̪̲͕͛̔̐́̐̈́̒̒̉̎͛̆̈́̈́̉̔̑̃̕ͅ.

Inhale

Exhale

Inhale

Exhale

Inhale

Exhale

Inhale

Exhale

You blink, and you find your keys locking your front door. Already, your legs are trekking down the garden stones. A flower snarls at you as the gate locks with a click.

Another blink.

Huh…you’re on the bus.

The sign says it’s headed into the city. Living on the outskirts has always been beneficial for you. Not today, though. Today, the one-hour commute makes your feathers bristle.

You read the barely eligible address scribbled on the note, and pat your hair, smoothing the flared feathers sticking out. It seems…

Hmmmmm.

It seems you did not think this through. H-how…How are you going to get to the hotel?

Tagatha calls you a fossil for using one of those flippy telephones. You considered purchasing those fancy telephones with the lights and screens, and loud robotic voices telling you where to turn left, but learning to use a flip-phone brought enough stress for two lifetimes. You’ll happily stay a fossil.

Turns out, you don’t even need the address.

The Hazbin Hotel sticks out. It’s a humongous building with its name written across what you call the sky in blinding neon lights. Your vision zooms in, and you see that the hotel rests on a giant hill at the other edge of the city. Three large neon-lit arrows point to a crudely attached radio tower. Below it, a wooden ship hangs to the side. Circus light bulbs flicker with electricity.

The Hazbin Hotel is an eyesore – it’s exactly what Alastor prefers.

You reach the dinged-up metal gate on the bottom of the hill and reset your hand on the rusted latch. Trekking through the city took a lot, and you were already here. So, why are your legs frozen to the cement? Why does your heartbeat thump in your ears?

“Excuuussseeeee me.”

A snake towers over you. It’s your first time seeing such a slithery specimen as large as him. His hat rests on his hold, and it blinks at you. His hair … or was that skin … puffs out with two red sets of red eyes.

“Can I help you?” you say, warily. Sinners are in hell for a reason.

“Yessssh,” he says, his tongue slithering out. His flaps stick out, all four eyes staring right into your own. “I’d like to be a guessst at this hotel!”

You glance at the eye-sore that’s called a hotel. “I don’t work here.”

His flaps droop. The snake takes a deep breath, and slides the gate open, slithering in with determination in his … er… snake body.

You follow in silence.

The snake matches your pace. “Will you be a guest at this establishment as well?” he asks you. “Or were you given the same sssssuper secret mission?” Just like before, his tongue slithers out—what a funny little odd man.

Bangs grab your attention. When you focus your vision, you see an inky shadow servant striking a nail into broken wood. “Not at all,” you say slowly. “I’m just here to visit someone.”

His flaps open, and three pairs of eyes and a hat meet yours. “I am the great Sir Pentious!” he says with a proud hand on his puffed-up chest. “Inventor. Architect of destruction. Villain extraordinaire!”

You give him your name “….Doctor.”

“It is only the coward who attacks a battler of health.” His flaps droop as he sinks into himself. “You cannot be my rival, I’m afraid.”

“I guess that makes you brave,” you say, humming. The decorations for the hotel are rather dull. Drawn on the middle of the hill, a giant pentagram is etched on the ground. The flowers dwindle on the cliff edge, and do little to combat the grayness surrounding you. “What a shame to hear—I rather love good rivalries.”

The eyes on Sir Pentious’ hat brighten at the same time his own do as well. “Ssssso do I!”

One of the inky shadow servants waves at you.

You wave back.

Light streams from the glass doors. You blink a few times, adjusting to the sudden change of brightness. Circus-themed stained glass decorate the front entrance. One of the less tacky – but still tacky – designs of this hotel.

Sir Pentious taps the glass with the tips of his finger, clinking with each tap, and his eyes water in excitement. His nose crinkles when he takes a deep breath. You weren’t aware he even owned a nose. Sir Pentious fiddles with the flap of his hat, and bangs on the door.

Your smile strains after a minute of banging.

A young lady with long, white hair creaks the door open. You recognize her from the commercial.

Sir Pentious’ flap open and close with each word as he says, “Why, hello, my dear –”

A punch to the face is his reply.

“Oh dear!” you screech. Sir Pentious drops to the ground, and you kneel next to him, a steady hand on his slimy shoulders. “Have you no manners?”

This insolent girl points her spear and stomps a foot on Sir Pentious. She snarls, and her glare hardens.

“Wait, wait, wait!” Sir Pentious’ tongue slithers out as he holds a peace-sign. “I come in peacccccceeeee”

“What are you doing here?” Her spear inches closer.

“Vaggies,” another voice calls out. A blonde with a red pantsuit and a bowtie pokes her head, eyes in a squint. O-oh! You know this lady from the commercial. The Princess of Hell … Cady … Char …Charlie Morningstar! “What’s the problem?” Charlie’s eyes widen when she spots you and Sir Pentious, an honest smile drawn on her face. “Oh, hello again! And hello to you as well!”

“Can you please tell this insolent girl to get her food off this gentleman,” you spit, tilting your nose into the air. Your feathers sharpen when you bristle. “And your weapon away from my face.”

Vaggie takes her foot off Sir Pentious. She holds the spear close, but it’s away from your face.

Sir Pentious straightens into a stand, and the group prattles on.

No one bothers to help you. A huff escapes, and you brush the dirt off your skirt. Absolutely no manners. Insolent and ill-mannered. Would Alastor stay in such a place?

You’ve never laid an eye on someone as unique as this Vaggie. Her hair patterns are similar to wings. It’s almost unheard of to see such a prominent ‘x’. Her flared eyelashes resemble a bird. It strikes you silly. Almost everyone in hell resembles a human body with animal characteristics hidden somewhere. This insolent girl doesn’t appear to have any of that – only miniscule feathers made to appear native to Hell.

“Absolutely!” Charlie exclaims to who you think is Angel Dust. (The porn-star, not the drug. Obviously.) Sir Pentious nods with the sweetest smile on his face. There’s a squeak every time he bobs his head. That hat of his looks nervous. “This place is about second chances and who deserves one more than this…slithery…slippery…special little man.” Charlie takes a peek at you. “Oh, and this feathery…sheddy… and round-eyed woman.”

You do not shed.

