meikoo - Tumblr blog

meikoo · 2 days

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no one else like you｜college au

Pairing: Yamada Akito x Female Reader (Rosemary)

Word count: 2.5k+

Synopsis: Heading off to CalArts college in Santa Clarita, CA. You’re majoring as a game designer. While trying your best to fit in and find a sense of normal, you make an academic rival; Yamada, a programmer/developer major. While you two get under one another's skin, Yamada thinks you could be much more useful to him as a fake girlfriend.

Other: Yamada aged up to 19―a college freshmen, fake dating, forced proximity, academic rivals, enemies to lovers. possible NSFW in future, not anytime soon!

It's late March, the month you were supposed to be hearing back from the handful of art schools you applied to. It’s nerve wracking, waiting for the letters to come one at a time, your hands shaking as you ripped open the mail, scanning your eyes over the words, trying to find the words “Congratulations” or “We apologize, but”. But what was worse than waiting? Getting accepted into the CalArts.

Growing up, you always fantasized about getting into such an elite school and when you had gotten the acceptance letter in the mail, you were more than ecstatic. When you told your best friend, Catrina, about the news, hoping the two of you would attend the same college and maybe even live together, soon both of your dreams were crushed when she showed you her mail, “you didn't get in?” The sadness in your voice was apparent, you knew she was disappointed, hell, you were too.

“I’m not going without you,” you handed her back her mail, somewhat crumpled from your anger. Catrina shakes her head and places the mail on her table, folding her arms as she looks you dead in the eye, “Don’t be stupid, Rose. This is once in a lifetime kind of opportunity, and you got a full ride scholarship!”

“I don’t care” You kind of did care, school for free? Who would be stupid enough to give that up?

“Girl, stop lying.” She moved to sit down at the dining table chair, resting one arm on the table and the other resting on her thigh. You walk closer to her, and she starts to speaks“I got accepted into other schools too, so you don’t have to worry!” She gives you a pleading look, trying to convince you to go to CalArts, but you already made up your mind.

“Fine..” You say, as if she was the one to convince you and not the scholarship money, “I’ll go.” Her face lit up, thinking she was the one who convinced you to go, “Great!”

A few months had passed by then, it was late September, the leaves were only just starting to change colors, from a vibrant green, to a faded brown mixed with a tinge of yellow and copper. Although you told Cat you’d attend CalArt, and although you registered, scheduled a move in date and even had a roommate chosen for you, you couldn’t help but still wonder if you made the right decision. How would you survive without your friends? You didn’t know a single soul that would be attending the same college as you, and the thought of making a new friend? Terrifying to say the least. You thought that since you now have a roommate and exchanged numbers you’d become quick friends, or at least had someone to talk to, but they seemed cold, distant and unwelcoming to say the least. She introduced herself as Yukari and informed you that she’ll be moving in the day after you did, and although you were grateful to be left alone the day of your move, knowing you’d be living with a stranger was.. weird.

The day to leave your hometown finally came. It was early in the morning, cold and somewhat foggy from the raining night before. There was a mixture of excitement and fear, assuring that you couldn’t get a wink of sleep, and as soon as your alarm went off, you knew that you couldn’t back out of this life altering experience. You groggily sat up, wiping the crust from your eyes. Once you stood up, you moved across the room to put on some jeans, a white top anda. grey hoodie over it, alongside some comfortable sneakers knowing you'll be on your feet all day. Once finished, you head to the bathroom, standing there across the mirror, staring at your figure, the dark eyebags occupying your face. You yawned as you reached for you toothbrush, lazily brushing your teeth and once finished, you moved towards the kitchen, to see your mother already up making a quick breakfast before you and your parents hop in the car and head down to your soon-to-be-home.

You took a seat and your dinner table, bouncing one leg up and down as you scrolled through your phone, trying to think of anything else but the pit of nervousness boiling in your stomach. As soon as you and your family finished your breakfast, which you hardly ate, you gathered your bags, luggages and any other small necessities and shoved them inside your family's car. You sat behind the passenger's seat your mother occupied, while your father drove. The drive was a little over 4 hours long, you feared your phone would die from being on it, but luckily you took advantage of the silent drive and took a nap.

You remember dreaming.. About someone? Something, maybe? You don’t remember much, it was a short dream that you seemed to immediately forget as you woke up to your shoulder shaking you, “Rosie,” your mother shakes you, trying to get your attention. You straighten your back, stretching your arms in your cramped space full of your belongings. “Hm?” you hummed out, scanning your surroundings, “oh” you look out the window to see hundreds of students walking around, carrying tubs of their belongings, even some staff helping them, talking to their parents. You see booths set up, cars backing out and parking inside whatever open spaces are available in the parking lot.

As you take in this chaotic site, you remember the words your best friend, Catrina, told you as she gave you one last big hug before saying goodbye to one another, “You’re meant to be there, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.” You took a deep breath, trying to calm the anxiety already stirring up inside of you as you open the car door. Your father was already talking to one of the staff members, asking what time is your move-in appointment was and as you begin to inform the two, from the corner of your eye you see someone, a quick flash of your dream takes over your vision. You blink rapidly, trying to clear your vision as you look back to your father and the staff member staring at you blankly, waiting as patiently as they can for an answer. “For.. two pm” you inform them, rubbing your eyes.

What was that? You think to yourself, Maybe it was the lack of sleep.. anxiety, maybe?

As the staff helps you and your parents take your massive amount of belongings up into your empty door, you take in the surroundings. You had the first pick of which bed and which side of the room would be yours, perfect.

The doorways were aligned perfectly in the middle of the room, giving the left and right side an equal amount of space. Across the room from the door was a large rectangular window with no curtains, only those flimsy window blinds that weren’t bright white anymore. It didn’t take you long to decide, you chose to go to the right side of the dorm. Your bed was lifted up a few inches off the ground, the headboard against the window wall and on the foot side of your bed was your desk, allowing a small gap of space between your chair and your wardrobe against the bedroom door wall. Unfortunately, your dorm does not come attached with a bathroom and shower, which sucked but it could have be worse. It could be in a completely different building, but it wasn’t.

As you get settled, your parents helping you unpack and organize your belongings, it slowly starts to feel like home. The sun was close to setting, that was now around 6 o’clock by time you finished setting up your side of the shared dorm. You stood proud, hands resting on your hips as you faced your already made bed. Your parents seemed proud too, they were finally free of you and no longer had to clean up/take care of you anymore.

After a bit of silence, the reality of the situation sets in, you turn to see your parents gathering up their items, ready to leave. They stood by the door, feeling your eyes on them, you spoke, “Are you leaving already?” You ask, trying not to sound too sad about it. You didn’t like crying in front of anyone, but it was a bit hard now. They nod and walk over to you, each giving a separate hug, your father telling you how proud of you he was as your mother took a step back, giving a nod in agreement. He gave you a quick squeeze before letting go, stepping back a bit, “Vas a hacer grandes cosas, Rosie” Your parents both gave you a small smile, your mother wiping the corner of her eyes as you gave a reassuring smiled back to each of them. They headed outside your door, giving you one last look and a thumbs up before they quietly shut the door behind them, leaving you alone in your dorm room.

It was oddly quiet, comforting almost as you sat down on your computer chair, turning to face your desk, your hands gliding over the smooth light oak wood desk. You weren't sure of what to do now, but your eyes started getting heavier again. The painstaking long day of packing, organizing, unpacking and organizing again without much sleep was taking a toll on you. You yawned and lifted yourself off your chair, grabbing a towel, pajama clothes and items needed to shower. As you grabbed all your belongings and headed outside to the hallway you quickly thought to yourself,

Where the hell is the bathroom?

As you stood out in the hallways with your belongings, you tried to scan all the nearby doors to see if any had a bathroom sign. You began walking down the hallway, barely turning your head left and right to avoid looking lost. It was so late in the day already that most students either left home or locked themselves in their dorms already. You reached the end of the corridor only seeing the exit door and other light oak doors that had whiteboards glued to them with other students named. You closed your eyes and sighed in frustration and turned around to walk down the same hallway once again, maybe you had missed it?

"Hey," A hushed voice called out from behind you, "excuse me!" They spoke a bit louder. You turn around to see a blonde woman standing in front of the exit door. "Hello?" You didn't mean for it to come out as a question, but maybe she thought you were someone else.

"Are you looking for the bathroom?" She asked, giving you a polite smile as she held her hands in front of her lap, head slightly tilted to the side as she looked at your and the belongings in your hand.

"oh, um,, yes I am, why?" You asked her, looking down at your things, seemingly obvious you were trying to shower. She smiled and walked a bit closer to you, but still maintaining a comfortable distance.

"It's on the other end of the hallway," she pointed over your shoulder, following her point, you look over your shoulder realizing the bathroom was next to your dorm the whole time. You sighed deeply, dropping your shoulders in disappointment.

You laugh at yourself and turn back to her, "Thank you.." you tried searching you collared shirt for a name tag.

"Akane, I'm the Resident Advisor, or RA for short!" She smiled brightly at you, her aura bubbly and friendly. You gave her a shy smile in return, "I'm Rosemary.. and thank you, long day" You shrug your shoulders. She nodded, understanding how tired you must be.

"If you have any other questions, let me know! My office is just one floor below, room 300." She gave her another smile before waving goodbye, leaving you alone in the silent, brightly lit hallway.

You walked to the bathroom, setting down your belongings on the counter, first brushing your teeth, staring into the mirror once again. You raised your eyebrows in astonishment, for some reason your eye bags had gotten darker. You felt a bit embarrassed knowing the RA saw you like this. Once done, you hopped in the shower, letting the hot, refreshing water wash away all the sweat and dirt you collected from your hard work today. As you get lost in thought thinking about your classes, roommate and how you'll make friends, you hear two voices enter the bathroom.

"He really was!" A voice exclaimed, the other hushing them. Footsteps followed, echoing in the somewhat empty bathroom.

"Quiet, you're so loud.." Clinking sounds were heard, they must have been placing their belongings on the counter.

"Sorry! But listen, he was so attractive! He had dark long hair, but not too long, ya know? Like.. a medium length I guess, and his eyes were such a pretty blue?!" She shrieked, hands palming the sink.

"Hey! Get off me, you're heavy" Her voice struggled, sounds of grunting as if shoving the entire body weight of their friend off her body. "I can't help it!" the other girl exclaimed, "I'm falling in love!" she giggled and the grunting stop, she stood up straight.

Blue eyes? Dark medium length hair? Although you can't picture the mysterious mans face, the very generic description felt familiar. You thought maybe you saw him as you came inside the building, or maybe the parking lot, but your memory was poor, you don't remember much, let alone faces. Once you decided you were finished with your shower, you turned the knob on the wall stopping the water head from warming you up and reached out to grab your towel hanging outside of the shower.

You stepped out, the two girls eyes you in the mirroring as you stepped towards the counter, trying to avoid their gazes. You had planned on changing in the bathroom, but they didn't seem to want you there, let alone change as they laid their eyes on you. You just quickly gathered your things and speed-walked back to your dorm. Thank goodness you lived here alone.. at least for now. You quickly got dress and dried your hair with your towel. You threw the towel and your dirty clothes into a corner on your side of the dorm, you have yet to acquire a laundry basket, plus you were so drained.

You threw yourself up on your bed, tucking yourself underneath your blankets, you tried taking deep breaths, calming yourself, preparing for your day tomorrow. Instead your mind goes back to the girls in the bathroom. They were rude, you think, why were they just.. staring? It was a bathroom, acting like I wasn't supposed to use that shower or something. You tossed and turned, trying to get comfortable, your mind drifting to the mysterious man the girl proclaimed to be in love with,

blue eyes..

dark medium length hair..

blue eye.

dark hair.

You were fast asleep.

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meikoo · 5 days

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angsty finnick + appreciative finnick we clapped , mostly js a lil drabble to kick off me coming back to tumblr 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

Thinking about finnick odair who never raises his voice at you, who, if you’re arguing—always makes sure to speak to you in a calm rational voice, never, ever raising it more than necessary.

whose so gentle with you, as if he’s afraid one touch too harsh and you’ll disappear into ashes, leaving him forever. he’s always at your side, whether it be when you’re cooking, or maybe even doing the laundry, he refuses to let you out of his sight—almost if—he dares to look away something will happen to you.

you know it’s because of what happened to him in his games, and what happened with president snow. he’s afraid, and you know no amount of reassurance will ever make those nasty repulsive fears and thoughts leave. they’re embedded in him now, like a tree root embedded in the ground, it’s roots stretching for miles—his fear, it’s so deep he’s worried someday he’ll choke on it.

he has you, you’re present, you’re here. and it’s enough, for the time being it’s more than enough. he gets to stare at you doing the most mundane things, he gets to whisper how much you mean to him—and, he gets to love you, cherish you. he gets to know you, he loves you and he knows you. he doesn’t think you’ll ever truly understand on how much it really means to him, that you’re honest and gentle and stay with him.

you’re consistent, and you’re constant. he doesn’t have that in any other aspect of his life, not even his job—the mental horrors he has to face are always different, they’re always created in a different way that has his fears replenishing and being made anew—but you, you’re always home when he comes back, doing whatever it is you’re normally doing.

and it makes his heart ache with gratitude, that after every fight, every scar and every stab, you’re here. with him in this very moment, he isn’t sure what he did to deserve this, this—small—piece of heaven with you, lazy dinner dates, washing each other’s bodies in the bath, him helping you fold the laundry for the week, but most importantly, tracing your body, your face—feeling that you’re here, and that you’re present. he’ll go to every end of every universe if it meant just being aware of your presence.

@ diarivie 2023 , do not repost on any third party websites, or copy my works

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meikoo · 6 days

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AAAAA IM SCREAMING FUCK HES SO AAUGGHHHHHH MWAMWAMWA

dynamight is clearly trying to go unnoticed in the grocery store, but you recognize him, anyway, despite the mask and low-pulled hat. knowing makes you feel even worse about approaching him—because you'd be too afraid to, otherwise—but you're not sure what else to do at this point.

you lean in close to him as he's standing in front of the produce, poking through the same bin.

"ooh, we need to get an onion, too, remember?"

he startles enough away from you that you can feel the foundation of your last ditch efforts crumbling. even beneath his hat, his light eyebrows pull down hard, gaze narrowing, and on the other end of such a fiery glare, you're reminded exactly why you've never wanted to meet him before: he's terrifying, handsome as he is.

"hah—"

you smile at him and hope it looks real, squishing into the space he's created even though your hands are shaking. "the guy by the juice followed me all around the store from the parking lot and i don't know what else to do." you widen your eyes, and you want to look, you do, but your facade is hanging on by a thread. "please help me."

dynamight swallows, and you hope his expression only seems so guarded because you're so close; enough to smell his subtle yet sharp cologne, to see the dark blonde wisps of his eyelashes. when he blinks, they brush against his mask, feather-light.

"okay," he nods once, and the gravel of his voice makes your stomach turn in some teenage way, that has your cheeks flaring.

(this is really not the time to be getting shy.)

he doesn't look towards the juice either, thankfully, and instead adjusts his stance, leaning into you in return, large and wide and formidable enough to nearly shield you from view. "an onion, huh? think we got one at home."

you can feel the warm press of his body against your own and it has you releasing a breath that had been trapped deep in your chest, has tears stinging behind your eyes. the sharp pain in your sternum lessens, and when you feel his hand come up to sit, carefully, against your lower back, dynamight murmurs,

"y'r alright,"

and you are.

