#<< white & navy porcelain | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kentopedia · 7 months

Text

♰ sweet serial killer — nakahara chuuya

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🕸️🕷.𖥔 ݁ ˖ KINKTOBER NO. 4 - serial killer!chuuya

chuuya's always in such a rush to get home to you, so he can't really be blamed if he misses a few drops of blood on his clothes.

contents. fem!reader, nsfw minors dni, murder, blowjob, obsession, soft chuuya, one use of slut, pet names, slight corruption kink — 2.3k

the bloodstains had never gone unnoticed by you, despite what chuuya had thought.

the deep smear of maroon was the first thing that caught your eye each time he came home, smeared on his white collars, on the sleeves of his crisp button-ups.

naively, or perhaps out of sheer desperation, you forced yourself to believe that they were merely from cuts on his hand, ones that he’d missed, wiping them only on his shirt on accident. chuuya, from time to time, could be accident prone. he’d hit his hip on the countertops, stub his toe and curse profusely after, constantly too rough on his body. it wouldn’t have been unusual if one of those silly errors had led to a more serious injury.

truly, there were a plethora of things that could have explained why drops of blood so frequently coated his clothing—just none that made sense to you.

the more you tried to rationalize it with yourself, the more outlandish your theories became. you couldn’t justify the blood running down the back of his shirt, not when you’d scrubbed his skin raw in the shower and found no cut. you couldn’t explain the dirt on his pants, the way that he’d spend half an hour in the bathroom every time he returned, turning the white porcelain of the shower a watery red.

chuuya snuck out late often, came back even later. every time he thought you were asleep, you’d pop one eye open, notice that the door was cracked, and watch as he scrubbed his clothes clean in the sink.

after, he’d slink into bed with you, curl around you with a heavy sigh, and kiss you deeply before passing out, as if nothing had changed at all.

for a while, you’d wondered if he was cheating on you—but it seemed so unlike chuuya, and there was no other evidence to point in that direction.

you had another theory, of course, but it seemed crazy—the musings of an overactive imagination. it was unfair to chuuya, too, who was the most loving person you’d ever met. maybe he stayed out late, disappeared to places you didn’t know about… but he was charming, caring, and he loved you, didn’t he?

but after nearly two months of enduring the routine, you decided not to let him off the hook any longer. if chuuya couldn’t be honest with you after a year of dating, moving in with one another, you weren’t sure he ever would be.

something about bringing it up to him, starting the conversation, was too frightening, and instead, you followed him one evening, when he snuck off on his bike, disappearing after midnight.

he stopped first at a bar, coming out only thirty minutes later with a pretty woman on his arm, smiling roguishly as he gestured towards his motorcycle. for a moment, you had almost thrown up in your car, tears hot in your eyes as you wondered if, maybe, your suspicions were right. maybe he was cheating on you, even when you’d believed chuuya to be utterly devoted to you.

maybe it had all just been a lie, an act he excelled at.

still, you held your shaky hands around the wheel, determined not to get ahead of yourself. there wasn’t proof—yet—of that insurrection. you wouldn’t judge him until you knew for certain.

if he had any idea that you were following him, he gave no indication of it.

chuuya took her to an abandoned dock, one that was crumbling with old ships and empty slots, the dark waves crashing against the shore under navy october skies. it was eerie, hauntingly so, the sign decrepit and wasting away, the perfect place to commit a murder and get away with it.

he snuck in past the locked gate easily in his motorcycle, but you were forced to park beyond it and trudge ahead on foot. you only hoped that your car wouldn’t get broken into—and that you wouldn’t be killed in the meantime.

in the midst of your search for chuuya, you heard a scream—it rang out through the port, loudly, echoing in the hollowness of the empty air. there was no one around but you, no one to save whatever soul had met their demise.

against the logic of every horror film you’d ever watched, you followed the noise, running towards it with heavy breaths in the cold air. the wind snuck down your throat, burning your lungs.

you found him at the edge of the dock.

the screaming stopped, cut off abruptly as chuuya landed another rough hit of his knife, blood spewing over his blade, into his face, down his neck. he brought the silver weapon down over and over again, sticking it into the woman’s side, her chest, the sound as steely as it was in the movies.

for a moment, you froze, unsure what do as you stared at your boyfriend, the one who smiled at you so sweetly. it was hard to reconcile him to this monster.

chuuya stood, straightened, and though your body was screaming at you to run, you could do nothing but stand and stare, breaths heavy at the sight of his familiar frame. if you ran, he’d only catch up to you. but if you didn’t…

“did you follow me?” chuuya turned, then, revealing only his side profile, so dark and glossy with red.

you hands shook at your sides. “i—” the sound was so weak that you couldn’t finish your sentence. “chuuya, i’m sorry,” you said in a panic, wondering if you dropped to your knees, begged him that you wouldn’t tell, then maybe he’d let you live.

he sighed and wiped his face, though the blood smeared worse in the process. it streaked over his chin, his jaw, as it dripped from the blade in his gloved hand. “‘it’s okay, doll. ‘m not gonna hurt you.” chuuya took a step forward, and though you couldn’t help it, you stepped back, shaking with fear. he stopped then, eyes softening at your fragility. “i promise.”