You smile at Charlie, and give her your name, “…and I expect it to be used.”

Angel Dust whips to Vaggie. “Aren’t you supposed to protect this place?” he says and turns to you. “How are we even sure we can trust this lady – no offense, toots.”

“None taken,” you say, dryly.

Charlie’s eyes water when she turns to Vaggie, who easily relents with a sigh.

You’re thrust through the apple and circus-themed doors, squinting at the chandelier. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the design—it reminds you of those old rolled films. Charlie leads you and Sir Pentious further down the hall, all but pushing you in. Vaggie and Angel Dust lag a few steps behind.

Charlie waves her arms to go into an enthusiastic point. “So…this is our bar,” she says. Husk drops his drink, a scowl on his face, “and the bartender. This is the curtain, and this is the new wall after Sir Pentious broke the last one. And this is—”

Vaggie calms her down.

The bar clashes with the red wallpaper of the hotel. It’s almost as if someone just dropped it there, and etched it to the very wall. The wood is firm underneath your touch and feels exactly like what wood should feel.

You turn towards the bar and take your seat. Husk focuses on his drink. “Hello,” you say with a gentle voice that should not be mistaken for kindness. “It’s good to see you, old friend.”

Husk chokes and splatter out his drink, but you only smile at him. He coughs and his ears droop low. “Uh…yes,” he starts. “Good to see you as well.”

“There’s no need to be nervous.”

“I’m not.”

“Good.”

You run your finger across the skeleton wrapped around the bar post. A memory tickles your brain. This is one of the many specimens you owned. It took one whole month to strip the muscle off its tight hold on the bones, and another month just to clean, bleach, and wire together. The heads above the bar sign were a gift to you, and the skeletons were your gift back.

The neural spine pokes your finger as you tap each one. “I see you’ve set up shop here.”

Husk scowls, taking another swig of his drink. “Not much of a choice.”

“And tell me,” you start, “how long have you been here?”

Husk doesn’t answer you.

Charlie calls your name, and waves you over. “Over here,” she says pointing to where Niffty plays with some kind of one-eyes cat, “we have our maid—Niffty!”

Niffty hops on Sir Pentious. “The bad boy is back!” she exclaims, pulling him closer, eyes wide and shaking. A bead of sweat drops from Sir Pentious’ hat. “Never leave me again.”

“We’re about 80% sure she’s harmless….” Charlie prattles on.

“Hello, Niffty.” You smile at her.

She jumps off Sir Pentious, landing with a small ‘humph’, and strides to you with her pointy short legs. She calls out your name.

You squat, meeting her eye. “It’s great to see you again—Is Alastor forcing you here?”

Her eyes shine with an innocent type of glee. “Yes! Yes! Yes!” She claps her hands. “I get to chase all the bugs here.” Nifftly leans closer to you, giggling. “Can I be strapped to your table again? I love it when you slice me open.”

“Maybe next ti—”

Charlie grabs your arm, hauling you forward. “Oh! Uh, Alastor! Our gracious facility manager! You've met our newest guest Sir Pentious…hehe…,” she tells him. Charlie keeps pulling you, only stopping when you stand before a grand staircase. “These two will be our special wonderful guests!”

Alastor does little to show you what he feels, there’s just that same empty grin.

He bought a new coat, you note. This new one has white streaks on the new collar and less stripes. Guess some things were more important than others.

You slip out of Charlie’s tight grasp. “I think you’re mistaken, my dear,” you say. “I’m not a guest— just a visitor.”

You hold your husband’s gaze and greet him.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

“It’s good to see you,” you say, a smile drawn on your lips. “How are you doing on this wonderful morning?”

Alastor turns to you, drops an item into his grocery basket, and blinks. “I am amazing!” he says. He grabs your hand with his gloved ones and shakes it. His hands are warmer than you expect them to be. “Alastor. Pleasure to be meeting you. Quite the pleasure.”

You chuckle at him. “Yes, I’m aware of who you are.”

“Oh, how lovely!” He waves his fingers. “ are you on of my many fans?” His smile strains, and there, you see it, on the corner of his cheek. His nose flares and his smile takes the appearance of a snarl. Maybe it was the other way around.

“A bit,” you admit, adjusting your hold on the basket. “How are your stitches, Sir?”

His eyes widen—brown eyes, you note. “The good doctor!”

“I think you mean the good nurse.”

“Oh yes, yes,” he hums and inches the basket away from your gaze. “I’ve been taking my medicine, and replacing my dressing every three days, just like you said.”

“Good—that’s great to hear. No more accidents?”

“None!” He laughs. “And if one does happen, I’ll be sure to present you with an injury that is only hours old.”

A giggle slips through your lips. “That’s even better to hear,” you say. You clear your throat, tightening the hold on your basket. “I’d hate to take even more of your time. I’ll let you go on with your day.”

A firm grip on the basket handles keeps your feet planted on the glossy floor of the general store. “Not so fast, my dear. I think you still owe me,” he says. Your teeth bare into what you hope is a polite smile. “You promised to show me your marvelous embroidery the next time we meet! You’re not the type of lady to go back on your word now, are you?

“You sure do know how to put such ladies into a tight spot.”

Alastor laughs, breathy and light. “I assure you; I don’t mean to. I tend to get very excited about art

“Well, with you holding my integrity hostage, and the addition of such lovely enthusiasm, I find myself having trouble refusing.” You reach into your purse and pull out a clean handkerchief. “Sadly, I wasn’t expecting the general storm to be an art gallery, so this will have to do.”

And there it is again, that same breathy and light laughter. “They really do have everything in here

Alastor takes your handkerchief with steady enthusiasm, studying each stitch carefully. It’s one of your simpler designs—tiny flower bouquets scattered across the fabric. Your eyes are drawn to the contents of his basket: rope, strong acids, latex gloves, rolls of plastic wrap, and other such interesting items.

“You have such beautiful handiwork.”

“You can keep it if you wish,” you tell him. “I have thousands back home, and I’m always weak to such flattering compliments— a real boost to my ego.”

“Splendid!” Alastor slips the handkerchief into his coat. “I love receiving gifts from fans.”

You smile at him to hide your frown. You are not some fan-girl. “Of course.”

Alastor is following you.