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meikoo · 6 days

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it’s a mystery to all why pro hero dynamight hasn’t fired you yet; you misplace his papers, forget important dates, you can’t even get his coffee order right after three months of working with him!

it also doesn’t help that the hero is known for his bad temper and lack of patience, his perfectionism (or hatred for incompetence as he calls it) has costed him four secretaries in the past year. everyone thought you’d be the fifth way before the end of your probation period.

the whole office turn their heads as you walk past them with a birthday cake in a silver platter- dynamight prefers gold, they all think. still you hold your head up high, a confident smile on your lips, the bright pink icing a little melted. you knock the door with the tip of your high-heeled foot.

a rough come in, unbothered. your knees bend and you use your elbow to open the door, vanilla cake sliding down the tray just a bit. everyone is holding their breaths, waiting for the inevitable to happen. but your luck is never ending, straightening up and walking inside.

a collective sigh of relief is let out. it’s silly, how much they’re rooting for you.

the clicking sound of your heels halts and a repertoire right out of a tom and jerry episode reaches their ears. they wince in advance, ready for a stream of unfiltered curses.

once again, your luck is truly something to study. the boss is laughing, and so are you, as you stutter out apologies and run out of the room in search for some napkins.

they watch in awe as a red faced hero joins them for a piece of cake at the conference hall minutes later, carmine eyes illuminated by something more than just the candle light.

a subtle smile, a forbidden glance.

not much is needed to point out the obvious. they won’t dare do it though, but it’s sweet watching someone fall in love for the first time.

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meikoo · 6 days

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okay shut up don't look at me but kirishima comes to you asking for a very very personal favor — that you can say no to if you want ! no hard feelings ! — because he's really bad at sex and needs someone to practice with.

(newsflash: he's not bad at sex, his dick is just huge and so sensitive that he cums fast.)

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meikoo · 8 days

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⟢Alastor x Cupid FemReader Tasked with making a demon believe in true love or you can’t return to heaven, things immediately go off the rails when you hurt yourself and Alastor catches one of your most troubling arrows; Mania

˚₊ · »-♡→ Week 1 and Week 2 ˚₊ · »-♡→Week 3 and Week 4 smut💦 ˚₊ · »-♡→Week 5, Week 6, Week 7, and Epilogue smut💦

Alastor demands you tell him what you’d consider a nice date, which makes a surprisingly lovely time in the library. Dancing leads to… not dancing and a minor rearranging of your guts. And finally, you try to shame Alastor out of Mania and Alastor finds himself having to explain, well, Alastor.

「warnings/promises: Smut, guts➡️rearranged, kinda dub➡️con cuz Alastor still doesn’t listen, but funnily enough neither do you?, lots of interrupting each other, Luci’s hat, you’re down so fucking bad lmao」

🎶 minors DNI 🎵

Angel was live blogging everything you said when you recounted what happened to you after returning to the hotel.

“Wait there’s a character limit, I gotta make a new post.” He was wiping actual tears from his eyes, “Fuck this is funny.”

“Hmmph,” Alastor offered a small noise from his end of the sofa. Neither of you had mentioned or even referenced the sex. There was a strange feeling between you that it didn’t happen so it didn’t need a discussion. But also that it had absolutely happened, as Alastor’s hands found renewed vigor in their search for you when in public and private and your body seemed to respond in kind. You’d still occasionally move his hand off of you, but there was a pulse of electricity every time. When his hand would come to rest on your upper thigh while seated beside each other in the common areas, you let it linger. What harm was it? Heaven wasn’t fucking watching.

Everything aside, the sex had done nothing to dispel his interest. Perhaps you’d only made it worse, for both of you.

By midweek you found the sling useless, happily tossing it aside and beginning gentle stretches. That was more progress than you'd made in your main task.

Every morning you woke up beside Alastor, every day you had him in your orbit, every night you fell asleep feet from him.

Had Mania not taken him he would be a prime candidate for showing the virtue of true love. He was already fucking there, a captive audience. But that wasn’t how it worked. Cupid-induced manic love could never be true. Nothing you created was true, really. But atleast with Eros or Agape you could still have added the notion of true love to the mix. His heart would still be receptive and open to the idea. The way he was now, you could proselytize until you were blue in the face and he’d still think manic love was true love.

An unintended consequence of living with Alastor was discovering you both had quite a bit in common, as much as that information irked you. He enjoyed horror movies such as ‘Dracula’, you enjoyed horror movies as well, just newer ones. Ones in color. He could cook quite well, something you enjoyed to do. And his taste in music was actually lovely. You had assumed he listened to screams on a 7 hour loop.

Actually, upon closer inspection, Alastor was nothing like you had initially assumed. While he had shown you he was capable of terrifying feats of strength and power, he was also remarkably gentle. Every time you descended the stairs his hand was barely felt as it hovered at your elbow ready to save you.

Early in the week you fell asleep watching the group play a board game, somehow redemption related, and awoke with his coat laid over your body. When you thanked him, he just smiled and continued enjoying watching Niffty hide the play money.

You were finding yourself more and more wishing the arrow had never fallen. If you’d just met him as you fell, perhaps you would be staring into that portal home. There were definitely worse options around. Even his imposing height had begun to…not bother you, perhaps was the best way to say it.

Or his large hands. There was a safety in the way they rested on your back. Speaking of…

Your throat ran dry when he leaned into you, one of those hands sliding across your thigh, and asked against your ear, “Ready to go?”

He had to have seen you licking your lips to unstick your teeth. With a nod, he stood and offered a hand to you.

You both were already out of the elevator and walking to your room when he slowed, coming to stop just in front of you.

His room, fucking hell.

“You know, I was thinking,” he wasn’t looking as he spoke to you, which was odd given how often he stared at you. “If you’re going to be here with me from now on-“

You opened your mouth to argue but he put his hand up, “I’d like to know the things you enjoy doing with your romantic interests.” His smile was almost pure, you could tell he was genuinely asking.

“Well I don’t have any so, why would you care?”

“No things you enjoy?”

“No romantic interests.”

His head lolled to the side, “Sometimes I think you say things just to bother me.”

You did.

“I do.”

You thought if you kept being rude maybe you could keep him at an arm’s length. Not get too attached. You’d been kind to people you didn’t like before and eventually you started to like them. This was that. But opposite.

He stared down at you, taking a step closer. You took one back. That smile shifted from pure to sinister, his eyes half lidded. You could almost see the thoughts playing on his face.

“Alastor-,” your back hit the elevator doors. The pounding of your heart when he brought his face to yours drowned out the sounds of the button being pressed. When the doors opened you fell backward with a yelp, but a strong arm caught you by the waist.

“You have twelve floors.” His hand hit the first floor button, “You can share with me your idea of a quality date. Or I can show everyone,” that clawed hand came to your neck, sliding down the evidence of your pounding heart, “how pretty you scream.”

As soon as the doors closed you were pressed against the elevator wall, right leg pulled up and around his waist. “You wouldn’t dare.” You had meant it to sound strong but instead it was half whispered with a shaky voice.

He popped a button off your blouse, “Maybe!” Warm mouth now on your neck, his tongue ran over your pulse, “I wonder if everyone is still in the lobby.”

Over his shoulder you watched the numbers counting down. The hand that cut off the button slid down to your bottoms, slipping under the waistband.

On the 3rd floor the elevator stopped. When the doors opened a demon you didn’t recognize was standing there, eyes wide and mouth open. He didn’t make a move to enter, Alastor looking over his shoulder and sharing what you could only assume was a death glare. The flickering lights were a giveaway to his anger.

His fingers dipped down and cupped your sex, hot palm pressing into your folds.

The doors closed again and you watched the second floor light up. A finger bent and pressed into you.

A nibble at your ear, “You know I’ll win, regardless.”

He was right. Which was the smaller defeat? Humiliation or just telling the bastard your idea of a nice time?

“Books. Drinks.” You squeaked, the first floor lamp now aglow. His hand pulled away just as the doors opened.

Expecting him to gloat you were surprised he just hit the 10th floor button. The library.

He opened the door for you. The library’s main area had two reading chairs bookending a long antique sofa. You took the chair furthest from the door, hearing the door lock.

With a snap, the entire bar with Husk included seemed to fall three inches out of thin air.

“Oh for fucks sake.” Husk looked around, already annoyed, “You coulda just fucking asked for drinks to bring with you. You know cups are portable, right?”

It was nice, actually. Husk poured, you both read. There was an unnecessary fireplace crackling behind you. Cozy. And it got cozier and warmer the more you drank. Your shields softened as the glasses emptied.

Your book was good, but as you felt the alcohol hit you were reminded of the last time you’d gotten a little past tipsy. Sneakily, but not at all, your eyes wandered over to Alastor.

His legs were crossed, but you could remember looking down and seeing them spread open beneath you. Open. Did many people see him like you had? Had his talk about a disinterest in sex actually been a trick to intrigue you? It hadn’t worked, you genuinely didn’t care what his preferences were. If anything it made you less likely to make a pass.

Your eyes wandered down his slender neck to his wide shoulders. Less than a week ago your arms were resting there. Further down, you remembered that soft bit of fur at the base of his cock, a small trail from his belly button.

Husk watched your face turn pink, “You good?” Your head whipped around, looking confused. “You’re getting red.”

Oh. I was just thinking about my pussy drowning in Alastor’s cum.

No, obviously not!

Alastor’s eyes left his book and found yours. They were so red; his eyes, not your cheeks. No one in heaven had such wicked an appearance. When you didn’t reply, busy staring back at Alastor, Husk groaned, “Aah fuck.”

“What are you reading?” You asked, clearly able to see the book title from where you sat.

Alastor held it up, “Oliver Twist.”

“Never read it.”

You had read it.

Setting your book down, you tried to walk as straight as a line as you could to him. You took the book from his hands and sat down on his lap, back against his chest, before picking it up again. “What page are we on?”

“You can leave, Husker.” Alastor didn’t even look at Husk when he said it, eyes still on your face.

When the door closed and Alastor could lock it with a snap, he uncrossed his legs. “Would you like to start over dear? From the beginning.”

Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

“Can we?” You leaned your head onto his shoulder. When had he become so comfortable…?

“We can.” The book was set aside, his left hand pulling your chin up, “I think we skipped a few chapters before.”

You opened your mouth, “I don’t like kissing.”

“You will.”

The front part of your brain dissolved, you were sure of it. Your decision making abilities were entirely eradicated as his lips pressed into yours. Fuck, maybe even your basic motor skills had been fried, his tongue swiping across your mouth before you just—opened. Your hips ground down into his lap, and you felt his smile widen against your lips.

“Stop smiling. I just like warm bodies.” You reached for the book and opened it to the first page, “and you’re so fucking warm.”

He began to read, but between the rumble of his chest, his voice in your ear, and the heat of his body, you fell asleep.

No matter. Alastor just hummed. With a summoning of his shadow you both sank into your shared bed, where he continued reading with you against his chest.

You dreamt about home. About red eyes and warmth.

Was it so bad, being in hell? Sure you had a fucking deer demon as guard dog but it seemed his mania was … not so terrible. Honestly he seemed relatively normal now. He would wander off for significant lengths of time, even leaving in the mornings while you were still lazing about. A kiss to your hand was the indicator he would be popping off somewhere.

Alastor still wouldn’t let Lucifer alone with you, but otherwise everything was okay. You’d even come to enjoy certain aspects of his possessiveness. That ever present hand, for example. Even when it wasn’t on you, you could still almost feel it. It had become second nature now.

The week was actually peaceful. Your pain was entirely gone, you could move about freely. Despite that Alastor still would press up behind you and offer to help dress you. An offer you declined, but every time he asked you paused longer and longer before saying no.

Alastor was happy to find you in the library toward the end of the week, you having wandered off when he was called away. He summoned a confused but pissed off Husk again, who was midway through making someone else’s drink. He set it aside, pouring Alastor his whiskey. You decided against drinking, you knew you always made poor decisions. Like sleeping.

Delighted by the impressive collection you found a non-fiction and settled into the same large chair.

“Reading is a virtue.” He said to himself yet out-loud, taking a seat and setting the radio on from across the room. Etta James. ‘Somethings got a hold of me.’

“A little past your time, isn’t it?” You smiled, you liked songs about love. Not because of who you were, you just liked the idea of someone so enamored they have to make art.

He laughed, “Nosey little bird, have you been asking about me?”

Well shit. You had forgotten to play dumb. The past couple weeks you had casually inquired about Alastor from the other staff members. A modest collection of facts to help you better understand the man. A quick recovery. “Know your enemy!”

He cackled, “Sun Tzu! What does Cupid need ‘The Art of War’ for?!”

What, did he expect you to only read romance novels and Roman mythos? “You can’t make a shadow without light. In fact,” you put the book down, “The Greeks thought Cupid was a child of War and Beauty.”

Okay well, Greek mythos is a little different than their Roman counterpart’s. So. There.

Alastor watched you leaning over the arm of the chair, no sign of pain as you did so. Your injury must have mended well. “Do you have parents?” He asked, genuinely wondering how your kind were created.

“No, we're just… made. And then sent off on assignments.”

“You must be terribly busy, just one person for all of earth.” If Alastor could pull some limbs and find out more from anyone but you, he would, but unfortunately no one but Vaggie would know anything about you and he had a feeling her time in heaven was never spent thinking about love.

“Oh, actually not so much! When I’m with humans I can travel around without worrying about the concept of time at all. But it takes a toll.” Or so you were told. There were never two Cupids at one time so you couldn’t really ask your predecessors. Alastor’s brows rose, unsure how exactly a Cupid could be taxed if they didn’t feel pain and couldn’t be hurt. “Every trip to Earth weakens us. Until our bodies just, I guess, give out.” A smile crept across your face, unsure what expression you were supposed to be making.

“Is it just Earth? Or,” he lowered the radio volume with just a glance, “Every time you leave heaven?” It would take a great effort to not notice the weight suddenly blanketing the library. Silence was heavy with what he was really asking you. Would remaining here kill you?

It was a great question. Wow he’s really good at this. It almost seemed like he gave a shit. No one had ever asked you about your creation, about your work. It was nice. Even from him. Maybe especially from him.

You had never been to hell, so you couldn’t be sure, but, “I think it’s a human-world time-thing. But I guess we’ll find out!” Another misplaced smile before you awkwardly leaned back and picked up the book.

While you hadn’t noticed the slip up you had made, Alastor had. “I suppose we will.”

You would find out, because you wouldn’t be returning to heaven. He was glad you, even if unconsciously, understood that. And perhaps you could live forever if you never returned to earth.

When the song ended, you offered one of your own.

Alastor was pleasantly surprised to hear you request Nat King Cole’s ‘It’s almost like being in love’.

Standing, he offered you his hand for a dance. “Ugh I hate this cheesy shit.” You said it but stood anyway, putting your hands in his.

Alastor laughed, swaying side to side, “Not a fan of romance? Has Cupid never been in love?”

Those were two seperate things. How could you explain? “Drug dealers number one rule. Never get high off your own supply. That would be—.”

Lonely. Pathetic.

“A bad idea.” His cheek rested on your head. It was a shockingly tender act. “Can you understand? Why would I want something I made. What’s special about that?”

“And what of true love? It isn’t made by you, yes?” Asked into your hair.

“Yeah but when will I ever find the time to make a connection worthwhile. Winners and Angels are gluttons for choice, I am obviously built for a fun time not a long time.” Which you were…fine with. Yeah. I mean, what choice did you have? “And I don’t want to force it…so…” you trailed off. The rest didn’t matter.

He nodded, suppressing another laugh. “I see. Well, allow me to give you something you inspired, how about that? Not made. Would you say no, my muse?”

Inspired? Like a song? “Ha, what have I inspired in you, heathen.”

Alastor stopped dancing, his hand pulling your face up for a kiss which took you by surprise.

“Seriousl-,” Husk mercifully disappeared in a flash of neon green.

You couldn’t remember exactly how it happened, much like many of the moments you surrendered to Alastor. It was so fast and he was so strong, his hands large and confident in how they moved you. Before you knew it you were bent over the sofa’s arm getting fucked so hard your leg was shaking and your stomach nauseous.