“chuuya,” you said again, helplessly. “what’s going on?”

he let the knife clatter onto the dock, his hands held high in surrender. with a sigh, his shoulders deflated. “you weren’t supposed to see me like this, baby.”

“you killed someone,” you choked out, tears streaming down your cheeks.

he looked out towards the ocean, his tongue running over his teeth before his jaw clenched, tightly. “it’s just a little something i gotta take care of, okay? i’d never hurt you. i love you, remember?”

that seemed like the kind of stupid thing that only took place in books; a serial killer truly loving the woman that he kissed at night. but chuuya…

well, it seemed hard to believe that everything about him had been a lie.

“you’re scaring me,” you said, wiping your face. “i don’t—”

he was upon you in two strides, stripping the gloves that held someone else’s blood, seeping into the fabric. his cold hands cupped your face, and there he was: the man you adored, delicate fingers tracing your jaw, eyes full of adoration for you, and not an ounce of malice. “i’m sorry, baby, i’m sorry,” he said, kissing your cheeks, your nose, pressing affection into every pore. “i wish i didn’t have to, but,” he kissed you hard, wrapping you up in his arms. “it’s just an itch i can’t stop scratching.”

you knew enough about serial killers to understand what he meant. “she was an innocent person,” you argued, though you were melting into chuuya’s arms, forgetting your fear, despite your sprinting heart.

“no, no,” chuuya countered, his hands lacing through your hair. “i worked with her. she’s been after me for weeks. slipping things into my drinks when she thinks i’m not looking.” he smiled, but something about it was dark, evil. “just like that man who followed you home three weeks ago. just like your ex-boyfriend who made you cry every day. or the man who tried to mug your best friend. they’re people who hurt others. they’re not innocent, are they?”

chuuya seemed genuinely curious, his head cocking to the side, and his fingers stilled, his lips red not from blood, but from his force of his kisses.

you let a shaky breath leave your lips. “you did all that?”

when he put it that way—was it such a bad thing? you had been relieved when your horrid ex-boyfriend had been found dead on the streets. perhaps the men who found it fun to prey on unsuspecting women deserved a gruesome death just like him.

maybe even the woman who had her sights set on your boyfriend shouldn’t get off any easier.

“if i must live with this sin,” chuuya said, a response to your silence, his eyebrows pulled together tightly, “it only makes sense i should do something good with it.”

“by killing the people that hurt me?”

“well,” he smiled softly, “what other purpose do i have to live for?”

the weight of chuuya’s devotion washed over you, and you remembered your previous thought, of needing to drop to your knees and beg chuuya for your life. now, though, he was staring at you so lovingly that you fell to your knees in a different way, brushing your hair out of your face.

chuuya watched as your fingers ran over the bulge in his pants delicately, a thirst starting in your stomach. you loved him. and if you ever doubted that fact, now you were certain.

“what are you doing, doll?” chuuya asked, breathlessly, watching as you undid his belt, slid the silver zipper down his tight black pants. “you just found out your boyfriend’s a serial killer, and you’re gonna suck him off… are you that much of a slut?”

you’re not sure why the mean name spurred you on further, sent need coursing through you as your mouth watered for chuuya.

“my boyfriend killed someone who was trying to take him from me,” you smiled sweetly, licking your lips. “who else can say the same?’

chuuya sucked in a breath as you freed him from the confines of his tightened pants, stroking your manicured hand down the length of him, the touch barely there. then, you wrapped your hand around him, your fingers tightening as you watched the flush start from his neck, the red that couldn’t hide, even beneath the smears of blood.

“you wanna watch next time?” he teased, wispy strands of hair falling over his eyes. “if a man ever bothers you, just tell me, sweetheart. i’ll kill him with you right by my side.”

you were ashamed by how much that turned you on, the pool of desire sinking in your stomach. already, you ached to get your lips on chuuya, and you stroked him eagerly, listening as his gasps grew faster.

quicker than anticipated, chuuya was hard, the tip sticky as sweat gathered at his hairline. his lips parted so beautifully when he stared down at you with darkened grey eyes.