The conversation ended several beats of silence ago, but he trails behind your every step. You skip the aisle where they sell produce, stop to grab some eggs, ask the butcher for 50g of chicken liver, and smile back when he smiles back. You sigh and lead Alastor to the end of the general store, and into an aisle.

You snatch a glass bottle of chemicals off the shelf—they really do have everything here. “Going for a hunt soon?” you ask, and read the label.

His smile brightens as he says, “Why yes! There was this wonderful prey that I spotted the other day, and I’m just dying to have his head hanging on my wall.”

You offer him the bottle. “You have a lovely coat. It would be a shame for it to be ruined by stains,” you say. “This always does the trick when dealing with the redder parts of my job.”

He takes the bottle from you.

“Take this as well,” you say and reach into your basket. “It’s the last bottle of 12% hydrogen peroxide in this store, but you need it more than I do. A ratio of fifty-fifty of this and a bit of hair developer in a bucket of water should brighten up your bones. Just let it soak for a day. Oh…and just in case, those two chemicals are safe to mix. You should avoid doing so, but an accident wouldn’t hurt you.”

Alastor offers his basket, and you drop the bottle along with the other hazardous substances. “You sound certain.”

“That is because I am.”

Fate has granted you a humorous shopping companion, and you decide to stop fighting it. Alastor follows you to the bread aisle.

You point to the top shelf. “Can you…?”

He drops the bread into your basket, and stares at you with what you think is curious tenacity.

“My father works as a butcher,” you say, sighing. “He prides himself on catching the venison he sells. We don’t believe in wasting a precious body, so we use it until there is nothing left to give. He came back from his own hunt and wanted to add another antler to his display

Alastor hums. “Won’t you need these then?”

“There’s still a bit leftover sitting in his workshop. I just came to get an extra bottle.”

Alastor continues to follow. “Do you often aid your father in his work?”

“Not as frequent as when I was a teen, but I still aid him when I have the time to do so,” you say. “It’s how I got to be so normal around a knife —the sharp ones are the best, they cut right through the skin, and with enough force, the bones as well. I keep a little collection of bones at home.”

“Such interesting hobbies you have.”

You pick up two coffee bags and hum. “Thank you.”

His bowtie is crooked. You point to inform him and reach out to straighten it. Alastor jerks away and spins to reach into the shelf behind you. “I rather detest owing favors, and you have done me two,” he says, offering you an entirely different brand of coffee beans. “I suggest you try this one. It’s flavors are far richer.”

You offer your basket and Alastor drops it right in.

You eye his basket once more. “Will that be all you’re purchasing?”

He nods, smiling at you.

You smile back.

Well, isn’t this just lovely? Well-dressed gentlemen really are your favorite.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Charlie whips her head, mouth wide as she stares at you and then at Alastor. Angel Dust has an arm on his hips, his brows furrowed and mouth quirked to the side an awkward but rather cute frown. Sir Pentious’ hat squints at you with what you assume is confusion—you can’t really tell. Sir Pentious’s tongue sticks out of his bewildered and crooked frown. “Oh! How nice,” Charlie says after a beat. “So, you two know each other?”

“Partners,” you say

“Friends,” Alastor says

Your smile strains as you say, “To be called a friend by the Radio Demon is quite the honor.” Alastor wipes his monocle with a proud puff.

Angel Dust whistles, leaning on the railing with the first set of arms crossed, and the second propped on his hip. “Didn’t think Freak would be the type to have friends.”

“Neither did I!” You say with a loud laugh. “Well, that’s what I am – a f̵̼̎r̴͔̃i̶̦̍e̶͕͠ṋ̸̀d̶͚̋.” You smoothen your puffed-up feathers. “Apologies.”

More introductions are done. Charlie insists on giving Sir Pentious his first lesson on apology. It goes about as well as you think.

Charlie winces a bit “….Ooooookay,” she says and inhales to plaster a huge smile. “Why don’t we… uh… take a look at the kitchen!”

Angel Dust takes one look at Charlie’s enthusiasm, winces, and says he’s getting a drink.

Charlie’s death grip on Sir Pentious stays firm as you trudge to the kitchen. She stalls at every painting to explain its history, and introduces every crack on the wall, showing it off with an enthusiastic glee. Even the water-stained wallpaper gets its own special moment during the tour. (Where is that ill-mannered girl when you need her?)

You lag a few steps behind. “Alastor…”, you say as a greeting.

Alastor matches your pace, using his microphone as a cane. With the very tip of his fingers, he plucks a stray feather off your hair with a coy smile that reaches from ear to ear. “I’m sure you’ve been wondering how I’ve been fairing these last few years,” he says, spinning that microphone of his and waving his hand like some kind of street performer.

“Has it really been that long?”

“Yes, I know I’ve been absent for some time,” he starts. “It’s nothing serious; I assure you. It’s nothing I cannot handle as well.”

“My goodness, and here I thought you were occupied at work.” Your teeth flash when you smile. “But in any case, it’s quite… kind… of you to soothe what little worry this friend might have for you.” Alastor and his microphone laugh at you, but you hum with satisfaction when his eyes narrow into a glare.

Charlie and Sir Pentious wave their hands, calling you from across the hall, and you hasten your steps.

The kitchen intimidates you. So many large and metallic machines. You’re sure it would be a living hell should you ever need to operate such an unorthodox set of appliances.

Copper-red tables fill the space, and similar colored cabinets stick to the wall. Such peculiar stoves they have in this establishment. There seems to be no space for the gas tank, nor a gas burner, just some flat glass with weird markings. You prefer the appliances stashed at your home.

“This…,” Charlie starts, winding her arms to a point, “…is the kitchen!”

Sir Pentious’ flaps extend, his arms rocking with excitement. “Such lovely metallic inventions.” He slithers to counter with a dip that appears to mimic some kind of skin. There’s some type of yellow liquid. “This bubbly torture deviccceeee is my favorite.”

“Uhhhhhh…I love that you love the kitchen appliance,” she says with an honestly gentle smile. “But that’s actually an oil fryer.” Charlie crosses her arm into a big ‘x’. “But no torturing is done here, no siree.”

“What a peculiar shape for an oil fryer to be,” you say, taking a look. Alastor glances over your shoulder to take a peek as well. “And there’s so much metal around—did you run out of paint, perhaps?”