This was much better than songs or art or whatever you inspired in others. You were gasping with every breath, the action somehow heightening the sensations. The little huffs and groans your body was pulling from him had your heart racing.

His cock was smashing your womb into your guts, the entire organ suddenly feeling like a new pleasure spot. Every jolt to your cervix made a novel kind of bliss pool in your stomach.

You cried, head empty as he completely left your heat before bottoming out again, “Stop, Alastor. Stop.” A strained moan, hands gripping the wooden sofa arm, “stop, stop, fuuuuck.”

He was pulling out too far and too fast, hitting back too hard and too deep. Your cunt felt swollen around him, your entrance so soft and wet he didn’t need precision to sink back in.

“Does it hurt?” He said quickly on the down beat of his thrust.

“Nngh no.”

“Theeen, no.”

Alastor pulled you up by your chin, back bending as he titled your mouth to his. Despite your mouth hanging open with your tongue out as salacious as you’d ever been, you told him, “I really don’t kiss during sex.”

The look in his downcast eyes sent a shiver along your spine, a power there you couldn’t push against, “You do now, my dear.”

When in hell, you supposed. You didn’t even try to argue, accepting his tongue wrapping around yours and exploring your mouth while his dick churned up your insides. Full from top to bottom. Full of Alastor. Safe. Wanted. Needed.

You pulled away when there was an overwhelming bone-deep sensation spilling through your hips and down your thighs. The muscles felt weak there, and you had an urge to runaway from it but Alastor held you still.

A scream of ecstasy as both legs shook violently, you finally got your hands free orgasm but to your shock it didn’t stop. As it appeared to wane, it just started mounting again. By the third roll, Alastor came with a push so deep your chest fell over the arm of the sofa. If not for the hands bruising your hips, you would have fallen off entirely.

The ache in your stomach began immediately, you’d have thought someone had been punching you in the gut. Well, more literally than they had been. When you groaned and complained to Alastor about what he had done, he pulled you up by your waist.

You were drawn into him, back to his chest again with your body between those long legs. His hands came to your stomach. Alastor massaged deep circles into your abdomen.

“Does that help?” His high voice lowered, husky and kind into your ear. You nodded, the pressure relieved the discomfort.

You wondered if he was used to taller demons than your shorter heavenly form, or perhaps he wasn’t used to anyone at all. Maybe sinners had more room than you did.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you. Believe it or not,” probably not, “I’m never trying to hurt you.”

Was it terrible you actually did believe him? Yes he was a serial killer, and considered one of the most cruel overlords in recent memory. But he was always gentle when his hands were on you. Flits of memories of him washing your feet came back to you.

“I know perhaps,” his hands kept moving, your back already stuck to his with well earned sweat, “I have at times been easily incensed.”

You nodded quickly.

“But, It’s just,” you heard him swallow hard, “ah I absolutely hate this,” He whispered it to himself. “I’m just scared you’ll leave before I’ve managed to convince you how much happier I can make you here.”

It’s not that it was funny, necessarily, but the very idea hell could be happier than Heaven was laughable. It was Heaven. It was made to be happy. It existed purely to please.

The smile faded from your face. Well, for the winners. It was made to please the winners. It wasn’t made for you, but you still got much enjoyment. You had…sex. Great sex. Not held aloft in a radio tower great, but…You always came. Everyone did. Wasn’t that the point of it?

Wasn’t that the point?

What was the point?

A warm and lonely bed is better than an empty one alone. So.

Well, your bed was always warm and never lonely in hell now that you’d been “moved”.

You had… Hobbies. You liked swimming.

Okay well the hotel had a pool. And yes, if you weren’t running off to earth on command you’d have more energy for hobbies.

What were you thinking about this for again?

You gathered the scraps of your relevant thoughts, “Happiness isn’t being confined to a hotel, Alastor.”

“As soon as you show me you won’t leave me, I won’t care where you go. As long as you’re safe.” One of his hands left your stomach to stroke your cheek, “I’m just waiting for you to realize what I already know.”

If Alastor were to ease his grip on you, could you enjoy yourself? Well, more than you did. But it was more than that, you had to admit you hated the idea of losing, of just running away. “I don’t like giving up.”

His laugh was quiet but it rocked you as his chest moved. “Darling they threw you to hell and told you you’re not allowed to leave unless you do homework. Giving up what? Being a servant to heaven?”

If he had said it a couple weeks prior, you would have left the room indignant. But now, settled against his hot skin and being so softly touched, it sounded like tough love.

“I don’t belong here though.” You were talking to yourself. So many excuses.

His arms wrapped around your chest to hug you into him, “You belong wherever I am.” His cheek pressed against yours, “I won’t let you go.”

A threat. A threat you leaned into and warmed yourself with. A threat a quiet part of you hoped he kept his word on.

You were getting too comfortable. Every morning you woke up to Alastor curled into your body, holding you tightly to him and you found yourself smiling before your consciousness clicked on. At some point in the last week he grabbed your chin and kissed you good night and suddenly every time he left your side you allowed a kiss to your cheek before he parted. What was worse was how you’d talk in bed about your recent reads and what happened the few hours you weren’t with each other.

The thing that made you realize you were getting honestly too deep was when you went to go to bed early and actually took the elevator past your floor, walked all the way to his station and told him good night. You’d made it to his chair and were leaning down for your kiss when your face fell flat.

He asked what was wrong but you shook your head. A poorly faked smile offered to him.

You sat in your bed. His bed. Your bed?

You sat in bed and wondered how to press forward. Two months, nearly, you’d been in hell. At this rate surely heaven had made a replacement. If you could make it back quickly you could still keep your place.

A decision was made, you’d never confronted Alastor head on. You had misunderstood his illusion of you. But maybe if you just forced it into his thick skull he’d been controlled and puppeted by an arrow, not his free will, he would abandon it to save his pride.

Knees to your chest, why were you crying again? Did you want to go home?

No, you wanted to curl into his stupid fucking lap and listen to him hum his stupid old, forgotten songs. You wanted to dance while Husk groaned and rolled his eyes. You wanted to feel loved.

But you weren’t made to want things. And Alastor didn’t love you.

Okay, one more night to enjoy yourself before you pissed him off so much he kicked you out of his bed. Or took such a turn into obsession he never let you leave the room again, allowing you to shirk responsibility for not returning to heaven.

When you turned the handle there was resistance, the door pushing in.

“Alastor? Done already?” He’d seemed busy earlier.

He closed the door and locked it. Oh. A blush. The sound of a locking door had come to mean certain things to you.

“You seemed bothered.” His thumb wiped where your tears had already dried, “What ever is the problem? Did someone upset you? Some neck I should wring?” You shook your head no. His other hand came to join in holding your face, those goddamned red eyes melting you to nothing, “Some limbs I should snap?” He took a step toward you and you took two back, hands holding his wrists. Another no. “Or some cheeks I should kiss?”

Stop crying.

An eager nod. “Don’t cry, my love.” Soft lips catching your tears, thin fingers wiping them away. He kept walking forward and you kept walking back until your legs hit the bed.

One more night, just in case. In case he forfeits the mania.

You kissed his neck, startling him. “Rare form. Did you need some more intimate attention, darling?” You tried to avoid initiating, never knowing what he wanted or when, never wanting to enjoy his touch too much. “I could indulge you.”

What you wanted was to be reduced so thoroughly to just a physical creature by way of pleasure that your mind disconnected from your brain. Fucked dumb, as people said. Alastor wouldn’t know what that meant but you were confident he’d enjoy sussing out the finer details of the meaning if it meant your full surrender.

You bit down on his neck, getting you pushed onto the bed in return. “I need overindulgence. I don’t wanna feel anything tonight but you.” You should practice your manners, for heaven's sake. “Please.”

There it was again. That look that turned your bones to jelly and your brain to cotton; that downcast half lidded stare as he towered over you that promised to devour you whole. His hand pulled at his bow tie and loosened his collar, knees on the bed as his legs spread you open at the thighs.

“Good girl.”

No punishment or inspiration, just that mental numbness that turned off all your worries. We’re you making stupid faces? We’re your sounds embarrassing? Didn’t matter. You didn’t care. You clung to his body like you’d fall apart without his skin on yours. Because you would, in some fashion.

Every gap between your bodies felt like room for doubt. So you filled them with flesh and sighs and moans.

With his height difference you were smothered by him when in traditional heaven-approved missionary, but you liked lying on top. Your head only made it to his chest when your hips were positioned above his cock. You could go slack and let him move you on and off himself. You had been lying when you said you preferred to not move or make noise, but you’d learned he got harder and more feral when you let him manipulate your body any way he pleased.

He smelled like sweat and leather, probably from the chairs in the lobby. No one sweats in heaven, this seemed like a mistake now. You’d have to be sure to not wash your clothes after you left hell, or else you’d forget his scent.

After finishing, he was surprised to find you still clinging to his torso, arms under his armpits and hooked onto his shoulders. He offered to pull out and let you lie down but you just held on tighter in response. He glanced around the room, soft light and softer music on the radio. Your quiver and bow rested against the armoire, practically dusty. He asked if you were alright, a hand coming to your back with large claws gently scratching.

“Yeah I will be.” you lifted your head, waiting.

Both of his eyebrows rose, unsure what you were waiting on.

Complete surrender. “Good night kiss.” You had to stretch to meet his lips before settling back into his chest, “okay bore me to sleep with your day, sinner.” He gladly did, you falling asleep yet again to the sound of his slow heartbeat and the rumble of his words.

You awoke nauseous, already knowing your day was going to fucking suck and it’d be your own fault. The idea of approaching Alastor and initiating the conversation felt impossible, your feet became stone when you thought of it.

The coward’s option. Wait for time alone and then pace the library until he came to find you.

After an hour or so he did, smile brightening as he entered. “Should I summon the bar?”

You shook your head no, struggling to speak. He sat in his chair, book still on the small side table.

Heart pounding, you considered doing this another day or week or maybe year but knew you’d already lost so much time. “Alastor, I need to talk to you about my task.”

He snapped the book shut, eyes not leaving his hands. “Oh?”

“I need to leave the hotel or at least need serious time alone with someone. I need to change someone’s heart on true love. I can’t go home—,” you were cut off, Alastor standing quickly.

“Home?”

“Alastor.” You stood your ground even as his spine stretched and antlers widened.

“Your home is wherever I am.” A pained smile now, something akin to hurt in his eyes that did damage to you too. “Ah. So last night— and people say I’m cruel.”

“I’m not supposed to be here!”

A snap, his anger and desperation eclipsing his pain, “Why don’t you ever listen-,”

Your turn to cut him off, “Because you’re under a spell! You act so fucking tough like you’re in control all the time. But you’re not! It’s just the effect of the arrow.”

He laughed, but you kept going, “Don’t act like you’re sooo strong you can fight the effects of my shot. You don’t fucking love me. Not really, not naturally. It was an accident. You’re just— it’s been made by me. I don’t want it. I want something real and true.”

“My feelings are true, just let me speak. I can make you understand if you’d just listen to me.” Pupils like pins, teeth somehow sharper.

“Alastor you can’t have true love. Nothing triggered by my arrows can ever be true.”

Another ring of laughter, “Tell me then how your true love is different than mine, Oh Wise Cupid.”

You huffed, “Don’t talk down to me, radio demon. True love means caring deeply for someone else that occupies your heart and mind-,” he opened his mouth, looking around the room for where you found the audacity but you snapped twice to get his attention back, “not just that! You put them first without fear because if they truly love you they would never take advantage of that. It’s trusting them with the most fragile parts of yourself. It's a best friend. Someone who makes you feel like a better version of you, makes you want to always be improving yourself.”

Alastor was still smug, staring at you from his unnervingly demonic height, “Lovely! Last question, expert, is true love ever one sided?”

You thought for a beat, “It can be.”

He hummed, body swiftly resuming his smaller but, again, still too tall scale, antlers remaining fierce as his sinister smile dropped to just a small upward turn of his lips. “I see. You’ve truly enlightened me. I believe you.” The sarcasm wasn’t lost on you.

You rolled your eyes and licked your lips to go off when a portal opened beside you.

Heaven was just beyond the shining circle.

You looked from Alastor to the circular doorway, taking small steps towards it. Your hand pressed through, confusion wiping your own smugness off your face.

Alastor began a mocking slow clap. “I’ve been convinced. Happy now? Task complete.”

“But- the love Mania causes…It clouds the mind, you can’t even process the idea of true love properly.” You searched the floor for some clarity.

His hands stopped, eyebrows meeting his bangs as a laugh that started typically but quickly morphed into maniacal filled the room. You just kept pushing your hand in and out of the portal. Alastor finally quieted, antlers fully drawn back into little prongs. He stared at you. A shiver as his smile reached his ears. That look again. You took a deep breath, ready to be eaten.

“Your little arrow didn’t pierce me, you glorious fool. It literally fell into my pocket. I was never under the effects of your magic. I said that many times.” He straightened out his suit jacket, “Very plainly, might I add. You just never listened to me. So sure you knew better than I did.”

You sputtered, too many thoughts trying to express themselves, “Why did you act like that then?!”

“Because I wanted you. Something something first sight, as I recall the adage goes.” He crossed his arms and looked at his claws, “Perhaps my love happens to be manic by default. I am a murderous overlord, darling.”

All the energy left your body, shoulders relaxing. “Oh.”

“So, here I am,” he opened his arms, “trusting you to not hurt me any further today. Does that fall into your narrow view of true love?”

A good question. You shifted your weight onto your other foot, looking back at heaven. You could see the shining gates.

He sighed and brought his arms down, “I can’t promise how long I’ll let you stand there and look at anything other than me.”

A warning.

A deep breath, another shift onto your other foot again as you shook the anxiety out of your hands before finally making eye contact with him, “Well, eldritch horror, prove it.”

You heard the door lock from across the room.

You decided heaven could wait. It took about two days before they seemed to notice you hadn’t entered the portal, which closed on its own some time between Alastor pushing you onto the floor and you begging him for more. Luckily St. Peter wasn’t privy to your escapades.

It was a fact Sera was aware you had completed your task, because a knock came to the library door on that second day after you did so. Entering without waiting for a reply, which was brave, Lucifer and his hat popped into the room.

“Heeeey giiiirl. I got a message from heaven asking what’s the hold up, worried you were incapacitated.”

From your seat in Alastor’s lap you lowered your book, “How nice of them to suddenly care about my well-being.” You brought the book back up, “Little late.”

He nodded, “Uh huh, uh huh. Yeah I can understand that. Sooo,” his fingers tapped the door, “What should I reply with?”

Alastor turned the page and hummed a reply, “Finders Keepers.”

ᡣ𐭩ˋ°•*⁀➷ masterlist

∰ Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult (general tag list):

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @wettiny-in-smutland , @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog , @coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum ,

@ivebeenthearchersstuffn, @rubyninja1 , @simphornies , @alleystore , @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog , @thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies , @howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , @ive-no-idea-what-to-call-this , @fizzled-phoenix , @fjorjestertealeaf , @phobophobular , @surusurusuru , @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 , @whateverlololo , @simplyonehellofanotaku , @xixflower , @i-am-nonbinary-bean-deal-with-it , @roxxie-wolf , @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 , @watereddownmilk , @raynerrold , @crazii-saber-wolf , @valkyrie-expeditions , @bontensbabygirl , @sillyb0nez , @oo0lady-mad0oo , @jazzmasternot , @pseudobun , @fraugwinska✨, @alitaar , @straows , @alastorssimp , @angelicwillows , @b-o-n-e-daddy , @one-and-only-tay , @asleeponelmstreet , @tremendoushearttaco , @mutifandomkid , @sapphirecaelis , @itzzzkiramylove @saccharine-nectarine , @viannasthings , @looking1016 , @ultimate-duck-king-lucifer , @blakeaha , @astraechos , @reath-solia ,

🏹Alastor stalkers: @celestial-vomit , @amurtan

@faeoffaith , sailorsmouth , @jeannyjaykaydeh , @jyoongim , @cosmic-lavender , @saturn-alone , @lustylita , @radio-darling , @kaylopolis , @dickmastersworld , @leviskittywh0re

@asianfrustration13 @alittletiredcry @sirens-and-moonflowers @alastorssimp

@sugurubabe , @zzzykiek , @phamtasic

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meikoo · 9 days

Text

˚₊ · »-♡→ Week 1 and Week 2

˚₊ · »-♡→Week 3 and Week 4 smut💦 (keep reading)

Alastor lets you leave the hotel! Together! For soup. Later, your plans to make Alastor lose his obsession backfire. But like, in a hot way so you’re not that mad about it. A+ for effort?