“maybe i’ll kill them myself,” you said back in a sultry voice, knowing perfectly well that your fingers would tremble around the blade, that you couldn’t kill a man even if you wanted to. still, you liked pretending to be chuuya’s beautiful siren as your thumb grazed over his slit, just feet away from the woman he killed. “think i’d look pretty with blood on my face, chuuya?”

chuuya groaned as your hand sped faster, shiny and sticky as he leaked down your palm. “oh, you’re pretty all the time, but god, knowing you’re just as fucked up as me would drive me wild.”

you smiled, chuuya’s cock stiff in your hand as you pulled away, licked the wetness from your palm. blinking up at him from under your lashes, chuuya’s gaze grew dark, his patience waning.

“taste good, chuuya,” you grinned, wiping your hands off on your thighs as you finally positioned your lips over his tip, kissing him lightly.

he hissed, but kept his hips still. “yeah? want me to cum in your mouth? fuck,” he said as you sank your hot lips over him, your tongue running along the side of his aching cock. a heavy hand landed on your head, and chuuya stroked your hair lovingly, his breathing heavy as you hollowed your cheeks. “such a messy girl, all for me. so hungry for my cock, aren’t you?”

you made a soft sound, your mouth too full of him to speak.

“y-yeah,” chuuya stuttered, his chest heaving as your fingers reached up to stroke him gently, massage his balls as spit made a mess all over your face. “fuck. fuck, you’re so perfect. i can’t let anyone else have you. gonna kill anyone who even looks at you.” chuuya groaned, his other hand coming around to cup your cheek, thumb stroking you in adoration. “i bet you’d like that. you’re so desperate for attention, and you’ve got all of mine.”

his words came out more raspy, then, voice lingering on the edge of a sigh. you ran your tongue along the vein, swallowing around him once more. from the deepened sound of chuuya’s voice, you knew he was close, and his fingers curled in your hair, roughly, squeezing at your scalp.

he choked out his words, chest rising quickly. “just like that, sweetheart, such a good girl. you’re gonna make me cum.” his voice strained as his hand guided you, gently, along his aching cock.

there was little warning when he shot thick ropes of cum into your mouth, yanking on your hair tightly as you swallowed as much as you could. it leaked onto your lips, down your chin, and you glanced up at chuuya with lust-blown eyes, smiling with flushed cheeks.

“i love you, chuuya,” you said, your hands resting on your lap as he gazed down at you, cock twitching once more at the sight of you so ruined.

“shit. i love you too, doll,” he said, pulling you to your feet, cradling you against his chest. “i’m never going to let anyone hurt you again. i’ll keep you safe, okay?”

you smiled, nodded at the sight of his flushed cheeks, but already, he was tugging at your waistband, sticking cold fingers down your pants.

“chuuya,” you gasped, grabbing onto his shoulders to keep yourself steady. “what are you doing?”

he smirked, eyes dark as he rubbed a finger through your wet folds. “didn’t think i’d let you go without taking care of you first, did you?” chuuya asked, watching the breaths come out of you quicker. “besides,” he nodded over his shoulder towards the lifeless, bloodstained body, eyes wide and white in fear as she stared. “we can’t leave without giving her a show.”

tags: @hannzai @cha0thicpisces @kissesmellow21 @sukiischaotic @hinata7346 @annoyingpainterprincess

OCTOBER MASTERLIST

sorry guys i kinda rushed through this one a bit bc i wanted to get back to writing about my scrumdiddlyumptious pookie bear :/ (dazai)

699 notes · View notes

wandasaura · 5 months

Text

— SWEET FESTIVE LOVE

summary — so much has been taken from your girlfriends, so bringing a taste of the holidays into your shared apartment gives back some of the magic they lost out on for so long

warning(s) — just a sweet morning with your girlfriends, the faintest most nondescript mention of wanda/natasha’s childhoods

It was easier said than done; escaping from bed without waking the two Avengers you slept between, but eventually by some kind of miracle, you managed to untangle yourself from their warm bodies and the heavy blankets you had been practically cocooned beneath without too much trouble, and once your bare feet hit the cold hardwood, chills immediately spreading up your bones at the fluctuation of temperature, you were free to escape into the living room where Halloween decorations taunted you on every surface.