Charlie frowns, her shoulder dropping low. “I’d love to add different colors to the machine, but Vaggie says it would take up too much money and time.”

Her frown lasts a second before she’s smiling again.

“Oh oh oh! You should take a look around. See if there’s anything you might want to add.” Charlie drags you towards one of the cabinets at the back. “We each have a shelf dedicated to our own snacks, but I always love to leave cookies on the communal snack pantry.”

Charlie prattles on, introducing each section of the cabinet. You watch Alastor warily when he shows his teeth. He wiggles his fingers across the air, reaching towards the shelf where Charlie just mentioned Vaggie storing her personal snacks. You slam the cabinet door before he reaches them.

Soft static fills the kitchen air.

“Go on,” Charlie urges. “Take a look around – I know some species of Sinners have specific dietary needs.” She props a hand on her chin. “Like Angel! He can’t seem to be able to have any milk—I wonder why? But he just keeps drinking it anyway for some reason.”

Does the Princess of Hell not know what Lactose Intolerance is? Maybe because she’s never lived as a human. It’s quite humorous, you suppose. A hell-born trying to guide a human, with little to no insight about humanity. Could this be the reason why she’s so naively optimistic?

Sir Pentious’ smile widens, and so does his flap. “You’re… giving…me permission to poke around?”

“Er…yes?”

You open a random cabinet door, and huh…

On the shelf, towards the back, you have the same set of spices in your own kitchen. One of the bottles here has its label stained and fraying at the edges. Another bottle is nearing empty, and the corner of the cap has been chipped off. There was a time, when your own set of spices was stained with oil, and its label frayed because of the constant picking to the edges.

Yesterday, you threw out a set of unopened bottles of spices, its seal still clinging to the caps and brimming with unused flavor, and replaced it with the same set of sealed spices. It’s a waste of your money to keep throwing out something that you never use, but…but…you find it in your grocery basket every single time.

Alastor closes the cabinet with a gentle click.

Your smile fades, and he holds your gaze.

“You are shedding all over my kitchen floors.” Alastor presents you with a bundle of your feathers bunched up on his palm. His grin mocks you.

You turn away, heading where Charlie and Sir Pentious converse. You do not shed.

Alastor pops out of your shadow, towering over you as he inches closer. “Long day?” he says with a hum, that smile still on his face. “You don’t usually start molting until the mid-summer.”

“Oh yes,” you say with a hum, that frown still on your face. “This day has been quite long. How very generous of you to check up on this friend of yours.”

He holds the feathers he’s collected, examining them with a careful eye. “With this rate, you’ll be able to gift a whole pillow.”

Your frown deepens. “Lovely,” you murmur. “I’ll make sure to do so.”

Alastor twirls his microphone and lands it with a soft thunk. He studies you for a second. “Rosie’s last husband got eaten by a shark,” he says. “Not even a loan shark—just a proper dead shark. She swore vengeance on the creature for taking a bite before she had a chance to.”

“What?” you say, and you can’t help but chuckle. “Is that what happened to him? She would be so vague about it when I ask.”

Alastor draws a line along his face, mimicking a smile with his fingers. “Much better, indeed.”

Charlie insists on showing the view from the top of the Hotel. Her arms cross around your own as she chatters about everyone and everything. It’s refreshing to meet a soul as honest as hers.

The elevator ride is painfully slow. The music strains your ears, and this battered metal death box jerks with every floor.

Sir Pentious and his hat scowl at the ‘absolutely inferior ssssmmelting of this handle, Charlie’ and ‘this piss poor wiring. The endsss are not aligned to the proper sssssafety guidelineeeesss’ or something.

Charlie listens in on every word, nodding to indicate that she hears each and everyone. It makes you smile. Alastor picks at your stray feathers with the tip of his fingers, preening the areas you have difficulty reaching.

Moments too late, the elevator doors open with that heavenly ding.

“The view up here is helltastically a-mazing!” Charlie informs the group. “Alastor, you often hide up here or inside the radio tower. It’s really good, right?”

Alastor switches his hold on the microphone, swinging to catch it. “Quite helltastic indeed!” he says. “ I get to see the whole city underneath my very feet.”

Sir Pentious nods. “I, too, would love to sssseee the city underneath me!”

Alastor swings a door open, gesturing for the group to enter like a gentleman. Charlie whispers an audible ‘awww’ at the sight and saunters right in. Sir Pentious follows along, slithering behind her.

He shuts the door when you take a step forward, separating you from Charlie and Sir Pentious.

There’s still that never ending smile on his lips as Alastor strides to the other end of the hallway, playing with his microphone. You follow behind in silence. Alastor opens a different door, and this time, you step through.

Alastor closes the door, leaving you and him together, alone, on this flimsy balcony. He beams at you, taking a step forward—

You slap him.

Radio static glitches from his microphone. There, on the corner of his cheek, you see the strain in his smile. His eyes harden into a glare, his nostrils flare, and his smile takes on the appearance of a snarl.

The air around you starts to gray with static. Symbols carve themselves into the space.

You slap him again, staring down at him.

“Is that all you came to do?” Alastor says to you with a low snarl, but the symbols dissolve and his antlers shrink.

You turn towards the view, propping a hand on your chin. “Such harsh words for a friend,” you say with a sarcastic smile. “It’s a wonder why you don’t have more with such a dazzling personality. At any rate, it’ll be impossible to find yourself a wife.”

His eyes twitch, and Alastor strikes the ground with his microphone. “Well, consider it an honor,” he says, inching closer, mimicking your smile. “Not many can say such words to me, much less be able to strike my flesh

“Maybe they should—someone certainly has to.”

Alastor still has a smile—he always has a smile. You watch as his eyes morph into radio dials, and the absolute audacity of that man to look at you like that.

Your feathers sharpen and crack at the sight. “D̷̝̈́o̷̞͊n̷̟̂'̷̗̏ť̵͔ ̴̱̀f̷̳̓u̴͍̓c̷̛͕ḳ̵͝ ̴̲̽w̸̞̑í̵̞t̴̼̐ḥ̷͝ ̵̫͌m̸̻̔e̸̡͘!— you never have, so don’t start. Don’t test me—not today, my deerest,” you say, hissing at him.

“What is it that you want, exactly?” he says, glancing down at you. “Unless you are a child, I expect you to use your words.”