˚₊ · »-♡→Week 5, Week 6, Week 7, and Epilogue smut💦

「warnings/promises: smut, I once again misuse a fucking prayer in a sacrilegious way, soup, spoon feeding, Angel texts, so much cum, bondage, tentacles, just good ole fashion fucking in the radio station, not quite dubcon but Alastor doesn’t really listen, hell has twitter and lets be real it’s just normal twitter, giant Alastor, Horse Luci」

Minors DNI ♥️ 🧹lovingly

You finally managed to leave the hotel. It was of course with Alastor at your side, microphone pressing into the small of your back like a third arm. It was as if he worried you’d just turn around and run.

He opened every door, pulled out your chair, and when your left hand shook and dropped your food he took on the task of feeding you. It was embarrassing, to say the very least. The sinners in the restaurant staring, a brave few filming or typing furiously on their phones.

You got a buzz on your own cell, a gift from Angel when he realized Alastor wouldn’t let you speak with others alone.

He texted a link to a post on some hell site, to a photo of you right then, at that exact moment, being spoon fed by the radio demon. You considered smashing your head into the table until you blacked out. If you got up and left would you make it back to the hotel before someone realized you weren’t a sinner? You were absolutely terrified of someone noticing you as heaven sent.

Heaven kicked? Heaven thrown. Yeah that one felt right.

“You need to eat. You can’t heal like this.” Alastor sounded concerned, but you fought the urge to care.

He hadn’t apologized to Husk, but Husk did say Alastor seemed to avoid eye contact which was basically a gift to him. Alastor had come to your room to dress you the next day as he always did, neither of you mentioning the day before. The hall was magically pristine by the time you left.

A tiny sliver of you thought he felt embarrassed. But decades of experience told you that Mania didn’t afford embarrassment, the stricken couldn’t be truly manic if something like that was holding them back.

Maybe it had been such a shallow cut he hadn’t gotten the full punch of Mania?

Another attempt to feed yourself, slowly bringing your spoon to your mouth, “You know when I heal I am going to finish my task and leave, right?”

An odd laugh, a non-existent tear wiped away, “Adorable. No. I promise you, that won’t happen.”

“Alastor.” You put the spoon down with a clink.

“I love when you say my name. May I offer you more reasons to hold it in your mouth?”

“Al-,” you groaned, “I can’t stay forever.”

He hummed, a show of pretending to think about what you said, “Wrong! You can. And I argue, you will.”

You tried again with the spoon, regretting soup. Your appetite had been shot for awhile and it seemed easy enough. Wrong. Again. There was a constant tremble to your hands since arriving. Perhaps experiencing pain for the first time was rattling your body so much that it couldn’t cope. “Why would I ever do that? This is literal hell.”

Alastor leaned over, taking the spoon from you with ease and bringing it to your mouth, “Because I’ll make you understand it’s where you belong. They didn’t appreciate you,” his grin widened, “Not like I do. Like I can, if you’d let me.”

Annoyed and flustered, you took the help to eat. “Thank you.” A spoonful, “How can you say that though? I’m the one and only Cupid.”

“Actually, no. You’re not. You are just the current incarnation. They’ll replace you.”

You regretted telling him that. They could. Just replace you, that is. There was nothing stopping them. You stared into your soup, lips curling down.

“Don’t look so defeated. I’ll make you happy, for eternity.”

Your eyes rolled. “When do you plan on starting that eternal happiness?”

You didn’t look at him when you said it, but you could see his hand slow, then become completely still. Had you wounded him?

He pivoted, “Doesn’t Cupid have wings?”

Another spoonful, “Of course.”

Alastor waited while you took a drink, determined to make you eat the entire bowl, “Where are they?”

A pause. Where were they? You hadn’t realized you couldn’t feel them. They weren’t everpresent, but their weight still sat between your shoulder blades at all times. Always. Normally. But now?

“You don’t know? That’s troubling.” Alastor read your face with ease.

You shot him a look. Stop doing that. Stop replying to unspoken thoughts.

“Apologies.”

Another text before you could snap at him.

You slid the phone away from Alastor, face red. “Do you think, honestly, if you’re capable of it, that I’ll ever be able to go home?”

His hand came to your neck, running over your collarbone, “For the record, I’ve never once lied to you.” You rolled your eyes, fine, okay, “With your heavenly body, even as weakened as you have been here, I’d say just a few more weeks.”

You turned the phone face down.

“Good…that’s good. If you plan on winning me over, your countdown has started.” You pushed the soup away, appetite gone. The idea of never returning to heaven made you nauseous. He slid it back to you, face stern despite the smile he wore.

The walk home was quiet, your stomach full of unwanted soup.

No, not home. The hotel.

He usually spoke a lot, clearly loving the sound of his own voice. His hand replaced the staff, settled on your back as he guided you. You could feel the warmth through your clothes. How could he be so hot and not be sweating? Another sinner thing?

The thought hadn’t left you by the time you came into view of the hotel gates. Maybe you had been replaced. How would you know? Maybe that was why your wings were gone. Surely there was some way to communicate from hell.

You found Lucifer as soon as you returned, unbothered by Alastor’s presence, “I need to speak to heaven.”

Alastor was saying something but you had gotten quite good at tuning him out. Lucifer snapped back, the men quickly devolving into arguing again.

“Lucifer.” You said it with your chest.

His apple topped cane whirled, a golden circle appearing with a crystal clear image of heaven’s glowing gates through its center.

A loud noise erupted behind you, a high pitched static wail, familiar tentacles flailed and a long shadow of a growing Alastor stretched across the wall. His back was bent into the lobby ceiling, perhaps three stories tall now.

The sounds of magic popping as Lucifer shapeshifted accented the sounds of horror with that of whimsy. You approached the portal, those black tendrils slithering around your ankles but you easily slipped out of them as their owner's energy was pulled to full demon Lucifer slamming into him.

Almost, you could see it.

A monstrously large hand came down, shaking the hotel and knocking various objects off their perches in the lobby. Charlie and Vaggie, someone else you’d come to enjoy the company of, flew down the stairs.

The common area was filled with the sounds of yelling and breaking glass. You crawled over his hand as Alastor’s fingers curled around your body gingerly. He tried to pull you from the gateway but while he slowed, Lucifer now a flying horse kicking him in the face, your outstretched hand strained to enter the portal.

Your fingers grazed the doorway, the air around the lobby fizzing and warping as a desperate screech tore from Alastor’s wide and impossibly thin chest. The grip tightened around you. A static whine threatened to pop your eardrums.

As your fingertips pressed past the ring, they stopped. Something impenetrable and unseen between you and heaven.

Alastor must have noticed it too, his grip loosening as you clamored on hand and knees to the portal. Your palm ran over the doorway, searching for a hole or seam to rip. Just under your skin was your home, bright and clean and painless. A tiny ‘no’ fell from your lips, smacking at the barrier with your open hand.

Alastor returned to his normal, still terrifying, height. Lucifer came forward, their fight losing motivation, his small hand on your shoulder as you sat on the hotel lobby floor. He closed the portal and apologized, “Sorry kid. Let’s try again when you finish that task, okay?”

Alastor’s arms went under your back and knees and lifted you off the ground. You didn’t resist or argue. Your eyes were unfocused, vision blurry with tears, as you were carried past the others. Vaggie looked ashamed, which was odd given she had more character than half the archangels could muster together between them.

There existed permissions for who could enter the heavenly realm, a list meticulously kept. They’d removed you from that roster. They’d locked the doors behind you.

You felt good. The final week of your first, and hopefully last, month in hell was marked with taking off your sling for the first time.

A good three day wallow in a metaphorical cave helped you emerge with renewed vigor. Of course they locked the gates behind you, otherwise you’d just go home. That made sense. That made sense.

That had to make sense.

Deciding to take a risk and attempt to expedite your homecoming, you and Angel made plans. Like a teenager in a party movie you snuck out of the hotel when Alastor was asleep. Well, so you assumed. You weren’t really sure what he did behind closed doors.

Angel brought you somewhere he felt people would be receptive to discussing love and talking to angelic beings, and admittedly also very high.

Sling off but still being as gentle as you could, you leaned across the small standing-only table to talk-shout with a rather cute aquatic demon. An eel? Or maybe some kind of water-fond lizard? It didn’t matter, his glasses were cute, both of you a little drunk, and you quite good at saying the right things.

And all of the right things were said, and you felt maybe if nothing else you’d enjoy your first demonic lay, when the power shut off.

Everyone filed out, bummed and bothered to find most of the neighborhood shrouded in darkness.

Angel tapped your shoulder and pointed up the hill to the hotel, radio station a glow with a red light, “Ya know, I wouldn’t be surprised.” Nothing to do but to stare, you stayed quiet and angry while he flagged down a taxi knowing the trip would be fast without traffic lights, “Guess Daddy Dead Eyes is calling you back.”

Anger grew and grew in your chest as you were charioted home.

Jesus, to the hotel. Stop doing that.

You burst into the radio station tower, Alastor barely reacting. Until, that is, you marched up to his desk.

Pinned before you could react, his body pressing into yours as your ass ran up onto the desk.

“Sneaking out like a child?” His voice was low, soft, unnatural. “Why do you intentionally torment me?”

“I have done,” you tried to move but only succeeded in rubbing your stomach against his crotch, “no such thing. You’re just possessed.”

He responded by pressing forward, no accident, as his eyes narrowed on you, “Correct. I am a man possessed.” When he rolled himself into you, an alcohol primed groan escaped your mouth.

“I thought you didn’t care about those things,” your eyes flashed to his lap pushing into you and then back to his glare.

“You’re my exception that proves the rule. If you’re so desperate for attention there’s no need to leave the hotel to find it.” His smile was poisoned by the simmering anger in his eyes, “Dear.”

It was the alcohol and annoyance at losing a chance with glasses-man, Jake or Jark or something not worth a scrabble move, that made you sneer a reply, “Not yours. I am a divine creature, demon. Your body would just filthy me.” Nose up, feeling absolutely better than him in every sense, you pushed him off and left.

That was easy. Wow.

Proud of yourself, you made it to the elevator before you realized— illusions. Perhaps his illusion was the idea sex with you was worth the effort, more so than others. He said it himself before, he didn’t care for such things. Perhaps if you could show him it was as boring and unattractive as sex with anyone else could be, maybe you could shatter his mania with disappointment.

You pulled a u-turn and heel-toed right back into his station. Giving him no time to react this time, you climbed onto his chair and straddled him, “On second thought, try your worst. Let’s get it out of your system and move on.” You ground your hips down. He only smiled up at you, amused. Taking his hands you set them on your waist, giving him permission to handle you, “Claim me. Make everyone know I’m yours.” He didn’t move. You were starting to feel embarrassed, had he goaded you just to make you look stupid? He would. But your kind invented the tension before sex between enemies, “If you can.”

That did it. His hair visibly stood on end, “It is not a matter of ability. It’s about-”

“If you can’t, that’s fine. No need to start lying to me now. But don’t say I never gave you the opportunity.” You smirked, hoping he enjoyed a taste of his own sardonic medicine, and lifted yourself off of him.

His hands came to life on your hips, helping you rise and then flipping you onto your stomach. Your arms pushed radio transmitters and various old timey fuckery away to make room for yourself.

Those talons slipped up the center of your bottoms and crooked into your underwear. Long and strong, his fingers felt you. “Is this a perk of a heavenly body or is this,” two fingers dipped into your already wet and relaxed entrance, “all for me?”

You fought the urge to respond with anything other than malice, “Don’t flatter yourself.”

In heaven no one needs preparation, no one needs lube or required stretching to keep things whole and fun. You would love to say that quality followed you down, but unfortunately, like perfect health and angelic wings, it had not.

You decided to chalk it up to the alcohol. Always an easy excuse to offer yourself.

Alastor’s hands pulled away and up, finding the place just above the Rosie’s Emporium clothing tag and ripping the bottoms and underwear clean in half.

You bit into your hand to keep your excited shriek to yourself but unfortunately couldn’t stop your legs kicking up. His laugh echoed off the many windows.

Why couldn’t he be worse at this? Why couldn’t Alastor be clumsy and meek and awkward at sex? No, the menace you’d gotten almost used to was confident and commanding, you felt yourself twitching in anticipation. People have a misconception that Cupid was a chaste and wholly emotional creature, which was false. First of all, Cupids varied based on the incarnation. Just like other heavenly creatures their personality was varied and unpredictable.

Personally, you weren’t suited for the job. If you were honest. Why couldn’t your quiver just be full of Eros and Agape? Even of those two, sexual love was more your speed. Romance was fine and lovely but perhaps you’d gotten a little jaded.

Luckily for you, fucking Cupid was something many winners had on their afterlife bucket lists and you rarely found yourself with an empty bed.

Your attention was stolen back, Alastor’s clawed hand grabbing at the flesh of your thighs, “Oops.”

Focus. Why were you doing this again? Your system was metabolizing the alcohol now, and with the air cooling off your exposed sex, everything was awash with lust. Did you want to diminish his mania or were you just horny?

Would it really be so bad to admit you were both?

Deep breath, you remembered. Boring. Banal. The plan was to be motionless and not provide him any satisfying sounds. Don’t touch him, don’t try to push back on him, no tricks or fancy shit. The sooner he was over this you could make someone trust in love and fuck off home.

Seconds turned to a minute, your ass in the air as Alastor’s hands pawed at your skin. You wanted to ask what the hold up was, but you didn’t want to give away how much you were needing him to just fuck you already.

“Do you miss flying?”

You looked around, were you so drunk you missed an entire chunk of conversation while thinking about how to hide thirsting for his dick?

“Yes…?” True statement.

“Allow me to help with that.”

There was a moment you half expected to be chucked out the window, but almost worse than that, you heard him seat himself in the chair again before your body was picked up and off the desk. “Alastor! I don’t-,” Hands flailing, feet moving around the best they could, you struggled against the familiar tentacles he had command over. “I do not allow it!”

Your hands batted at them fruitlessly. One came under your knees and folded them to either side of your chest before wrapping around your waist twice, a second across your chest like a seatbelt snug and secure. Had you been on the floor you could almost be mistaken for taking a deeply devout praying stance. Only your arms were free to move, the position making you open and incapable of taking back any semblance of control.

“Alastor!” Stretching, you could almost reach the edge of his work table, but your fingers and toes curled in as you were seated on something hot and stiff. Your lips quivered, desperate to keep silent as you were pulled down onto him. Reaching back your hands found his stomach, raking your nails across the skin in need of anything to grip.

When you heard him chuckle to himself, you knew you were already losing. Plan backfiring entirely. You pulled your hands back to your center, taking ahold of the tentacle nestled between and across your chest.