The first thing you did was switch the overhead lights on and start a pot of coffee in the kitchen — more for Natasha than yourself. You wouldn’t have much time before they noticed you were missing from bed and came to find you with worried and panicked frowns on their sleepy faces, but coffee was as good of a peace offering as any for your scarlet headed girlfriend. Wanda would just laugh when she eventually found you, she was always the last to jump to conclusions when it came to your spontaneous disappearances.

With coffee brewing and dawn approaching, the fresh-feeling yelled-toned sunlight that peaked through the windows created a gentle golden hue within the eerily quiet apartment, you set off on your original mission, the entire reason you wrangled yourself out of bed so early; setting up for Christmas.

You’d sat with the idea for weeks before you brought it up to your girlfriends, knowing Wanda came from a Jewish family, and Natasha had been cheated of a childhood entirely, you didn’t want to overstep on your first holiday season together, still in the stage of navigating new traditions and celebrations, but the witch had assured you that she didn’t mind the decorations and traditional festive traditions you wanted to bring into the apartment. She was secure in her upbringing (the little she got to have before everything was ripped away at the very least), and she enjoyed the cheesiness of a jolly sleigh riding home intruder and gingerbread men. Natasha had been otherwise indifferent when the conversation turned to her, not the most forthcoming when it came to reliving the Ohio mission, but you caught the slight curl to her pink lips when you started rambling about your family's traditions. After that, you’d slowly started to accumulate different decorations that you thought encapsulated theirs and your personalities perfectly. You shied away from the brighter reds and greens that overpopulated stores, sticking with cooler tones and golds that were more their laidback energy.

You started the process by dismantling all of the fall decorations you’d placed out in September, piling them all on the couch to be put away later on when you had more of an idea as to where all the Christmas decor would be going. You replaced styrofoam pumpkins and scarecrows with porcelain pine trees and snowmen, sprinkling fake snow and vines of artificial holly across the mantle where you’d be handing the matching stockings you had custom made.

You cleared the windowsill in the center of the front wall, stacking the picture frames on the arm of the couch before you went back to decorating, spreading a navy blue table runner across the white trim to add contrast to the primarily red and green decorations. You’d gotten a lot accomplished by time you heard panicked feet shuffling down the stairs, fumbling over the placement of palm sized glass dreidels when Natasha’s presence became known.

“There you are!” She gasped, tugging her fingers through her slept on red curls, keeping them out of her face as the panic turned into annoyance. “Halloween was yesterday, Y/N.” She emphasized her displeasure with a grumpy huff, staring straight at your collection of nesting dolls that were sitting where her beloved jack-o-lantern resided just last night.

“Oh don’t be such a scrooge.” Wanda called from the top of the stairs, amusement clear in her tone as she figured what you were up to, clearly not as worried as Natasha had been. She came down the stairs with less of a rush, busy tying her hair up into a ponytail before she paused at the bottom of the steps when her eyes drifted over to where you were standing. “Dove.” Her tone drips with fondness and appreciation as she takes note of the silver menorah in the center of the windowsill, the blossoming sunlight reflecting off of the glass dreidels that were scattered around as well, casting small shadows of rainbow light against the opposite wall.

“I know you don’t really celebrate Chanukah, but I wanted you to feel represented too. I hope I got it right.” You fiddle with your fingers nervously, “I looked up so many menorahs. I made sure the shamash.. is that what it’s called?…I made sure the shamash was a different height, and that the eight branches were level. So many I looked at weren’t.”

Wanda’s gaze was practically bleeding with adoration as she crossed the living room to hold your face tenderly in her hands, “Thank you.” She kissed your lips earnestly, brushing her fingers over your cheeks delicately before she flickered her gaze to the little details you paid close attention to. She spotted a gold Star of David sitting next to a suction cup hook, not yet hung up wherever you intended to place it, but her heart swelled at the intentions.

“You’re welcome.” You giggled shyly, leaning in to kiss her sweetly as she embraced you in a true and tight embrace. “Now! Since you both decided to wake up, the tree needs to be set up, and I wasn’t tall enough to hang that sign or the mistletoe!” You called out smugly, staring directly at Natasha who just groaned defeatedly, but you knew she didn’t mind, she was just too proud to admit how nice it was to see the apartment so lively and normal. This was all she’d ever wanted her life to amount to.

#wanda maximoff #natasha romanoff #wandanat #wanda maximoff fluff #natasha romanoff fluff #wandanat fluff #wanda maximoff x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #wandanat x reader #series: little dove

505 notes · View notes

the-californicationist · 4 months

Text

he trims his beard

Pirate!Price/Reader

God, I want to write thirty damn chapters about Pirate!Price so badly. Someone tell me not to, please? Lol. Otherwise, y'all might be getting thirty chapters of Pirate!Price...