“You know I’m not just some friend — you do not allow yourself to make such connections. We’re partners,” you tell him, and you don’t know why you remind him when he should already know. Was it in fear that he forgot? “But you left without as much as a word.”

“Was it that I left? Or was it that I left you?” Alastor says with casualty as if to show you such dismissal, and oh…yes, your husband can be a cruel man, indeed. Time and sweet smiles made you forget.

You rub your hands on your face, taking one deep breath. “I want what I deserve—an explanation,” you say. “That’s all I need as your wife.”

It’s his silence that makes you turn away.

“I see…” Your face falls. “Perhaps, it was a mistake to seek you out. A fool’s errand.”

You study the sinners below. The whole city really can be seen from underneath your very feet. (You ignore the trembling of your fists. You’re a doctor, for fucks sake. Your hands don’t tremble…at least, they never have before.)

Hesitant, but gentle touches pick at your feathers. Alastor preens you with warm hands. “You are not a fool, my love,” he says. “I would not be yours if such were the case.”

You harden your heart for you cannot let this man see the cracks. “This is not what I wish to hear,” you say, voice steady.

Alastor does not answer you.

“Will you just stay silent every time?”

“Yes.”

Finally, you meet his gaze. You hold it as much as he holds yours. “ There is not a thing in this world that you do not do without reason,” you say slowly. “However, I’m not sure if your silence is because you cannot or if it’s because you will not explain yourself to me. Which is it?”

There is nothing on his face that you can read, just a small steady smile that tells you nothing. “I will not.”

“I know you, my deerest, and I know that you’ve never once led me astray.” Your grip on the railing tightens painfully. This day has been long. “Then all I need is your word that you will return to me with that smile of yours when you’ve accomplished what you need to do.”

Alastor smiles at you, twirling his microphone. “We can even shake on it.”

You shake your head. “This is not a deal,” you say. “This is your wife demanding that you do so.”

“Then it shall be done,” Alastor says, inching close enough for his warmth to spread. He turns to you and pokes his cheeks to indicate a smile. "You look much more radiant with one."

You bare your teeth at him, giving a dry smile. “Much better?”

“Indeed.”

You study the sinners below once more, but this time your hands stay steady next to Alastor’s own. Well, Charlie was correct, the view is helltastic. The entertainment district blinds you, but only for a second. And when you sharpen your vision, you can faintly make out acid clouds forming on the outskirts of the city. You should have grabbed an umbrella on your way out.

“I heard you on the radio today,” you say.

He glances at you, his smile widening ever so slightly with smugness. “And you came all this way for me?”

“Well, that is what good friends do for each other.”

Alastor points his nose to the air with a huff.

“I only jest, my deerest,” you say, chuckling at him. “ I came all the way here to see if I’ve been widowed a second time, or just dumped like a common rag.”

“Is that so?”Alastor hums with dissatisfaction. “I’m sure you mentioned something about not noticing such a long disappearance.”

You hold his gaze, inching your hand to cup his cheek. You stop inches above his skin, and your palm hovers enough for Alastor to feel the warmness you hold on your hands. “Don’t pout, my deer,” you tell him, softly, oh so very soft as you caress the air. “Of course, I noticed your absence.”

You clap your hands together with the brightest and most innocent smile you can muster.

“But if I told you that, my deerest,” you start, “I feared that big head of yours would implode if I fed your ego.”

Alastor laughs, and his real voice bleeds in as he does. “That humor of yours has been my most wonderful companion all these years.”

You smile with satisfaction. “My, my, you make such fine compliments.”

His smile relaxes. “I do, indeed!”

“Just as you say that my humor makes a fine companion,” you say as you laugh, bright and heavy, “that smile of yours has been mine.”

A knock breaks the moment.

The door swings open, slow and hesitant. Charlie pokes her head, and her hair droops to the sideways. Behind her, Sir Pentious waves at you. You wave back.

“Oooooooohhhh….yikes,” Charlie says, shrinking deeper into the door. “Am I interrupting? I could just go an—”

“Not at all my dear,” you say. “Come right in. You have such a lovely view, and things like this are better when shared.”

Charlie swings the door wider, sauntering right in, and grabs your hand, squeezing it. “You could live here as well!” she says. Behind her, Sir Pentious nods with the sweetest smile you’ve ever seen. “We accept everyone.”

You flicker your gaze to Alastor. “I already have a home,” you find yourself saying. “And this place is far too close to the city. So much honking and blasting aren’t good for my ears.”

Charlie pouts, but she doesn’t press you.

The view is better when shared. Charlie points at every detail and explains everything you see. The sky darkens to a red, and too soon, it’s time to leave.

There’s a warm, but firm, hand resting on your back when you walk out the door, down the hall, and into the elevator. Alastor keeps his hands steady, even when you reach the common room.

Vaggie is the first to greet your group—well, it’s more appropriate to say she greets Charlie, and you just happen to be there. There’s a bag by her feet. “I was able to find the costumes you need for the exercise,” she says. “Even the giant lollipop is here.”

Charlie squeals. “Thank you thank you thank you!” Her excited gaze filters to you. “I have this wonderful game in mind, and then we could fo a bit of some of that good ol’ roleplay.” Angel Dust quirks a smile from the couch. “You should totally sta—”

“I’m afraid not,” Alastor says, drumming his fingers on his microphone. “I think it’s time for our visitor to head home. She’s had quite a long day.”

“Oh, of course. No worries!” Charlie says, giving you a bright smile—a real genuine and honest smile. “Feel free to come by anytime. The Hazbin Hotel’s doors will always be open should you change your mind.”

Vaggie scratches her face. “Before you go, I want to apologize for this afternoon,” she says. “It wasn’t right of me to be so hostile—I’m sorry.”

“Thank you, my dear. I understand,” you say quickly, ignoring the static behind you. “You were protecting something you cared about. I find great value in those who do.”

Vaggie smiles, and maybe she’s not too bad after all. “Thank you.”

From the couch, Angel Dust props his legs and waves at you. “And you’re welcome to open these doors any day.”

Alastor leads you to the door. You wave back at Niffty and Sir Pentious, whose eyes water as he frowns. Alastor’s hand stays firm as you trudge down the hill, past the rusted gate, into the city, and to the correct bust stop.