“Heavenly Father,” his voice was quiet but sure, your eyes so wide you worried you’d get stuck making a permanent face of utter shock and despair, “bless us and these thy gifts which we receive from thy bountiful goodness, through your name, our lord.” You were lifted off his lap, Alastor’s swollen tip dragging along your unstretched walls as he said the Lord's prayer, “Amen.” Pulled back down before the second syllable even reached your ears, you cut into your bottom lip as a scream bounced around behind your teeth.

Heathen.

“I would think you of all people knew how to finish a prayer.” Alastor chided, “What will heaven say?”

If heaven knew you were being impaled midair on an overlord’s cock, they’d create a second hell for you to rule. Population of none. Except maybe some horny nuns.

As he found a pace he seemed happy with, slow and long draws out of you, you realized how fucked you were. Looking down, you could see one of his hands was settled at the base of his cock, those long fingers draped down his balls. The other hand was unseen and unfelt.

“Alastor.” You tried to sound stern.

“Oh I doubt heaven knows my name. Not yet at least.” He sounded unbothered, almost unaffected. “Not until I’ve spirited away their little angel of love.”

You were almost insulted at how easily he could speak despite being buried so far into your wet, hot cunt. Maybe you had been spoiled in heaven, people usually so turned on by the idea of you that they were coming undone as soon as you were wrapped around them or in them in whatever way you decided.

A broken chant of “be bored, be bored,” in your mind as Alastor hummed, that mystery clawed hand falling at your back. Biting your lip, you tried to think about anything other than how full he was making you. Did the glasses man at the club have a cock as thick as Alastor’s? Would you have been as satisfied as you were now? Every down thrust made the tuft of fur at this base press against your ass. Soft. You wanted to grind against it, the idea pulling a wanton moan out.

Fuck. Failing to distract yourself because you got distracted. It was so hard to think about anything else than your body being pushed open again and again. The blood on your lips was sweet, licking them clean before finding a new spot to bite down on. Quiet.

“Ah, are you giving me the silent treatment?”

Could this son of a bitch read minds? Could sinners read minds?!

If you didn’t reply, that was confirmation. But if you did reply, you were breaking your goal of not talking.

“Just…,” you took a deep sigh, knowing this was going to be rough, “I’m not really feeling like making any noise.” A shrug, the best you could manage at least while bound and held aloft in the space above his lap. Pretending this was normal and boring was a feat. “I’m not a vocal person during sex. I prefer to just lie there and get serviced. Don’t mind me.”

That sounded awful. Perfect.

“Oh? Well then, I guess I’ll not worry myself.” You could hear the smile in his voice. Less perfect. He began to hum a little tune as your body, partially upright, was now being tilted forward at a 45 degree angle from his lap. His cock was bending in you, head pressing harshly up into your walls.

Heart beating so fast you felt a dizzy spell hit you, that renewed anticipation almost as arousing as the sensations.

His humming continued like he was reading the paper. You’d never ridden a roller coaster, but you’d seen many people do it before and this was surely the same feeling; right at the peak before the drop. When the ride operator stills you and lets you stare down at the height before you. Your stomach was flipping, excitement tinged with fear.

You were pulled off his dick until you felt the bell of his red tip get just outside your entrance. Was he going to pull out entirely?

No. He pulled you down by way of shadows and fucked you just a couple inches into your cunt. His head was dragging out past your tight hole and smashing back in, directly hitting your g-spot. The spongy bundle of nerve endings was dented with every thrust.

You weren’t used to having your entrance stimulated so much, the skin luckily becoming slick as your own wetness was fucked out of you.

“That feels weird, please.” How quickly you gave up. “Stop pulling out like that.”

A considerate sigh, “But you’ve gotten so wet, my dear. You’re dripping down my thighs already. I don’t think you want me to stop.”

Could you cum like this? You felt like you could, maybe if you just…you quickened your breath, faster and faster. Your stomach heaving, you felt the crescendo of pleasure.

“On second thought!” He stopped.

Your toes wiggled, hands gripping the tentacle on your chest. Quiet. Shh. Don’t argue. Boring. Don’t care. The building orgasm waned, you felt your blood pressure lower. This really was hell.

Alastor’s head was just sitting in you, burning hot and throbbing. You were sure you could feel his heartbeat.

You two were locked in a standoff. Someone had to let on they were enjoying themselves; Alastor releasing pent up frustration with your attitude toward his affections, you chasing down a rare penetration-only orgasm.

An idea struck you, a way to hopefully antagonize him and bruise his pride enough to force him into your hand (pussy), “Thank God. I think it’s almost my bedtime.”

Alastor’s smile strained, a twitch coming over his left eye. A trap. But the idea of letting you down and off of him seemed far worse than the small defeat you were offering. “Allow me to rock you to sleep then, sweetheart.”

Success! Shit!

You reached out, the angle of your punishment allowing you to grab the edge of the table and grip. Alastor’s annoyance translated to an inhuman pace, him pulling you off entirely from his cock before bringing you back down. He was positively slipping in and out of you, your lower lips puffy and soaked around him. This degree of wetness was something you couldn’t remember feeling outside of marathon sessions.

When your hands tightened, a shock of pain tore down your arm, a scream bringing Alastor to a sudden stop. “My collar…” Pain was apparently not a kink you enjoyed, though you briefly wondered if heaven allowed it at all.

You couldn’t even fuck properly. You couldn’t do anything right. All you managed to do was fail. A sting to your eyes as the air hit your welling tears. Did humans feel this pain often? Your body was righted and turned, you looked down to Alastor’s face as you were brought to him. He looked so soft, usual smirk a sweet toothless smile, “I told you to keep the sling on, didn’t I?” He looked happy.

Your arms found his shoulders and your head came to his chest, “Shut up and finish already.” He didn’t release you from the binding, instead pulling the right arm under the hold of his slender tendril to keep it safe and out of the way. His hands were both at the base of his cock while you were gently riding him. Well, “you”. He was still using his powers to manipulate your body on and off of him. Alastor’s fingers were spreading your arousal down his shaft and along his tightening balls, if you had looked at his face you’d have seen a weakened man there, furrowed brows and lust drunk eyes. But you didn’t look, trying to hide the same expression on your own features.

Left hand free, no need to hold yourself up, you made lazy, and you hoped subtle, circles around your clit. You weren’t sure if this was a total failure or not, but you could finish and say something good came of it. You, specifically.

Things were quiet, though. The loudest sound in the room was the wet pop coming from where his body was meeting your sopping hole. His breathing was fast and soft, sighing when he bottomed out. Another bite to your lip, a few more deep hits to your cervix, and you enjoyed a small but satisfying release. The hand on you stayed through, riding out tiny waves of pleasure as you twitched around him. When you felt his release you sighed, you did it. You think. Maybe. Regardless.

As he slowly lifted you, you considered if your legs could hold you—

Up you went and back down you fell as he took a new, quicker pace.

“A-Ah-lastor?! You,” you bit your tongue, “already finished?”

You had made a mistake earlier that you hadn’t even realized. But Alastor had been holding it between his sharp teeth, “How many times?”

Absolutely no idea what he was talking about, you gasped out a reply, “What!?”

“How many times should I fill you before you’re too filthy to return to heaven, do you think?” He couldn’t be serious. “Three? Five? You see, the advantage of using my tentacles is that I don't get tired.”

Oh, but he was serious.

The battle was entirely forfeit somewhere around the third time he flooded you with his seed.

“These aren’t the usual screams I enjoy from my studio, but I’m not averse to them.”

When he felt you’d learned whatever lesson you were supposed to be taking in by the pump full, you were finally removed from him. He covered your lower half with his coat around your waist. It would be lying to say you were surprised to find his wide shoulders and small waist wasn’t just an illusion of his well tailored, yet oddly torn, coat. He was annoyingly attractive. Who gave him the right?

Your legs gave out when you tried to stand, warm hands pulling under your armpits to get you back on your feet. As much as you wanted to push him away, you were still a little tipsy and your legs still getting used to full blood flow. His arm held out for you to use for stability, you took it and wobbled silently to the floor you both lived on. Before you left the elevator you looked down and saw a line of white dripping down your inner leg. Took longer than you expected, honestly.

When you turned to the right to go to your door, his arm came around your waist and shepherded you to his room on the left. You shot him a look, asking what he thought he was doing.

He laughed, “Oh, after tonight’s little escapade, you’re moving!” He opened his door and gestured for you to enter, “Welcome home, my dear.”

What was worse than a failure? A catastrophe? This was that.

“Now come on, we need to get you cleaned up.” A hand patted softly at your ass before ushering you inside.

He did just that, wiping you down and undressing you before settling you into his bed. Exhausted and sore, you decided to argue after sleep.

When you awoke, you checked your shredded bottoms for your phone. Nothing.

An answer was found when you mentioned it to Alastor, who asked what you were searching for so early in the morning, “Perhaps someone at that venue you enjoyed has it? Too bad you can’t go back and ask.” He was resting his back against the headboard, you realized he’d unbuttoned his shirt quite a bit. “Oh well!”

How was he always making you scream?

ᡣ𐭩ˋ°•*⁀➷ masterlist

∰ Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult (general tag list):

🏹Alastor stalkers: @celestial-vomit , @amurtan

@faeoffaith , sailorsmouth , @jeannyjaykaydeh , @jyoongim , @cosmic-lavender , @saturn-alone , @lustylita , @radio-darling , @kaylopolis , @dickmastersworld , @leviskittywh0re

@asianfrustration13 @alittletiredcry @sirens-and-moonflowers @alastorssimp

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meikoo · 9 days

Text

I managed to finish this despite, ya know, the aforementioned: (´°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥ω°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥｀)

˚₊ · »-♡→ Week 1 and Week 2 (keep reading)

˚₊ · »-♡→Week 3 and Week 4 smut💦

˚₊ · »-♡→Week 5, Week 6, Week 7, and Epilogue smut💦

「warnings/promises: Alastor x CupidFemReader, broken bones, feet washing, normal sized Luci, you know the outfit in my PFP? You’re wearing that but soft purple and the bottom half is ambiguous because idk baby whatever you feel best in it’s your story, Husk has a bad time, Alastor has a bad time, You have a bad time, Charlie has a great time 👌🏼, not choking」

Minors this one is chill but the next two imma need you to Dni 💋 ♥️ 🧹lovingly

You had made a mistake, yes, but Hell? Really?

Sure, you had dropped an arrow into the water supply of a nunnery which did lead to some unholy behaviors. But! The nuns seemed quite happy. Wasn’t that the point?

Tossing you to Hell through a hastily opened portal was honestly unprofessional. You ended up dropping three stories, upside down, in front of a butcher's shop.

In the seconds between Sera telling you, ‘You can return when you’ve made a sinner believe in true love.’ and Lute kicking you square in the chest through the hell door, you thought it wouldn’t be so hard. True, you couldn’t use your arrows as that wouldn’t be “true love” and also too easy, even gods weak to your shots, but ultimately sinners were still human. Humans were pushovers! Pliable, gentle at their hearts, desiring love and tenderness. How bad could the naughty ones be?

And then you landed shoulder first onto the pavement. It hurt. Things didn’t hurt in heaven…

Your arrows scattered, quiver spilling when you inverted. Wincing, you scrambled to grab as many as were within reach. Your right shoulder was burning, a new sensation.

You counted them by name as you gathered: Eros, Agape, Philia, Pragma, Philautia, Ludus, Storge… panic.

ErosAgapePhiliaPragmaPhilautiaLudusStorge— Mania wasn’t there. Arguably the arrow that caused you the most trouble, the sting of Mania would cause a madness that led to obsessive behaviors, possessiveness, jealousy.

Pulling yourself up, arrows clutched in one hand, the other holding the place near your collar was throbbing, your eyes were frantic in their search.

“What’s this?”

You finally looked up from the sidewalk, a man’s back to you before he turned. Bile rose and burned your throat as he pulled Mania from where it had pierced his chest pocket.

His eyes, shades of red heaven didn’t even entertain, made a simple trip from the arrow's head to your face.

The man went so still you thought for a moment he was a hologram, but you could see the tiniest rise and fall of his chest. A deer facing down a bright light, he remained frozen in place as you began to approach him.

“Excuse my manners, but that’s mine and I really need it back.” Your injured arm moved first and the pain made you see white, a cry so sharp people turned to look. He snapped back to his senses, and with an odd sound you couldn’t quite place, he seemingly disappeared into the ground.

Mania was left behind, shining smugly against the dirty pavement. You didn’t want to make a reach for it, fear flooding you. You’d never felt pain before.

You’d seen it in humans, but never in your existence had you experienced it. Would both arms hurt?

You let the left hand abandon its guarding place and grabbed the errant arrow. Tucking into an alley, you crouched and returned the arrows to their quiver with immense difficulty.

Okay, yes it was Hell but maybe you were a little paranoid. A sense of being watched wouldn't leave you even after you re-emerged from the darkness of the alley.

The enormity of your task set in as you surveyed the area. You, an obviously heavenly creature even without your wings out on display, would need time to make anyone believe in any form of love. Where would you go in the meantime? And now injured for the first time in your life? How long would that need to mend?

Expanding your view, you saw the currently defunct doomsday countdown hovering above the embassy. Perfect, holy ground would atleast keep you safe for the night, which was falling with a malignant speed.

They couldn’t have given you some time to change? Or pack a set of clothes? Your short sleeved button up a (literally) glowing shade of white was attracting too much attention, golden sandals now cloudy from various fluids across Pentagram city’s streets. Your heart shaped overalls a powdered purple, you looked like an adult child among a sea of very tired professionals.

When you got to the embassy you only had one good arm to open the heavy doors, which unfortunately didn’t budge. Perhaps you needed two? Trying to muster up some adrenaline, you began to pant. Deep breaths like the women in labour you sometimes worked your magic on.

As soon as you gripped the handle you saw something that made you jump back, muscles flexing around whatever damage you’d done in your body from the fall. A large black snake? Some demonic squid’s appendage? Something unholy grabbed hold of the handle as soon as you had and gave such a tug the doors violently shook.

You spun around to the dark neighborhood behind you. Nothing. Turning back the thing was gone. And so was all of your hope. It was locked. The tears were unwanted and unnecessary, but just-- you were hurting so much, you were dirty, you were alone, and now essentially homeless.

If there was ever a reason to cry, you decided to let yourself have this one.

The lamplights flickered and the entire street went pitch black. Because of course it did.

Hyperventilating now entirely without intention, you watched as one light to the left popped on with a static buzz. Desperate to be out of the darkness you ran to the spotlight. As soon as your foot entered the beam, the light beside it lit up. Your eyes wandered to heaven above, were they helping you? Had you not been entirely abandoned?

Of course! Yeah. They sensed you at the doors and sent off some guidance. How silly of you. Relief washed over you as you ran through the lights until your foot left one spotlight but the next hadn't popped on.

Twirling back to the embassy, you saw all of the lights shut off in succession behind you.

Just you and the one lamp now, and the glow of some TVs in the shop window to the right. What was the meaning of this?

That weird sound you heard earlier but couldn’t place… electricity but dusty and barely contained. Your gaze was drawn to the radio in the shop window in front of you. You hadn’t noticed it until it buzzed to life. It lit up faintly, dial turning on its own until a high and smooth voice rang out, “Looking for your way to heaven? You’re in luck! The Hazbin Hotel is now accepting any and all willing to find redemption!”

This must have been the message, I mean, heaven was never good at being subtle.

“Just make your way to the left and toward the looming building atop the hill!”

Your head turned to your left and then up slightly. Bathed in red and white lights stood a behemoth of a building on the edge of a cliff.

Head still facing the hotel, your eyes flitted back to the radio.

“Reception is open 24 hours a day!”

You touched your arm, then patted at your pockets. Not a wallet or ID card on you. You were the 17th Cupid incarnation, why would you have a fucking ID card? But didn’t those places need such things? You’d seen every romcom earth had ever produced. There was always some issue with hotel check ins.

“Not a red cent needed! We literally do not care who you are!”