MDNI/18+ TW: virginity reference

Summary:

Captain John Price is king of the Seven Seas, and after he saves your life, you owe him a debt. His fee? To take you as his wife.

The Mediterranean Sea, 1708

“I just can’t…ARGH!” Price slammed his hand down on the porcelain basin as he tried to shave his chin, unable to use his right hand after the accident.

You pitied him, but you were still terribly afraid of him. When he rescued you, you thought he had been Death riding in on his ghostly white ship. But, now that he had been with you going on a fortnight, you realized the hardened, gruff exterior was but a hard shell encasing the soft, warm center of Captain Price, leader of the Queen’s special unit of Her Majesty’s Royal Navy.

You’d been marooned on Cassadaga Island for two days, stripped of your jewelry and purse, beaten within an inch of your life, and left for dead. Your would-be husband had planned the whole attack, hoping to cash in on the dowry money. The joke was on him. Your father had a gambling problem and had not two coins to rub together. The musket he kept above the mantle didn’t even have any gunpowder in it, you were so destitute. As soon as your fiancé found out about your lack of adequate funding, he tossed you overboard on his father’s ship. When Captain Price found you there, you were barely hanging on.

The captain had nursed you back to health, promising to chase down the vagabond and kill him for his dishonor. He’d been true to his word, slaughtering the lot of them, but during his vengeful assault, he’d been shot through the hand with a musket. You’d cleaned the wound, and he had yelled at you for the pain. Now, you were cowering in the corner of your shared room, back to being a prisoner.

He eyed you from his shining mirror above the basin,

“C’mere, girl.”

You edged closer. It wasn’t quick enough for him, so he crossed the room, his black leather boots banging on the ash wood of his quarters.

“I said come here,” he growled, grabbing you by the arm and dragging you over to the wash bowl, razor in his uninjured hand.

He let go of you, straightened himself, and sighed, fixing his harshness into a more genteel tone,

“My apologies,” the words came out of his mouth oily and practiced, not at all his natural verbiage, “Would you be so kind as to trim my beard? With my injury, and my left hand being more useless than a fuckin’ hook, I am at your mercy.”

He handed you the razor and you took it from him,

“Yes, sir - I mean, Captain. Yes, Captain.”

You were stuttering, full of abject fear at his possible retaliation.

As you approached his face with the razor, your hand was trembling and he noticed it. Something in him softened, his icy blue eyes melted just enough for him to hold you around your waist and gaze down at your face,

“It’s okay, pretty girl. My bark and my bite are both nasty, but I won’t harm you.”

His warm body was so close to yours, and with him leaning over you, breathing into your space, you could smell the tobacco scent that lingered in his clothes and beard. His long, braided hair was adorned with gold coins, bent and twisted into it to make little beads, and he had been caramelized by the sun. At the top of his sternum, you could see thick tufts of curly hair poking from his shirt. You tried not to stare.

“Captain,” you asked as sweetly as you could, “Can you sit, sir, so that I may reach your cheek?”

He smiled,

“Alright, love.”

He sat on his down mattress. The bed creaked at the addition of his familiar weight.

At this more convenient angle, you were able to reach his face and neck, so you began your task. You applied the foam in thin layers, working gently as you went, mindful that the captain kept his blades sharp enough to cut steel twine. What you hadn’t realized was that, by requesting that he sit, he was in full, direct eye sight of your heavy breasts. They were corseted up, as was the fashion, but without your normal over-dress to cover you, your nipples ghosted through the thin chemise, hinting at little pebbles beneath the surface. He had not stopped staring at them since you began to shave him.

You looked down while you were cleaning the blade, trying to discreetly glimpse at his growing passion, curious and fearful all at the same time. His breeches could barely contain him, and his thick phallus pressed into the join of his pants. He caught you staring, and he laughed at your rosy complexion, rolling his eyes,

“Ha! Embarrassed at your thirst, pretty girl? Surely those vagabonds did not leave you a virgin during your ordeal.”

“They did, sir,” you admitted, returning to your work, sad at having been discovered sinning with your abject perversion.

He made a small noise, unable to talk while you were shaving his prominent chin, careful around the curve of the bone. He liked to keep the sides long, trimming them with shears, but he always shaved his chin. You followed the razor’s line down his neck, careful not to knick his protruding Adam’s Apple.

“Is that so?” The captain purred.

“Yes, sir. At my fiance’s order.”

“Ah, I see.”