“You sure know how to find the most interesting groups of people, my deer,” you say. “Charlie and that hotel of hers are wonderful.”

Alastor adjusts his monocle. “Well, you know me. I see potential, and I follow it wherever it leads.”

“Should I be worried?” you say, chuckling. “The last time you saw potential, it ended with us married.”

“Not at all, my love.”

“You should continue to stay at the hotel,” you find yourself saying. “There’s just something about it—I think you’ll pick up quite a lot from your time there.”

His bowtie is crooked. You point to inform him, and reach out to straighten it. Alastor inches closer. The fabric is smooth underneath your touch. There’s stray lint on the shoulder of his coat, and you brush that away. You grab the lapes and adjust its fit, smoothing the fabric beneath your fingers.

“Much better?” he asks.

“Indeed,” you say, softly.

“I will see you soon,” he says, and you hear the unspoken promise and question hidden beneath his words.

“Good.”

Alastor tilts your chin with the tips of fingers. (And oh…oh. His gloves are off, and his hands are warmer than ever) He presses his lips on your cheek.

That blasted bus arrives too soon. You step inside, but turn to your husband and say, “Next time, when you disappear for several years, I expect to be informed and not just left with a vague note,” you say with a huff. “And when you return, I also expect to be the first to be informed.”

“Of course.”

“See to it that you keep your word.”

The bus door closes, and you take your seat. You smile to yourself and lean back on the crusty bus fabric. Patting your pocket, you take out a single gold band, slipping it on your finger.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

That habit of recklessness in moments of excitement was something your father hoped you’d grow out of. Thinking things through never really was one of your many strengths when such an exhilarating opportunity presents itself.

You scold yourself for not double-checking for gloves. Measure twice, cut one, and all that. But no matter, you’ll push through as always, clawing and digging to unearth the treasure left behind.

Your scalpel fits into your palms. Throughout this Earth, no… not just Earth, but Heaven and Hell as well, nothing will ever be as perfect.

You sigh, breathy and exhilarated, and begin.

‘First, do no harm’

But this…this does not harm a single living being.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Next Part: |Not Everything You Hear From The Radio Should Be Trusted| If you guys know who Octavia and Stolas are, that's what I imagine when I think about the reader's hair. Also, maybe some of you noticed, but I'm very relaxed when it comes to formatting my writing. Its why I use quite a lot of ellipses and em dashes and utilize italics and spaces. But the one thing I was very strict about was not to use the word, "miss". So there are no "You miss..." and "I miss..." But the words are there and spoken beneath actions and thoughts, hidden and unspoken, but known. My inbox is always open because I'd like to know what your favorite unspoken "I miss you" is/are. I have my own favorite ones as well.

#alastor x reader #Alastor x wife!reader #hazbin hotel x you #alastor x you #alastor the radio demon #hazbin alastor #Hazbin x reader #Hazbin imagines #Hazbin Hotel x reader #alastor #alastor x wife reader #human alastor #hazbin alastor x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel headcanons #hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin hotel fanfiction #Hazbin Hotel #hazbin hotel imagines

577 notes · View notes

pupyuj · 2 months

Note

I love your work! I always read it when I got home. HSHSHHHSHHSHS, can I request a Chaewon g!p? Wherein the reader comes home late, then Chaewon is mad and possessive since you don't respond to her messages?? You do the rest LOLL (it's my first time requesting here, LOL)

hehe glad you like my stuff anon <33 and hopefully you didn't mean a full fic bcs i am currently not taking requests for those at the moment BUT here's a little drabble for you! 💞💞

chaewon's fr the cutest when she's pissed, but unless you have a solid reason to get away with whatever she was mad at you about, you prefer not to witness her wrath 😭😭 and unfortunately for you, in her eyes, you never had a valid reason! 😤 esp when it comes to these kinds of things 😒 chaewon has been calling you all day, texting you about your whereabouts and what you were doing and at first she was genuinely worried since you usually updated her every time you figured she was starting to get nervous about where you’ve gone but this time… well, you were simply having too much fun to text her! and that was really bad… 😔

seeing her waiting for you in your shared bedroom standing by the window and not just quietly resenting you from the bed was scary 😭 her asking you where you’ve been, why you’re home so late, why you haven’t been answering her… she even asks if you’re having an affair with one of your coworkers bcs she can’t believe you had fun without her! 🫣 you answered all of her questions honestly ofc and was in complete disbelief that she would think that you would cheat on her… so much so that you ended up calling her a ‘paranoid psycho’ for even thinking about it 😭😭 and ofc a huge fight ensues that swiftly ends with you getting pushed back on the bed and aggressively kissed by chaewon 😳

but you were exhausted and still pissed at her so you tried fighting against her advances: whining and telling her to ‘fuck off’ until she slips her hand inside your panties and feels up your wet cunt… “all of this for me… and yet you’re saying that you don’t want it. you really are a bad liar, baby.” she would tease 🫣 and you really shouldn’t like how crazy chaewon looked with how she bit her lip while she parts your lips with her fingers and grazes your clit with her thumb… but you do like it and it was driving you nuts ☹️ bucking your hips up for more… and chaewon giving it all to you but in one condition! 🤭

and that was how you ended up getting restrained as chaewon fucks your ass from behind! 😋 leaving all sorts of marks down your back, waist, hips, and cheeks so nobody would ever try to steal you from her 😚 every thrust inside your hole getting deeper by the minute, sending you writhing and moaning so loudly each time that you actually thought you might wake the entire nieghborhood up… chaewon was just too good :(( and she fit so well inside you too… it was almost like your hole was made just for her 🥺 (and she completely believes that!)

her fucking your ass until she was close to her climax and suddenly pulling out before plunging cock inside your cunt and cums inside you… chaewon likes to be careful when having sex but you really pushed the wrong buttons this time so she felt like she had no choice but to try and give you a baby so you wouldn’t give her the lip the next time her obsessive-possessive ass gets crazy! 🫣🫣

232 notes · View notes

aealzx · 2 months

Text

_______________________

Update Post

Prologue | AO3

Previous Next

_______________________

Waking the kids was an interesting experience that told them a lot more about their dynamic. A simple knock on the door frame before flicking the light on earned a startled yelp from Tucker, a slight gasp from Jazz as she grabbed onto Danielle and shielded her, and Sam grabbed the nearest object and threw it at the source of the noise. Jason just caught the shoe with one hand, keeping it away from the stack of containers he had in the other, and waited for them to realize who was there.