Oh. Wait. Was this a trap?

“Created by the Lucifer Morningstar’s daughter! A foolish young woman who genuinely believes in reforming sinners!”

Lucifer?? The former angel, yes, but the word angel carried much more weight now. Perhaps he would have a modicum of pity given your circumstances.

You took an unsteady foot forward and toward the hotel when the street lights all buzzed back to life.

The path to the hotel was long, many demons stopping you on your way but quickly losing interest after a second or two of pestering you. You gave a silent prayer to the archangels for that blessing.

It must have been nearly 1am when you finally made it to the hotel’s doors. When you entered you found an empty reception desk and a poorly written note:

Before the bell’s hammer even hit the metal, a man popped up from behind the counter.

The man.

The man you shot with Mania.

“Welcome to th-,”

You were outside and leaving the awning before he could finish, but just as quickly as you left he appeared in front of you, “Still missing your manners?”

He blocked your path with his remarkable size. Why were demons so tall? What was the use of it?

“Deer got your tongue?” He bent over unnaturally at the waist.

“What?”

“Would you like-,” he began.

You walked around him and down the driveway. He moved briskly beside you, slowly growing larger and larger until his body was several stories tall and entirely blocking the gates of the premises.

A horror. Hell was full of horrors.

He crouched, large toothy smile now baring down at you.

If you stabbed him in the eye with an arrow, which would cause the least trouble? It was a rule to never give a double love bite but this was a dire situation.

But if you were sent to hell for a little nun love fest, what would purposefully stabbing a sinner do?

He rapidly shrank, hands coming to his front to catch a summoned microphone…Cane? Staff?

“You’re injured. Just, come back inside. I promise I don’t bite without consent.” His head cocked to the side, a quiet, “Usually” tacked on.

We’re you visibly hurt? How bad was it? You looked past him to where sounds of yelling and music were rolling up the hill.

“You don’t have many options, angel.” He hissed the word through clenched teeth. Disgust almost seemed to lace his voice, but why, then, was he offering help?

“Not an angel. Cupid. Different.” Kind of. You gave the quiver a shake.

“Ah yes. That explains why you shot at me earlier.” A large hand came to your side and directed you to turn back around. He kept it there, pushing softly to keep you moving.

“I didn't shoot you.”, You huffed, crossing your arms before doubling over in pain. He stopped walking, hand resting now against your spine. Regaining your composure, you continued towards the hotel lobby, “My arrows fell out and…you caught one. With your body.”

“My pocket made quite the lucky catch. Now!” He snapped, a key appearing and floating into his hand with a sparkle of neon green, “Let’s get you to a room and cleaned up.”

“Do you work here?” You asked as he escorted you to one of the upper floors. The room was surprisingly clean and well decorated. You had expected a dingy highway motel. And while the room was largely dark wood and rich colors, it wasn’t as offensive as the rest of hell had been.

“Ah! My my, forgive me! I am Alastor, the radio demon and hotel manager here.” He bowed and offered his hand for you to place yours in. You did so without thinking, and he kissed your knuckles once but his mouth lingered over your flesh. Eyes half lidded, he glanced back up at you, “It is an absolute pleasure to meet you.”

There was no way to reverse Cupid’s arrows. Not by force. Love could only die by the hands of the ones who held it. Others could definitely bruise it, but ultimately it was up to the beholder. Mania was a little different, obsession could be dispelled by shattering whatever illusion the holder felt.

If the holder thought someone was the epitome of genteel chastity then a show of wanton sexuality could break the spell. If someone was convinced the object of their desire was very smart and savvy then acting ignorant could make the obsession fall flat. But there was no indication he had any illusions of you. Not yet, atleast.

Mania was now his, and he would keep it in his heart until he lost it or killed it. He could, technically, be possessed by, and be in the possession of, Mania for eternity. A sinner had never been shot before, that you knew of.

He didn’t noticeably react as you took back your hand. With a hum, he snapped again and you found a chair pulled up behind you and knocking into the back of your knees. You fell into the plush armchair, watching a metal basin of steaming water slide against your feet.

“Excuse you— ExcUU-,” you pulled your legs back but he pulled harder, Alastor removing your dirty shoes and tossing them off to the side like trash.

“You can't clean yourself with that broken collar bone. Allow me.” His hand gripped your ankles and dunked both into the water, “I insist.”

“It’s broken? How could I break a collarbone…,” the humor wasn’t lost on you, sinner washing holy feet, but your focus was entirely on the concept of a broken bone.

“Falling twenty five feet head first, apparently.” Alastor rubbed soap into your calves.

“But I don’t break.” What happened to you, what had that kick into hell done? “You saw me? Also, that isn’t dirty.” you pointed at your calf.

“Peripherally.”

Did he mean the dirt or witnessing the fall? You sat in silence while he hummed, returning your feet to their original color.

“Now,” he rose, patting his hands dry on a small towel, “Unbutton your top.”

Your expression was apparently quite loud, Alastor putting his hands up quickly, “Not like that. I’ve no interest in that sort of thing. I need to see your shoulder and upper chest.” He waited patiently, staring at you the entire time. His smile was so wide, teeth yellow and sharp. Unsettling.

He really did look like he could eat you. You’d heard of such demons.

You slipped off the straps of your overalls, and began to open your shirt. He did away with the water, coming to kneel directly to your right as he watched. You couldn’t see anything without some kind of mirror. If it was bruised or swollen, it was out of your line of sight. Long clawed hands came to the front and back of your shoulder, pressing inward. You pulled away, a firm grip now as his right hand held at the left side of your waist.

“Are you a doctor?” Hotel manager and doctor would be an unlikely combo, but the day had been odd from start to finish.

A shake of the head, “But when I was alive, I did have quite a lot of experience with the inner workings of anatomy.” You grimaced, how could he say such sinister things with such a lovely voice? “Maybe not broken. But I’d say at least a fracture. Perhaps your heavenly body didn’t take full damage. It hurts when you move your arm, correct?” You nodded.

He hummed, another click of his fingers and a fabric unfurled into his waiting hands. “Take it all the way off so I can set this.”

You were exhausted. The pain was gnawing at your nerves. No more fight in you, you just wanted rest, so you slipped off the shirt entirely and let him wrap your arm up into a simple sling. You were surprised his hands were so warm. Demons seemed like they’d be cold to the touch. Like lizards or pearls.

When he finished, you sitting in the large chair with your arm wrapped in a silky black sling, no shirt, and pastel purple heart-shaped overalls folded down your torso, you considered having another cry. You felt your chin tremble. You couldn’t recall ever crying from sadness before today.

It was just a mistake. You hadn’t meant to drop your arrow. Why were the archangels so angry? What’s some sex between nuns?

Alastor bristled, hand coming to your cheek. It was an unwelcome gesture. You batted his hand away with your only free one, but he just sighed and set it on your thigh. You pushed it off, shooting him a glare. The audacity.

You thought you saw his eye twitch.

With what little energy was left in, you stood and open the door for him, “You have been very kind and helpful. Thank you very much. You can leave now.” Oh, right, “Please.”

He stood, pausing as he passed you. He was so tall. Shoulders wide. You felt your heart rate pick up. Even with two good collarbones you knew you couldn’t take him in a fight.

Alastor leaned down to your level, you backing up and into the door, “Until the morning.”

When he said it you had thought he was just going about formalities. But he wasn’t. You awoke some hours later to a knock. When you opened the door he was looming in your doorway again.

You tried to close the door but he put his foot in the gap, then a strong hand wrapped around the door’s edge and he pushed his way into the room.

You sputtered, arm flailing a little as you choked on which reaction to give first. You were undressed, in just your under things.

“I don’t want you to hurt yourself further when you get dressed. I’ll undo the sling and help.” Closing the door he then spun back around to face you, smile as bright as it was earlier that same day.

“No! Absolutely not! Leave! Please!”

As he guided your arm through the shirt, you struggled to process what had happened. One minute you were indignant and stubborn and then he was so close to you, hands warm and gentle, and then already he was untying the sling and your shirt was just there and-

“See? Wasn’t that easy? No harm in accepting help.” Alastor looked you over from top to bottom.

“Accepting? What part of any of that did I accept.” You stood bottomless in a button up, trying to get the overalls from the hanger with just your left hand. His chest pressed into your back, nearly forcing you to fall into the armoire, to assist you.

“The part where you didn’t actively fight me. I think we can call that acceptance until you learn better.” His words shook through your ribs and to your front.

Annoyance rose in your chest, what was he thinking? Humans had no right to touch you let alone a sinner. “You’re an eldritch horror, please back away from the divine creature before you.” Alastor laughed, backing away with the clothes in his hands. Hand out, you motioned for him to pass it over. He tossed it on the floor, and took a seat on the bed with crossed legs. “Oh, I see. You’re an asshole. Perfect.” Pretense gone, manners not needed.

You grabbed it with your left hand and managed to get both legs into it before slinking it up and onto your left shoulder. While you tried to figure out how to do the right side, realizing the flaw in your order of processes, Alastor leaned over and unhooked the left strap, overalls falling to the carpet with a soft thud.

You stood there for several moments, staring at him with purple fabric pooled around your ankles, him staring at you with a shiteating grin.

After finally getting dressed, preferring to not think about how, you were followed down to the lobby.

“Breakfast?” He asked, you both in the elevator as he hadn’t gone more than three feet from you since he entered your bedroom.

“No, no appetite. I need to find Lucifer.” You were sure he could help somehow. Somehow he could do….something. Details about Lucifer’s powers and abilities, his strengths and skills were all kept hush-hush. But if nothing else, you could find someone who understood your position.

Your hand was being vigorously shaken before the elevator doors even closed behind you. Charlie Morningstar was not what you expected. Chipper and bright, she was bursting with energy.

“Gentle, Charlie. Our dear Cupid is injured.” Alastor’s hand came to the small of your back. You reached back with your left hand and knocked it off of you.

“Like, the real actual cupid?!” Charlie’s eyes were shining, you could almost see the hearts floating up around her face. You felt Alastor’s hand again, now on your hip. You took three steps to the right, slipping from his fingertips.

“Yes, that is exactly what I-.” You were cut off, Charlie launching into a speech about sinners and heaven and redemption and so much more you couldn’t process.

The energy she gave us was very angelic, which was confusing. Until you saw her father entering the common area.

The most hated creature in all of creation. Your best hope for a tiny sliver of comfort.

Alastor’s hand reached for yours, fingers trapping your wrist and stopping you from approaching the king of hell.

You shook your arm. His hold stayed. You tugged. He was unaffected, talking to Charlie now about your injury as if you weren’t right there.

As Cupid, or at least as a cupid, you weren’t physically strong. You really weren’t meant to exist for a long time, just for as long as your body held up to repeated trips to the human realm. But, in heaven, you were never capable of being harmed. And of course, on earth, you weren’t really corporeal so no harm could come to you. You weren’t built for tug of war with a 7 foot tall demon.

“Mr. Devil! Sir!” You waved your foot, shouting out to the normal sized man. As he saw you, his eyes widened, “Hello there! Sorry to be a bother, I’m from heaven and-” You jerked your hand free, power walking to Lucifer, “I’m here on punishment. It’s a pleasure to meet another member of Elysium’s caretakers. Former or otherwise.”

Flustered, Lucifer fumbled with his phone before dropping it. “Oh! Shit! H-hello!”

You reached down to retrieve it for him, seeing black and red shoes behind you as you did.

“What — why are you here?” Lucifer was looking at Alastor now, which was great news because for a second you thought he was talking to you. A sneaking feeling leaked into your chest that heaven hadn’t actually told him you were coming.

“Just keeping an eye on my guest! As you can see she got injured and I’ve taken to the task of her safety while she’s in hell.”

“No one asked him to do that, sir.” Your smile was strained, you could feel Alastor’s shoulder was touching yours. You looked to where you were connected and then back to Lucifer, “Are all sinners like this?”

“Honestly? Yes. They’re all pretty terrible.” Lucifer sighed, “What did you do?”

A cold sweat, “Misused an arrow. I can’t leave hell until I make a demon who doesn’t already believe in true love…believe in it.”

“Oh no! That’s— you’re gonna be here awhile.” Lucifer pulled at his collar in a mock attempt to release the awkward heat of the conversation. He saw you wither, and Alastor seemed to bloom, so he quickly changed pace, “But! Uhhh, you can totally do it! Charlie has some of the best of the worst here. If I can ever help, just ask!” Nervous laughter that did not put you at ease. He seemed so silly. So sweet and easily flustered.

You felt your hope dash for a second time in less than a day. How long would you be in hell? How long was awhile?

“She is my responsibility now. She won’t be needing anything from you, your majesty.”

A darkness came over you as the two demons began to bicker. You now had your own obsessed shadow; a large and creepy sinner following you around. How on earth could you get close enough to a demon to complete your task? Convincing someone of true love would require trust and time. This would be impossible with Alastor attached to your side.

You spent the first week in hell in the hotel. Everytime you got the courage to leave and explore the areas outside, you’d find yourself shadow portaled “back to safety” by Alastor. It was like the human film ‘Groundhog Day’, always starting over back in the lobby.

No matter where you went in the hotel, he was either beside you or where you had been headed. You saw the sky less often than Alastor’s grin and you couldn’t stand it. You took to hiding, leaning against darkened stairwell corners and sitting on the floor of the ladies restroom.

It bought you a little time to yourself, but the second you moved he was there again. Asking if you were a lost little doe, hand reaching for your waist to pull you near him, red eyes threatening to swallow you whole.

Toward the end of the week, while helping you get dressed as he did daily, Alastor took a step back. “I could get you some new clothes. Cannibal town has the finest duds.” He lifted the lace that lined the top of your pocket, “You stick out. No demon is going to let you trick them into believing in true love like this.”

You could have screamed. No, no demon would even approach you with Alastor standing behind you. It absolutely wasn’t the clothes. You politely rejected the offer and went about your day.

The next morning you awoke to find your floor littered with strips of something. Flinging open the armoire you found two empty hangers. You turned back, noticing the white and purple color to the fabric confetti.

The march to Alastor’s room was easy, as it was 10 feet in front of your door. He had placed you directly across from him, because, ya know, Mania.

He clearly hadn’t expected you to leave your room in your underwear, eyes like saucers as he yanked you in.

“What in heaven are you doing?! Anyone could see you.” He hissed, closing the door with a little too much force.

“Whose fault is that?!” You seethed in return. Anger was something you rarely ever felt but he was inspiring new things in you. “Someone shredded my clothes.”

Alastor’s ears folded back, eyes looking to the left and up, “Odd. Are you sure? Maybe you accidentally threw them away.” That devilish grin you’d come to expect. He knew damn well how stupid that was.

You stomped your foot, if you had two working hands you’d try to rip his antlers off, “Are you serious?!” You turned to leave, kicking the door before attempting to open it.

A large hand pressed back on the door, slamming it shut. His breath was dropping down the back of your neck despite his considerable height, “You will not be leaving this room in such a state of undress, my dear.”

His voice was so low and close, had anyone ever spoken to you with such a commanding tone? A new feeling twitched in you. You blocked it out.

“You don’t get to make decisions for me,” said too softly.

His other hand came to press on the door, too. An arm to either side of you, trapped, as he leaned in. You pressed yourself against the door to make distance from his body.

“Oh, I absolutely do. Who is going to stop me? You?” Alastor’s voice had noticeably dropped an octave as he whispered what felt like a challenge against your hair.

Who indeed…you had no strength, an arrow would either be useless or complicate things. Lucifer seemed preoccupied and jittery. Heaven wasn’t returning your prayers.

He took your silence as an answer.

“Exactly. Now, I’ll only ask nicely once.” His hands left, warmth on your neck fading. You turned to look at him, sensing his eyes burning holes into your back.