He was silent again, his eyes growing hungrier at the sight of you. His hands returned to your hips as the waves tossed the large vessel on the high seas. You stilled, feeling your belly flutter, wondering if it was seasickness or excitement from his newly focused touch.

“You alright, love? Bit choppy tonight. Storm’s brewin’.”

“Oh,” you nodded, finishing with his neck, “There. All finished, Captain.”

He moaned, holding your hips tighter, situating you between his open knees,

“Shame, that. I was enjoying your skillful hand, pretty girl.”

You blushed, setting the razor cleaned back in its case,

“Thank you, Captain Price. And thank you again for your rescue. I would be dead if not for your mercy. I am in your debt.”

“Aye,” the Captain eyed you slyly, “a steep debt at that. Your dowry should solve that for us. Then, you’ll be on your way. When we land in Málaga, your father can pay me.”

“Sir,” you gasped, “I don’t have one. My father took it to the game house and lost it on his cards.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, and you looked down at him in shame, hoping his mercy was deeper than his greed.

“Hmm, I see. Then, perhaps you would consider a captain as your betrothed?”

You looked up at him in shock, and he was amused by your fear. He used one hand to hold you by the hip, and his other, uninjured hand delicately pulled at the silk ribbon of your bodice, aiming to free you from your painful restraints.

“Y-y-yes…sir,” you could feel the heat on your cheeks, “My family would be most pleased with such a match.”

“Bugger your family, girl. They left you for dead. If you’re mine, you’ll be only mine. Once I have a bounty in my grasp, there’s not a man on God’s green earth who could take it from me. Does that scare you, girl? Do you want to run off home, turn to the cloth, become a nun instead?”

“No,” you shook your head, “No, sir. I owe you my life, and if it is my hand that you wish, I must oblige you.”

“I wish not your hand, love…” His tone was darkly suggestive, “Well, maybe at first.” He laughed warmly.

It was a joke that you had missed, but you knew it was your innocence that kept you from divining its meaning. In your core, your body yearned for him. Seeing him command his men, the fiercest swords on the Seven Seas, watching him take down pirates and vagabonds like it made his heart beat in his breast, it was mystifying. His huge muscles and broad bones made his tall figure all the more imposing, and every port you landed in, women swooned over him while the men cowered in fear. Yes, you’d enjoy him as a husband. No one would ever dare lay a hand on you again.

“What are your terms, Captain, should I accept your proposal?”

He ran a finger into the hole he had created in your leather bodice, letting you feel his warm touch through the thin fabric of your chemise. It electrified you.

“You’ll be mine, and only mine. I’ll be yours, and only yours. When I fill you with my seed, you’ll carry my children, and you’ll love them in earnest. You’ll sail with me, and learn the trade. There’s no comfortable manor house awaiting you, girl. What say you?”

“I agree to your terms, sir. But, I have one of my own.”

“Name it.”

“You’ll not lay a hand to me or our children, no matter the height of your rage.”

“Never. You have my word.”

Looking into his eyes, softened and vulnerable now, he meant it. You felt relief for the first time in weeks. Safe, protected, cared for, and welcomed into his adventures. It was everything you’d dreamed of. All of your childhood friends had dreams of servants and painting rooms and buying linens, while you had wanted to see the world. Here he was, offering it to you.

“I accept.”

“As do I, love. Now,” he finished removing your corset and bodice top, letting it fall to the floor, “as your husband, I’ll have what I’m owed.”

“Yes, Captain. But, please,” you felt a tear roll away from your wet lashes, “be gentle with me.”

“I promised no such thing,” he said, lowering his mouth to your nipple, sucking it and wetting the silk of your chemise, using his hand to pull down the fabric on your other breast, exposing it to the sea air.

You gasped, feeling his hot mouth explore your skin, your nipples tightening in the heat of his attentions. He was using his tongue to flick back and forth across the tip of your breast, not caring that you were trembling at every swipe of his tongue or thumb. You moaned, involuntarily, as you felt the sparkle of pleasure rush into your belly, making you wet under your skirts. While you had explored yourself plenty of times to discover the hidden secrets of your body, to have a man - especially such an aggressor like Captain Price - do it, it was so much more exciting. His forbidden fruit made you clench your legs together, upset and tingling within your core.

“Mmm,” he praised you, “Like that, love?”

“Yes, Captain,” you whispered softly, placing your hands on the back of his neck, rubbing the firm musculature you discovered there.

“Good girl,” he told you, pinching your nipple cruelly to make you moan again.