“Don’t sneak up on us, sheesh,” Sam hissed, trying to steady her nerves with a slow breath while Tucker smashed his face in his own pillow with a groan

“I didn’t,” Jason responded, amused not only by their reactions, but also because Danielle looked more like a rag doll in Jazz’s arms. Limp, and still snoring softly, as though oblivious to the commotion. “Breakfast is here. Hope you’re hungry again.”

He earned a few sighs in return, and Jazz even gave a weak chuckle at the incident before she started rubbing Danielle’s back to wake her. The protective borderline smothering hold was loosened, but Jazz still kept her supported. And after a moment Danielle twitched with a small snort, blinking hazily and glancing around the room. “Oh shwee, p’nc’ks,” she slurred, attempting to crawl forward to maybe help pull the sleeping mats out of the way but sagging down to lay on the floor again instead.

“Sorry for waking you. Did you guys sleep well?” Duke asked, bringing in another load of containers from the car Tim had driven there. Alfred had outdone himself again, giving them several boxes of pancakes, bacon, eggs, toast and fruits.

“Yeah, kinda,” Sam admitted, rubbing one eye and yawning. “Not having windows or a breeze was pretty nice. But it was a little cramped.”

At least she was honest. Duke found he couldn’t blame her for feeling cramped in that room. Having the four sleeping mats spread out had covered the entire floor between the two medical beds. “Sorry about that. It’s not the best sleeping arrangements, I know. But hopefully we can get you guys actual beds soon,” he apologized, resting the containers on the table Tucker helped Jason unfold. They had quickly found the night before that the other medical table wasn’t quite big enough to fit everyone comfortably for eating, so had dragged a spare folding one from the other rooms.

“Oh?” Sam questioned, feeling that comment held more to it than an empty placation.

Jason couldn’t help glancing back through the doorway. “... We’ll be moving you guys after breakfast. Just as a precaution,” he admitted, setting his own containers down and turning to fetch more of the load Alfred had provided them. He felt tense ever since Tim and Stephanie had confirmed it was the League of Assassins the kids had stolen Lazarus water from. No one thought the League would let the kids go after just one attempt at killing them. And the first group that they had turned over to the police had been freed, so they had decided to start a relocation pattern for the kids until they could placate the League. But something still felt off.

Tim shared Jason’s unease, lingering at the entrance and scanning the surrounding area as Dick picked up the second to last stack of food. “Something wrong?” Dick asked, pausing for a moment as Tim squinted.

“...Maybe just paranoid,” Tim admitted quietly. “They shouldn’t have found this place yet.”

“We’ll use the time while the kids are eating to pack up. We shouldn’t be here much longer,” Dick tried to reassure, knowing everyone’s mutual discomfort was justified, but not wanting to rush unnecessarily

“I’m with our kid,” Jason commented, coming up on the tail end of the comments and grabbing the last stack of food and ignoring the slight glare Tim gave him for calling him a kid. “Maybe we should just get them to eat in the car.” He suggested it, but already knew the others wouldn’t agree so still followed Dick back inside. It was hard to eat pancakes in a vehicle. Plus getting syrup out of the seats was a nightmare.

The others were starting to dish up their own plates when he arrived, shuffling containers around to make room for the others and moving some to the medical table for extra space. Jazz was taking a moment to check on Danny, feeling her limited knowledge was once again severely lacking but still finding comfort in the fact he still seemed the same as always. Cold to the touch other than the faint warmth in his face, no movement other than shallow breaths that were at least a little better because of the oxygen mask. She hoped the vitamin IV Dick had brought last night had helped too, but she couldn’t tell.

Smothering down her emotions once again, Jazz let go of a small sigh and pushed off the table, heading to join the others for breakfast when Danielle looked around with a scrunched nose. “Okay, which one of you brought a murder hobo? And who are they wanting to kill?” she asked, half glaring at the three that were in the room as their comms crackled to life with a warning from Barbara.

“They hired Deathstroke! Get out of there, now!”

Jason swore as Tim sprinted into the room, making a beeline for Danny and earning startled looks from the other kids. “We have to go! Now!” Tim’s order was barked with a semi frantic sense of urgency as started disconnecting the heart monitor and IV tubes, trying to be fast but not cause any damage either.

“What?”

Someone asked the question, but Jason didn’t fully register who, grabbing the nearest two kids and pulling them to their feet. “Later. Just go. Follow Nightwing and get in the car,” he ordered, shoving them towards the door as Dick rushed to the entrance to peek out while remaining behind cover. The good news is it was someone they were familiar with. The bad news is the League had apparently upgraded their contractor. The strange thing was that they didn’t think the League of Assassins got along with Deathstroke all things considered.

“Signal, you’re driving,” Dick directed, scanning for any tell of where Deathstroke was hiding. Was he going to take them out from a distance or in person? It seemed to depend on his mood, and what the thought of the target. Did he know Dick and the others were there as well? Most likely. Would he still attack them? …. Unfortunately, yes.

“O’okay,” Duke stammered, rushing to join Nightwing before darting to the half covered parking spot, keeping low. He didn’t think he was the best person for a car chase, if it came to one. But he wasn’t going to fight back if Dick thought otherwise.

After pushing Sam and Tucker into the other room to follow Duke, Jason caught a slight flash to the side and turned his head to see Danielle floating above the floor, her hair the same white it had been before. Looked like one of them was ready to fight back. The sentiment earned a slight grin from Jason.

“Dani,” Jazz hissed, worried that the others would see her transformation as an act of aggression.

“You said only when protecting, yeah? Well I’m not gonna just sit here and play damsel while someone’s trying to kill us again,” Danielle retorted, then looked at Jason. “I’ll keep you covered while you move Danny. That’s what you’re still here for, yeah?”

Tim could honestly carry Danny too, but it would still be easier for Jason to do it while Tim grabbed any vital equipment from the safehouse. So to Danielle’s question Jason just nodded, once again scooping Danny up easily after Tim had disconnected the last medical tether. “Get in the backseat. I’ll pass him to you, and you’ll need to keep him stable if there’s any problems. Got it?” Jason directed Jazz, heading towards the exit as well while Danielle and Jazz followed. As they moved to the next room Jason blinked slightly when Danielle raised her hands and a mostly transparent green dome formed over the four of them, just in case. Jazz just wordlessly nodded, sticking close and looking with worry between her two siblings. She didn’t want Danielle to get in a fight, but Jason had loosely put her in charge of watching over Danny.