He was holding a two piece set. Older style, 1920s American maybe. Black and burgundy. When did he have time to get this when every hour seemed to be spent near you?

“May I help you get dressed?”

You’d gotten quite close with the few residents who didn’t run at the sight of Alastor. Husk was one of them. You became fast friends, often drinking and lamenting about Alastor’s general existence as Alastor sat some 15 feet away on the sofa. Still not allowed outside the hotel gates, your second week you spent many hours at the bar talking to the surprisingly kind grump.

To your delight Alastor didn’t seem bothered by it, oddly, as long as you were in eyesight he seemed content.

You thought maybe his mania was already waning. Sure you hadn’t attempted to leave the hotel, and you hadn’t argued when he dressed you, but…Ah, hm. Fuck.

Mania can look like Love when you don't struggle against it. A fly motionless in a web can elude the spider for a little bit.

Don't push against the restraints and you can forget they are there entirely.

But push you did, accidentally. Husk was making some new cocktails, trying to enjoy himself and be creative.

“Yeah, that’s it.” He grinned.

“Good?”

He took another sip before handing the glass to you. You grabbed it, taking a taste. Sweet but a bite as it went down. Something with citrus. When you looked up from the glass, he was gone.

A choking noise from behind the bar made you stand up in your seat, eyes flying from Husk to Alastor. A glowing green leash dragging Husk across the floor, his hands desperately pulling at the collar as he struggled to breath.

“Stop!” You shouted, crawling over the bar and grabbing the chain with your good arm. You tried to pull back, to slow the choking force, but got pulled along with it. “Alastor!” You screamed as your shoulder hit the floor and sent searing pain down your arm.

You could hear Husk gasp, the green glow disappearing from past your clenched eyelids.

“Why can’t you-,” Alastor started to speak a he came to your side. Husk scurried away, crawling back from the demon. You hit the hand Alastor offered you but were surprised to see his face painted with concern.

“I said stop.” After rolling to your feet you began to march away. “Every time I find something nice in this piece of shit domain you remind me I’m in hell.”

You had almost made it to your room when a hand pulled you by the good shoulder and pushed you against the wall. It still hurt.

“Don’t you know? Sharing a drink, it’s as close to a kiss as you could get without bringing your mouth to his.”

“It was a drink, Alastor. You had no right.”

His hand settled on your throat. No grip, just a gentle placement, “I have every right.” His brows knit together in worry, in confusion. “What should I do to make you understand me?” His hand came to your chin, thumb ghosting over your lips.

“If I let you go too far, someone will surely take you. Who wouldn’t? Please. Stop pushing me so much.” His eyes were almost loving as they shined down at you. His breath was picking up. You could hear the desperation in his voice.

Those damned eyes were unrelenting in their stare into your own. There was no creature in presence or audacity in heaven like Alastor. You’d never encountered anything like him.

“Of all the Love you had to take a stray hit from, Mania really was the cruelest accident.” You held your hand at the crook of your neck, wondering if you did more damage. No, if he did more damage.

“Mania? Is that the arrow I caught? How fitting.” His finger pulled down on your bottom lip. You’d seen this movie, you’d been there for these scenes in dorm rooms and under rainy awnings, in darkened beds and sunny fields. You could move, no part of him was actually holding you physically. “Yes, maybe I am obsessed. But whose fault is that? Will you take responsibility for it?” His chest was shaking with every breath. Why didn’t you move? Just walk away. Knock off that touch as you had been doing. You hadn’t noticed how quickly you were breathing, too, until his hand was pulling your chin up and towards his face.

It only came out as a whisper, half said as it was only half meant, “don’t.”

A laugh, “At least pretend you mean it.”

Your knees came together in some desperate attempt to stop the feeling creeping up your legs and to your lap, “Apologize to Husk.”

“Why would I ever do such a thing?” His breath was so warm on your mouth, face tilted to keep his nose from hitting yours.

“What a terrible reply!” You slid down the wall and slipped under his arms, “If you shadow work your way into this room I will fuck that horny spider on camera just to spite you.” You opened your door, pausing to make sure he was still down the hall, “Angel on Angel, working title.”

Your whole body went slack, the sounds of a wild animal loose in the hallway rocking the door as you took shaky steps to the bed, paintings on the walls rattling as he did unseen damage. Sounds of an unknown, unholy animal raging just past the thin drywall.

Had you ever seen Mania work so quickly with so little fuel? Hand coming to your mouth, a burning where his finger touched you.

No one had touched your lips before. No one could ever hope to. Humans were beyond the realm of feeling you, and you didn’t allow kissing with the partners you took in heaven. Personal rule. As in, it was too personal.

The lights in your room flickered, briefly shrouding you in darkness before coming back to life.

Deja vu.

Oh.

What had he introduced himself as? The radio demon? It wasn’t heaven who brought you to the hotel. Of course not.

No. Obviously not.

ᡣ𐭩ˋ°•*⁀➷ masterlist

∰ Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult (general tag list):

🏹Alastor stalkers: @celestial-vomit , @amurtan

@faeoffaith , sailorsmouth , @jeannyjaykaydeh , @jyoongim , @cosmic-lavender , @saturn-alone , @lustylita , @radio-darling , @kaylopolis , @dickmastersworld , @leviskittywh0re

798 notes · View notes

meikoo · 9 days

Text

Guys guys guys i have issues

having an angsty morning (there's some nsfw implications at the end), but like being in a place where you're feeling like you need some extra love and attention, but at the same time finnick odair being in a place where he's being consumed by his thoughts, easily distracted, quiet, and just paying attention to his thoughts. and then you're kind of spiraling because your brain is freaking out that you're not getting what you need.

"finnick...finnick. finnick!"

"sorry. what's going on?" you're snapping him out of whatever daze he was in just long enough to talk to him.

"I was just saying I went shopping earlier, got some new shoes, and dresses, and swimsuits."

and he's not closed off, he hasn't shut down, but he's not being the eager to love on finnick that you need today. "I'm sure you'll look gorgeous, sweetheart." and there's a pang because you want him to ask to see them, for him to have you try them on like he would on other days, but you don't want to ask for it.

so you just nod, "yeah." smile strained.

later he's saying he's tired, "I'm gonna take a nap, wake me up if I'm not down in an hour."

"I'll just come with you, could use a nap too." In all reality you just want an excuse to cuddle, you'll happily lie awake while he rests if his arms are wrapped around yours.

"honey, you're not tired at all. don't want you to throw off your sleep schedule and then you can't sleep later." he's right and you hate it, especially that he's still caring and loving when missing what you're really wanting.

"yeah, you're right. have a good nap, Finn" he's smiling softly, kissing you quickly, and you hate that right now your brain is aching for more. you ache to be consumed by his presence. ache to be perceived by him.

after dinner, you're finally cuddled up watching a movie, but you just want to talk to him, to laugh with him. maybe the movie's great, but you have no idea because all you want is his focus to be away from it. which usually isn't hard to do, most movies he'll spend time staring at you, make jokes, but now he's completely occupied. it feels terrible to want his undivided attention this bad, but you're persisting.

"you know-" he's cutting you off with his finger on your lips.

he's smiling softly, playing with your hair, "shhh, let's just watch the movie, sweetheart."

it feels perfectly reasonable but now you're wondering if he really just fucking shushed you. usually you wouldn't mind, but you feel so desperate to be pampered and so confused on why it just happens to be the one day he's not already at that level. you feel ridiculous, but it hurts regardless. so you land on just trying to give yourself some extra love and attention is he won't, it won't be the same, but some self-care could be what you need.

you're off the couch as quick as you can be and ignoring finnick's curious look, at first he just assumed you're going to get a snack or to the bathroom and will be back. but you decide to just take a few deep breaths, start your skincare routine, paint your nails, maybe run a bath after, just try to relax, you don't know why you're getting so tense and anxious to be loved on.

and you're halfway done painting your toes when there's a knock on the bathroom door. "you can come in"

and finnick's slowly opening the door, taking a deep breath, "I know I should have just paused the movie and not shushed you, sweetheart. I'm sorry, you wanna come back downstairs now?"

how does he miss the point so completely? how can him trying be so endearing yet so frustrating? "thank you, finnick. I just don't feel like watching a movie right now."

"bring a book down or something, paint your nails down there."

"I don't want to."

he's scoffing, "I'm just trying to spend some time with you right now-"

you're standing up, jamming the lid to the nail polish on, "if you're gonna get mad at me then leave me alone, i didn't ask for your apology, and I didn't ask you to come in here!"

"you stormed off in the middle of a movie, was I not supposed to check on you?"

"now you want to check up on me? see what I need?" you're not being fair, you know that, but you don't care.

"what does that even mean?" and you can't stop yourself from crying. everything is too much. he's acting like something's dawned on him, but still misses the mark. "you must be exhausted, sweetheart, god, I'm so dense. I should never have told you no to taking a nap with me earlier, I just wanted to be alone for a while, but you really needed some rest. I'm sorry for getting upset with you, let's go to sleep."

"I'm not fucking tired, finnick! oh my god, just, you don't get it!"

he's taking deep breaths, "what don't I get, sweetheart?"

suddenly you're feeling too embarrassed to even say it, "nothing."

"nothing? nice try, c'mon talk to me, I care about you and want you to feel better." he's grabbing your hand, a shoulder, trying to rub them and remind you to breathe and then open up.

"you've just been ignoring me." you're basically whispering it.

*ignoring you? no, I haven't, we've spent time together."

"see, you don't get it."

his eyebrows are furrowing like he's trying to understand, "you need to tell me, to use your words, I know you can."

you're rolling your eyes, whining in frustration and one stern look from him is shutting that down as quickly as you can. "we've spent time together, but you're not paying attention to me." when he gets it he's laughing and you're pulling away, frowning, " don't laugh at me! nevermind, it's stupid forget about it."

"it's not stupid, sweet girl. but you're throwing a temper tantrum about me not paying attention to you instead of telling me. all this when you could've just asked."

"usually you already do it!"

his eyes soften, "I know, I'm sorry. sit down, let me finish painting your toes and when we're done, I'll run you a bath, read you a book, sound good, pretty girl?"

and you're already smiling, "yes, thank you. 'm sorry"

he's shaking his head with a smile, "don't worry about it, it's my fault. I've drilled in the expectation and then didn't follow through, my poor baby-"

and you can't help the things that does to you, "don't call me that."

and in faux innocence with his puppy dog eyes he asking, "why not?"

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meikoo · 9 days

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274K notes · View notes

meikoo · 9 days

Note

i am BEGGING you to write more for finnick and virgin reader. what you wrote for 🌾 anon was like the hottest thing i’ve ever read. what about him going down on reader for the first time and him explaining what he’s doing every step of the way?

by popular demand 🫡🫡🫡

when you're finally ready and all laid out on his bed, just in your underwear and you feel like you're supposed to feel more nervous but he's looking at you so lovingly, so comforting, and he's kissing you and then you can't think because his lips are so addictive. he's already walked you through him stretching you out on his fingers, wiped away your tears, but you'd insisted you wanted to keep going. by the time you've gotten off on his fingers you're desperate for more.

"you sure you wanna keep going, sweetheart? we can stop if you want."

you're whining in a plea for him to do as he pleases, "wanna go all the way, finn, promise."

"okay" and his kiss on your forehead leaves you chasing his lips, "gonna line myself up with you, honey." just the feeling of his dick sliding over you, so close to the entrance has you squirming. "it's probably gonna hurt, sweetheart, might take you a while to adjust. I'll take it slow, but I need you to tell me if it's too much. you think you can do that for me?"

you're whispering out a, "yeah" that feels nearly impossible to get out when you just want to whine in agreement

"good girl." and he can't help but chuckle when your whining again, pouting. "we're gonna go real slow, just gonna slide inside of you honey, just a little bit... fuck, you're so tight. feel so good." and your eyes slam shut, fingers wrapped in the bed sheets, "are you okay? need me to stop?"

you're shaking your head vehemently, "no"

"okay, just a little more." he's sliding in just a little bit further, "here, honey, I'm gonna touch you right where I did earlier that made you feel good and it'll help. is that okay." he excuses the lack of verbal confirmation when you're nodding over and over again, mouth opening but nothing's really coming out. "yeah?" and you're nodding again, so he's finding your clit and it's heaven on your earth the way you sound when he starts rubbing.

"oh, finnick!"

"yeah, that feels good, honey? okay gonna slide in more, you're doing so good for me." this continues until he's finally fully inside, "look at that honey, you took all of me. told you, you're perfect."

"so full, finnick."

"I know, honey, such a good girl taking me all the way. I'm gonna start moving now, okay? super slowly and you tell me if I need to stop." his fingers continued their relentless assault on your clit that had your biting your bottom lip.

"okay, please"

slowly he began thrusting in and out of you, biting down on his own lip as he went. "feel so good, honey. how are you feeling?"

"keep going." he stops to peer at you, the pain evident in your eyes, the way your nose is scrunched up

"how are you feeling?"

"it hurts, but just keep going, please."

"tell me if it gets worse, I can stop, honey, that won't upset me." but he did as you insisted and kept going

"finnick, keep going!"

"oh, she's snappy. can't be upset with you though, you feel so perfect, you are perfect"

after a while, a couple more pauses when he can tell you're in pain, you're begging him for more, "faster, please, I can take it, promise."

"if you're sure, then I'll speed up- fuck honey, so good."

"feels so weird, finn, like it did earlier."

"yeah? my good girl gonna cum for me again? it's okay, you can let go, got me so close" and he talks you through your orgasm too, "that feel good, honey? you're okay, it's okay, I'm gonna go nice and slow. you've got this, taking me so well. fuck, I'm so close, gonna pull out now honey, you're gonna feel empty, it's all gonna be okay. when I cum, is it okay if it gets on you?"

and when you're muttering it's alright and he's letting go on you, listening to you whine as he pulls out, he's addicted to you

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meikoo · 9 days

Text

katsuki comes home from work one day to find you in his office, fooling around with his calendar, and you've made some little notes before and after his scheduled patrol shifts, as well as sticky'd some pink hearts on a handful of days a week for the upcoming months.

and he gets the absolute worst love chub when you beam and tell him you're mapping out your fertile windows.

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meikoo · 10 days

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can never got over this show

Rewatched The Good Place for the first time since s4 dropped and. Oh my god. The Good Place said "people are a result of their environment but we always have a moral responsibility to be better" and The Good Place said "every day the world gets a little more complicated and it gets a little harder to be good" and The Good Place said "even in the face of total nihilism, when nothing you do will matter, you still have to at least try. Because trying is better than the alternative" and The Good Place said "if you have bills to pay and shit to deal with you don't have time or energy to become a better person" and then The Good Place really said "people get better when they get external love and support. How can we hold it against them when they don't " and THEN The Good Place really said "no one is irredeemable. Everyone can try to be better today than they were yesterday" AND THEN! The Good Place said "Heaven is just enough time with the people that you love" OH MY FUCKING GOD.

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meikoo · 11 days

Text

:<< my heart

i dunno man all m’thinkin about is desperate kisses with your best friend (now boyfriend cus ion play that) katsuki..drools..