He kissed you then, full and with his long, ravenous tongue, forcing it into your mouth to feel your tongue and throat, the silky skin of your cheek. As he kissed you, he was busy rucking up your skirts, searching for your dripping heat. He found it, and he stilled. Barely moving, he stopped kissing you and looked up into your eyes with his stark blue ones, a look of pure delight on his face.

“Oh, my stars. There it is. You’ve been hiding it from me. So willing? Tell me the truth. Have you been hungering for me as I have been for you?”

It would not be proper to confess such a thing, even to a man who would be your husband. You shook your head in denial, pressing your lips together to keep from telling the truth.

“Say it! Tell your naughty thoughts to me, love. This is not the cunt of a frightened girl.”

You blushed, red as a rose, unable to meet his gaze.

“C’mon, pretty girl,” he moved his finger inside of you then, gently sinking into his drooling sheath, ready to send home his sword to it.

“Y-yes,” your voice was barely audible.

“Yes? What have you been thinking of?” He returned to your nipple, pressing his finger deeper into you, massaging your walls as he explored.

“You…when you fight pirates, sir. You look…”

He chuckled, biting your firm nipple softly, teasing you,

“You like seeing me murdering those devils, do you? In all my days, I never thought I’d find a lass who had a taste for war.”

“Not the war, sir. Just the warrior. You seem to be in command of the chaos, and my body…well, I guess…I am unsure how to describe it.”

He pulled you down to the bed and tossed you on your back, rutting against you with his length, letting his hardness press into your core through his breeches.

“You like seeing me in charge, hm? Your captain, barking his orders, tossing those traitorous rats into the drink, yeah?”

“Yes, sir,” you confessed, rolling in the broiling pleasure he was building inside of you, his hand knuckle-deep inside of your core.

“Good,” he said smugly, “Then, I have a command for you.”

You looked up at him, watching him roll your skirt up above your knees, his eyes never leaving your dripping folds. He smiled when he saw it gleam for him.

“What do you ask of me, my love?”

“Open your legs, girl. Feed yourself to your Captain.”

#call of duty fanfic #cod mw2 #cod mwii #captain john price #captain price #captain price x reader #john price #cod #captain price x you #pirate price

410 notes · View notes

elyssialumengard · 3 months

Text

Alastor x Reader : Fragile Link ( Part 2 )

______________________________________________

Link to the first part for those who haven't read it :

https://www.tumblr.com/elyssialumengard/741783404758073344/alastor-x-reader-fragile-link-part-1?source=share

Summary : In this chapter, Charlie presents his redemption hotel project to (y/n), an powerful overlord. Alastor, with his own motives, tries to persuade (y/n) to become involved in their confrontation against Adam.

______________________________________________

Taku knocked a second time, but the silence remained implacable.

Tangible anxiety flashed across his face as he prepared to strike a third time, softly saying :

- My Lady, may I come in ?

Getting no response, he made a face that the two people behind him did not see. Charlie frowned at Alastor, wondering what was going on. The radio demon tilted his head to the side, his eyes narrowing, wondering why (y/n) was slow to respond, when usually, she was so responsive. He could sense her presence, so it wasn't due to a mistake in location.

The demon, under the overlord's orders, did not hesitate to not ask permission, instead deciding to carefully push open the door. He entered, Charlie and Alastor on his heels, where the blonde was amazed by the clean layout of the place.

The room was bathed in soft, calming light that filtered through the thin curtains, letting in the golden rays of the artificial sun. The walls were painted in light tones, accentuating the brightness of the room and creating a warm atmosphere. Delicately framed paintings adorned the walls, bringing an artistic touch to the whole.

At the back of the room, a solid wooden desk was placed, on which were placed a kettle, a selection of fine teas in pretty metal boxes, delicately decorated porcelain cups, as well as small biscuits arranged on a plate.

Two plush sofas were placed opposite each other in the center, separated by a glass coffee table on which were a few magazines and a vase filled with fresh flowers. The elegantly patterned cushions added a touch of color and comfort to the seating.

Shelves full of books stretched along one of the walls, offering a varied selection of reading material for all tastes. Potted plants were scattered here and there, bringing greenery and freshness to the room.

In this welcoming and peaceful environment, (y/n) stood near a window, her back, silently contemplating the landscape through the glass, absorbed in her thoughts.

Approaching with growing concern, Taku called out to him again. Hearing this time, (y/n) gracefully pivoted towards them, revealing her strangely angelic appearance, which always disconcerted those who saw her for the first time.