As they paused near Dick to wait for clearance to continue, Jason was mildly interested in Danielle’s barrier being able to phase through the walls, and wondered if that was a conscious effort on her end or not. It was surprising they hadn’t been fired on yet, considering Danielle’s note of someone with murderous intent suggesting Deathstroke was already there. Dick was still by the entrance, keeping behind cover and eyes flicking to each of the prime hiding spots he could see, but he also hadn’t been able to notice any sign of their assassin.

“You two take the bikes, I’ll follow through an alternate route,” Dick directed to Jason and Tim, only glancing at the barrier from Danielle before giving orders.

“Yeah, you and what gun?” Jason retorted, nodding for Tim to escort Jazz to the car first.

“Hood,” Dick scolded, not wanting to deal with disobedience.

“Wing,” Jason countered, staring Dick down defiantly. There was no way he was going to let Dick try to fight Deathstroke alone, and they both knew that was what was going to happen. Luckily it only took a moment before Dick sighed a huff in defeat.

“Fine, we’ll both stay,” he agreed.

Jason only let out a huff of mild triumph before ducking through the door to hurry to the car, carefully passing Danny inside to Jazz and Tucker in the back seat. “Just hold on tight, and don’t worry. The car is bulletproof,” he directed, trying to be reassuring as Jazz pursed her lips and wrapped her arms around her brother. Tucker just gulped and nodded, clinging to Danny’s legs and hunching over.

A soft hiss was their only alert to the start of the attack, Dick’s head snapping to the source of the sound and immediately ducking low. “GRENADE!”

Jason swore softly this time, pulling the car door closed as much as he could without climbing into the cramped car with the others. Tim dove behind his motorcycle, also reinforced against ballistics, only to look over the top and feel a strain of panic. “Dani, get down!” Why the hell hadn’t she taken cover with the others? She was still floating next to the car, and the grenade missile was definitely heading towards them.

“Yeah yeah,” Danielle huffed, unimpressed as she abruptly darted towards the grenade missile, catching it in her hands midair, twisting her body to follow for a half second then turning its trajectory in a half loop and letting it go back the way it came.

It was unexpected. But pleasantly so, and after a short breath of relief Dick, Jason and Tim left their cover to find better positions. Watching Deathstroke leap from the building he’d set up in to avoid his own redirected attack, Dick stepped into the street between Deathstroke’s approach and the others. Glancing over, Jason dodged out of the way of slamming the car door on the others, looking to the driver’s seat and shouting, “Floor it Signal!”

Duke tried not to flinch when Jason banged on the back of the car, but followed the order and stomped on the gas. “Hold on!” he called to the passengers, feeling just a little bad when Sam made a nervous noise while slapping her hands out to stabilize herself somewhat as Duke cranked the wheel.

“ Wait! Dani!- Don’t leave her!” Jazz shouted, pulling Danny close and bracing her feet on parts of the seats while craning her head to look back through the back window. Tucker just whimpered and kept low, and Duke glanced at the mirrors to make sure Tim was following them on his motorcycle.

“Don’t worry, the others will keep her safe and bring her back. They’ve dealt with Deathstroke before,” Duke assured, trying to keep his charges calm while also focusing on driving. Considering how Danielle had handled the missile, Duke was honestly more worried about his brothers than the meta girl.

“Signal, status update? Who do you have?” Barbara’s request came through the comms as she noticed his and Tim’s trackers starting to move, having already contacted the others to help coordinate.

“Sam, Tucker, Jazz and Danny are with me in the car. Red Robin is external, following on a bike,” Duke responded quickly.

“Critical material has been loaded into the back of the car, and I opened the link to the systems for you to backup and wipe the site. Nightwing and Red Hood have remained behind to prevent Deathstroke from following, and it looks like the girl Dani is staying with them. She redirected the grenade missile sent at us, so I think she’ll be able to keep up,” Tim added.

“Understood. Head to site 137 and wait for rendezvous. Spoiler, Orphan, Batman and Robin are en route for back up,” Barbara directed, eyes flicking between screens. The site was an abandoned parking garage with sixteen levels. It made it easier to hide vehicles in without compromising other safehouses.

“It’s confirmed to be Deathstroke?” Bruce chimed in, doubting the report.

“Yeah it’s him. The cockroach is in sight, and just as ugly as usual” Jason confirmed.

“That’s impossible. Mother would never approve collaboration with him. He killed grandfather,” Damian retorted.

“And I find it hard to believe Deathstroke would be willing to work with the League after everything either,” Stephanie added.

“It appears to be from a subordinate lower in the ranks. Talia may be unaware Deathstroke was hired as a second choice,” Barbara offered, half as a way to placate Damian’s protests.

“Deathstroke could be seeing it as a way to secure a debt with the League to cash in later,” Bruce commented, grateful that Damian’s anger seemed to lower considerably at the additional possibilities.

“...I will handle it,” Damian spoke next, pulling out his cell phone to type in a number he had memorized and never saved to his contacts.

____________________________

I initially wrote this and two more sections before watching Son of Batman, and then watched that movie and went "oh crap" and had to modify stuff X'DD please forgive if it doesn't seem completely in character for Slade. I only know him from Son of Batman, and Judas Contract.

____________________________

Tag list: @galaxy-sharks-and-bottled-ships, @starscreamlover, @nerdynonnativenarnian, @dragongoblet, @zeestarfishalien,

@bellathecatastrophe, @cj-ghostemoji-destielpie, @asexual-insomniac, @wolfeyedwitch, @tkiesai,

@fanaroff, @raven1508, @nebulainajar, @serasvictoria02, @oliocelottafanfics,

@honeysuckletook, @omniithe-deer, @wolf-under-the-stars, @gingernutcalo, @that-random-fangirl,

@op-sys-chaos, @kirasigncomics

#my art #phantom rogues #dpxdc #dcxdp #dc x dp #dp x dc #writing #fanfic #long post

356 notes · View notes