..like, let’s say it’s a few weeks after you’ve moved into the dorms and his..encounter with the league. you jumped at the first opportunity to save him and to this day he still heavily scolds you for it, but you don’t think you’ll ever be able to forget the way he gripped you oh so tightly, the way he shoved his head in your hair when he’d seen you again after days of being unsure of when he’d get that chance again.

and you can’t lose him. not again, you just can’t. so you gripped him just as tight.

you’re constantly—constantly glued to him. katsuki doesn’t mind cus he also starts wanting you near him more than before, constantly needing to be there so he can keep you out of harms way. but he realizes one night while you’re lounging around on the couch before bed how tired you are. he can see, it’s clear in your eyes when you take a second too long to process and respond to dunce faces jokes. it’s clear in the way your eyes aren’t fully focused when you look up at him and smile. it’s cute, it’s bright, but it’s not fully you. and he feels his heart clench.

you’re dozing off at his side when he taps at your hip, forcing you to awaken and he presses his lips to your temple casually to speak against it quietly. “s’time for bed.” you grumble a bit and he has to hold back a chuckle. he groans and lifts himself up “alright. up, c’mon.” though he doesn’t give you the time to get up because he picks you up over his shoulder. your eyes fly open when he readjusts you and you squeal when he practically bounds off to your room, his only good night to your friends being “where goin’ to bed.” and him telling them to not stay up too long cus he doesn’t wanna hear denki whine about how tired he is the next morning. you hear said boy make kissy noises as your boyfriend carries you away and he scoffs under his breath.

you’ve made it to your room, he lays you down so, so gently onto your bed and your eyes meet. your tired and so is he, but you both see the other’s tiredness completely different from your own. katsuki’s eyes are the same, but there’s a tiredness in them that wasn’t there before. like he’s been asking himself too many questions before going to bed and it’s kept him up at night, despite him maintaining that insane sleep schedule of his. he looks tired and your heart clenches. you reach up for his cheeks instinctively and he’s pulled towards you without you so much as pulling him closer.

he’s so, so soft and he leans in closer and closer till his lips press so softly to the top of your head “go to sleep.” he whispers against it. but when he pulls away you still haven’t stopped looking at each other and your hands are on his face again. because you’ve gotten this sudden surge of feelings and he’s here and you missed him so much, so you pull him closer and kiss him and he immediately melts into you.

he was tired a second ago, and he still is yet he feels almost rejuvenated when he plants his palms next to your head onto your pillows. when he climbs into your bed to hover over you because he could not be further away from you and he needs you close, he needs to feel you. he needs to be able to taste your skin and breathe your air and feel your warmth so his hands trail lower to wrap your legs around his waist and you do, because you need the same thing he does.

“katsu..” you whimper, and he shushes you so softly when you wrap your arms around his neck tightly, almost shushing himself because he just can’t stay away from you for too long. “m’here baby, m’right here.”

tears well up in your eyes and it’s all you can do to tug softly at his hair just to here him grumble softly, just to hear him, to make sure he’s here.

“can you stay ? please, stay ?” you’re so sleepy, you don’t even know if you’re asking him to stay the night here or if you’re begging him not to leave you again but he nods anyway. “mhm, always will, sweets. always will, promise. promise it to ya.” he babbles as he keeps kissing you and keeps kissing and keeps kissing because he’s so tired and he missed you so much.

he knows he’ll have to sneak off early in the morning, but he doesn’t care since he wakes up early anyways. but it’ll wake you up too and you’re tired, so it pisses him off. you feel a bit selfish because you know he’ll have to leave a little bit earlier and you want him to sleep, but a bigger greedier part of you wants him to sleep here with you. so you wrap your arms around him tightly and the last thing you feel before your eyes close being the feeling of his lips on you.

..so yeah, just y’know..desperate kisses w katsu on the brain.

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meikoo · 12 days

Text

So in love

₊˚⊹。here, just for you | bakugo katsuki

wc: 1.0k summary: you give bakugo flowers, and he can’t figure out why. contains: implied f!reader but i don’t mention anything specific, talks about flowers and a kind of early established relationship, just fluff and bakugo getting flustered while going through the motions of a relationship! a/n: this is aged up to when bakugo is a pro! i envision him maturing a lot and mellowing out a little so hopefully this captures that!

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

Bakugo doesn’t know what to expect, stepping into his office after a long day on patrol—actually, scratch that. Bakugo doesn’t expect anything, really, besides his office to look the exact same way he left it this morning: pristine and orderly.

And it is, for the most part—save for a small bouquet of flowers sitting delicately on his desk.

It isn’t uncommon for him to receive some; companies and politicians often send them to express their good graces. But those usually go through PR first, along with the many other trinkets and letters received from fans.

So, it shouldn’t really be a big deal, except, flowers have never appeared in his office, on his desk, with a note written in your handwriting, until now.

Bakugo prides himself on his good memory; he remembers holidays, birthdays, and since being with you—potential anniversaries too. But there’s nothing, complete zilch that comes up when he tries to recall what today could be.

He furrows his brows, looking for your contact on his phone. Most of his hero costume is gone now, all of the chunky pieces stored away to reveal the plain black jumpsuit he wears underneath. Clunky boots replaced by rubber shoes he wears more and more these days.

He reaches for the bouquet while his phone rings, fingers sliding through the leaves softly. It’s a simple arrangement: a few gerberas and tulips standing out in pink and orange against small bunches of baby’s breath and cocculus. There’s a homeyness to it he can only attribute to you.

“Katsuki?” you pick up, warmth and affection coming through.

“Y’got me flowers?” he asks gruffly, thumbing the note you’d written.

There’s nothing on it but ‘For Katsuki’ in your cursive. No indication of what it’s for, or why you’d given it in the first place. He’s confused and maybe a little nervous; did he forget a date or something?

“Oh, yeah!” you exclaim, a string of ‘pings’ sounding your request at a video call.

Lately, calls with you end up this way. For the longest time, Bakugo’s been a text-mostly-and-call-but-no-video-only kind of guy; it’s quick and efficient, gets things done with minimal fuss. But since getting together with you, texting’s begun to feel a little bit insufficient without your voice accompanying it. Regular calls suffice, but you know how harsh his words can sound despite his face saying otherwise.

Your relationship is kind of old but still kind of new—a few months before you celebrate one year, and he still rolls his eyes (at himself) whenever you do this, lips quirked up as he clicks ‘accept’ (as if he can’t believe how you’ve single-handedly changed his phone habits just like that).

You wait for him to adjust his phone, portions of his office in blur before he props it against the All Might paperweight on his desk. You continue, “Do you like it?”

He shoves the bouquet into the frame, smothering the microphone until all you hear is muffled noise.

“Sorry, baby, I think you’re covering the mic.”

He tuts and you laugh as his face comes into view a few seconds later. His eyebrows are bunched together in the way they characteristically are and you see remnants of his black eyeliner smudged across his eyelids. Even at the tail end of his day, tired and just a little bit grumpy, Bakugo still looks pretty illuminated by the light on his phone.

It’s unfair, you think.

“S’nice.” he murmurs, fiddling with the petals, “Thank you.”

You catch his gaze and smile, “You’re welcome.”

There’s an uneasiness to Bakugo’s eyes that you can tell comes from uncertainty, and you give him the silence to sort through it before he lets you know eventually, just like he always does.

“I–”, he looks to the side, away from the camera. The crease between his eyebrows grow deeper before clearing his throat, “–M’not forgetting anythin’ today, am I?”

You tilt your head, puzzled, “I don’t think so, unless I’m forgetting it too.”

“So why’d–”, he looks back to the bouquet, sighing, “–why’dya give me flowers?”

Bakugo prides himself on his good memory; he knows your favorite food, and your usual order from that café you both go to down the street. He remembers that one sunday, during a hike, when you told him in passing that it was the best day of your life. You don’t like fuzzy socks because they make you sneeze, and you’re allergic to dust but continue to tend to him even when he’s covered entirely in it.

Bakugo knows all these things and makes it a point to because a relationship–this relationship with you–is new and kind of hard, and this is one way he knows he can be good to you.

“Oh,” you blink, before answering so casually, so honestly, “I just wanted to.”

Ruby eyes stare back at you, a mixture of emotions you can’t decipher swirling in them. His fingers slip through the leaves of the bouquet once more before his gaze softens.

“Ha.” he huffs out, almost chuckling to himself in relief.

“Yeah, ‘ha’,” you tease, laughing, “they’re just for being you, Katsuki.”

The look you send him is fond, but the feeling it gives him is anything but. Every time you laugh, and smile, and speak to him as if he is every bit deserving of the love you give, there is a battle raging in his ribcage. He doesn’t know when it’s ever going to stop feeling that way–if it ever will. The sides of his neck begin to flush red, and you giggle, finding it every bit endearing.

He clears his throat again, trying hard to hide how flustered he feels, “D’you make it?”

You nod, “Been trying flower arranging lately.”

“S’pretty.” he supplies, turning the bouquet around to show you. You grow shy, Bakugo knowing full well how terrible you are at taking compliments.

“You should get going, it’s getting late.” you mumble, snuggling into your blanket, the one he’d left in your apartment months ago.

Bakugo grunts in agreement, “Tomorrow, 7am?”

You hum, “Message me when you get home,” reminding him, even though this is routine by now.

The next day, just like every other Tuesday, Bakugo will pick you up at 7am for a trip to that café you go to down the street. And maybe, on another day, you’ll get him flowers again, just for being your Katsuki.

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meikoo · 12 days

Text

Katniss: Can I be frank with you guys

Johanna: Do I have to change my name too?

Peeta: I like my name… Can I still be Peeta?

Finnick: Shush guys, let Frank speak

Katniss:

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meikoo · 13 days

Note

hihihi!

idk if ur requests are open but i got an idea :)

bakugou/reader where they are in a secret relationship and the bakusquad sees them cuddling or whatever when they think nobody's around. maybe make them act like they hate each other infront of others hehe.

thanks in advance :D

oh yes yes i’ve already done two secret relationship posts u can find them on my masterlist :)) but i like this idea a lot so new one! lol

“hey kats.” you smile, seeing your boyfriend walk into the common room.

“shhhhhh.” he groans, agitated.

“hey?-” you frown.

“yeah yeah i love you, whatever. have a fucking headache.” he grumbles, crawling over you on the couch to lay his head on your chest, nuzzling into your soft shirt.

you smile, raking your fingers through his hair in attempt to soothe his headache.

“how come?” you say softly.

he stays quiet, unable to pinpoint what exactly caused this nuisance.

“..denki.” he says plainly with a deep frown on his face.

you laugh, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“you can’t just blame denki for all your inconveniences.” you say giggling.

he looks up at you with a pout and you peck his lips.

“yeah i can. he’s stupid.” he replies grumbling.

you squish his face in your hands and he sighs, eyes closing.

“that feels nice.” he mumbles, words distorted from his squashed lips.

“what?” you laugh, moving to release his face.

“hey. i said it feels nice. stay.” he grumbles, eyes closed.

you place your hands back on his face and he sighs, the pressure releasing the tension on his temples.

you place kisses all over his face, his squished cheeks, his pouted lips, his pretty lashes.

“can i just get you an advil? we can nap in my dorm?” you offer with a grin.

his eyes open slowly, annoyed with the harsh lights of the common room.

“are you gonna play with my hair?”

****************************************************

“i knew it!!” mina whisper shouts.

she feels a pinch to her arm.

“you didn’t know anything!” sero whisper shouts back.

“okay fine whatever, i didn’t. but this is INSANE.” mina yelps, eyes wide as saucers.

“i can’t believe he blamed me for his headache!” denki pouts.

kirishima rolls his eyes at his friend.

“why are you so quiet?” mina frowns, jabbing her finger in kirishimas chest.

kirishima freezes, attempting to stay cool.

“i just… wanna respect their privacy.” he defends.

mina grabs hold of sero and denkis shirts, tugging them close to her.

“he KNEW!!” she says, filled with anger.

she jumps up and down while shaking sero and denki furiously.

“dude! are you serious?!” denki asks.

kirishima crosses his arms over his chest.

“well… bakugou might’ve said a little something.” he smiles sheepishly.

“UGH. i hate you so much right now!”

the pair continues to argue as you and katsuki obliviously move around in the kitchen.

“they’re going to hear you, dipshits.” sero states plainly, already bored of this newfound information.

mina pouts, crossing her arms over her chest and kirishima goes silent.

“i want to get a closer look, see how fast they switch up when someone’s close.” denki smiles devilishly.

the three watch him go, wait till he’s out of earshot and then start dying of laughter.

“he is not smooth enough to pull that off.” sero grins.

“he’s going to get his ass kicked.”

****************************************************

katsuki watches boredly while you rustle through the medicine cabinet.

he groans, resting his forehead on the cool tile of the kitchen island.

“i know.. ‘m sorry kats. i can’t find the advil.” you frown, moving denkis flintstone gummy vitamins.

“i don’t need it, just need to sleep. come on.” he sighs, fisting at your shirt.

“hey guys! what’s going on here?” denki cheers as katsuki tears his hand off of you.

“hey denki.” you murmur, continuing to move throughout the shelf.

“do you know where the advil is?” you sigh, turning to denki.

denki frowns, upset at the lack of drama in this room.

“no idea… why do you need it?” he questions.

“bak- i… have a headache..” you murmur slowly, catching your almost mistake.

denkis brows pull together, glancing at bakugou still hunched over with his forehead on the counter.

“what’s wrong with you then?” denki asks with a smirk.

“shut the fuck up before i knock your lights out.” katsuki seethes, remaining in his weakened position.

you giggle as denkis eyes widen.

“wow kami, he means business.” you say grinning.

kaminari’s ears turn bright red from embarrassment, frustration bubbling up in his veins.

“oh shit denki… don’t say it.” mina mutters and kiri and sero understand exactly what she means.

the three of them watch as kami’s hands ball into fists and his brows pull together.

“temper tantrum.” sero sighs.

“yeah?! well i know you two are going at it!” denki screams at bakugou.

“kats-”

katsuki lunges forward, gripping denki by the front of his shirt.

“well shit. come on.” kiri says quickly, hitting sero.

you watch as katsuki’s arms are restrained by kirishima and sero wraps his arms around denkis middle, the two pulling them apart.

“we’re sorry!” kirishima groans from behind your boyfriend.

“it’s fine.” you mutter, knowing katsuki’s only mad because of his headache.

“it’s not fine! get off of me shit stain!” katsuki screams.

kirishima looks to you for reassurance. you nod, and kirishima releases him.

katsuki lunges forward once again and you grab him by the ear.

“ah ah ah.” katsuki halts while groaning in pain.

you sigh, giving straight mouthed looks to your friends.

“upstairs.” you say forcefully to katsuki, pinching his ear hard then releasing.

he groans, giving a look to denki before turning on his heel and stomping up the stairs.

“we’re sorry-”

“-we didn’t mean to-”

you hold your hands up in front of their faces, effectively silencing them.

“night.” you mutter, trudging up the stairs behind your boyfriend.

****************************************************

as soon as you are out of earshot the four of them erupt.

“DID YOU SEE HOW HE LISTENED TO HER?!”

“HES DOWN BADDDD!!”

****************************************************

“fucking denki.” katsuki groans.

“yeah yeah just get in bed you big baby.” you giggle softly and katsuki glares at you.

he climbs in bed, reaching his hand out to pull you in by your shirt.

“im coming relax.” you laugh.

he frowns deeply, folding his arms over his chest.

you smile, climbing into bed beside him.

staring into his eyes, you search for answers in his tired gaze.

“how’s your head?” you whisper, leaning forward and brushing his bangs back to reveal his cute forehead.

he frowns and lets a grown slip from his lips.

“they just had to pick today to find out, huh?” he mumbles, grabbing your hand.

you giggle softly, leaning your head against his shoulder.

“right, cause any other day you’d be soooo understanding?” you smirk up at him.

he scoffs, pushing your face away with his big hand.

“just wanted you all to myself…” he says under his breath, as if he didn’t even want you to hear him.

you feel your heart melt, shifting close to his face.

his breath hitches subtly as you turn your face to press open mouth kisses down his jaw.

he reaches for your thigh, pulling your leg over his hips.

you continue to kiss at his neck and jaw, placing a kiss to his adams’ apple as it bobs in his throat.

“you have me, okay?” you murmur against his skin.

he nods, arms wrapping around you in a bear hug.

“right.” you giggle.

“forgot its past your bedtime.”

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