Her hair, as white as fresh snow, flowed in silky cascades around her face, framing delicate, celestial features. His gaze, both gentle and penetrating, could have probed the deepest souls. Slight wrinkles framed her eyes, testifying to the countless trials she had endured. Fine deer antlers stood on the top of his head, rather large, extending back, adorned with light beads that had been made for her decades ago.

She was wrapped in a long taupe gray t-shirt, loose and flowing, the long sleeves of which fell almost delicately over her slender hands. The hem of the garment caressed the bottom of her buttocks while she had taken care to slip the front into her straight black fabric pants, thus defining her silhouette. A navy blue belt, carefully adjusted, captured the whole in subtle harmony. On her feet, sandals matching the color of the belt, with black wedge heels, seemed to extend the slender line of her legs.

Despite the apparent casualness of her outfit, she emanated an aura of dignity and serenity, giving her presence a natural nobility and captivating maturity.

Yet, despite the brilliance of her beauty and the imposing aura that surrounded her, an enigmatic fragility seemed to emanate from her, as if the burden of the entire world rested on her proud shoulders. Silent tears beading from her white eyelashes, sliding slowly down her cheeks, leaving in their wake sparkling traces on the porcelain of her skin.

Faced with this heartbreaking vision, Charlie's heart ached with empathy. She could almost feel the pain and suffering emanating from (y/n), even though she didn't know her.

Ignoring Charlie and Alastor, (y/n) walked towards Taku who was walking towards her. Their gestures betrayed a deep and ancient familiarity. She held out a trembling hand, which Taku took tenderly, placing his other hand on her hip for support.

Tears continued to fall down (y/n)’s cheeks as she begged for comfort.

- Taku... I am gripped by doubt and torment... Did I make the right decision ? Was I right to act this way ? She whispered in a broken voice. My heart breaks thinking that another member of my family will suffer loneliness and fear because of the consequences of my actions.

Taku looked at her affectionately, his hand gently stroking hers to comfort her.

- You acted according to your duty. He replied in a soothing voice. Lynn broke established laws. It has threatened the balance that you have so ardently preserved. You had no choice but to punish him.

An encouraging smile appeared on Taku's lips, trying to ease his mistress' pain.

- Your wisdom and prudence have protected our family and our territory. Don't let the burden of your decisions torment you. We are all at your side, aware of the rules, ready to support your choices, however difficult they may be.

(y/n) closed her eyes, feeling the tears continue to fall down her cheeks despite her efforts to hold them back.

- I know, Taku... I realize that none of you hated me for that, that I did what had to be done, but... But that doesn't lessen the pain. She whispered, letting out a sigh of sorrow.

Taku, still close to her, dried her tears delicately, his fingers tenderly caressing her skin. He moved even closer, trying to offer her whatever comfort he could in this moment of torment and vulnerability, no longer caring at all about the guests.

Observing this touching scene, Charlie was overcome by an emotion mixed with surprise and fascination. She didn't expect such intimacy between Taku and (y/n), but she couldn't help but find it magnificent, given the evidence of the deep attachment between them.

While as far as Alastor was concerned, he felt a surge of rage wash over him, his fingers tightening around the top of his cane with increasing intensity. His sinister smile widened, tinged with a dark glow as he observed this lesser demon, acting as if he was entitled to such closeness.

A shadow passed through his eyes, mixing jealousy and desire for possession.

- Remember this, my Lady. Your wisdom has always brought us serenity and protection. Your decisions were dictated by necessity and prudence. He continued in a soothing voice, trying to ease her pain.

(y/n) listened carefully to her advisor's comforting words, her expression relaxing slightly under his influence. However, when she heard the crackles of the radio growing louder in the room, her eyes suddenly widened, recognizing the sound with a disturbing certainty.

- Alastor, I advise you to control your emotions. Taku intervened, diverting his attention to the demon. I did not grant you an audience here, with my Lady, for you to cause trouble.

Alastor bit back a growl, his stag horns growing slightly in response to his growing frustration.

- I'm not the one who starts the trouble, my dear Taku. He replied, his gaze burning with a dark glow. But no matter, I wouldn't want to spoil your little intimate moment with your precious overlord. He added acerbically, his pupils narrowing, leaving more room for the black of his eyes.

Before Taku could respond, a bitter cold suddenly filled the room, dropping the temperature several degrees and obscuring the surrounding light. (y/n)'s silver eyes glowed menacingly as she stared at Alastor with an icy intensity, filled with hatred and menace.

Detaching itself slightly from Taku, (y/n)'s aura transformed into a terrifying presence, imbuing the room with a heavy and sinister atmosphere. His antlers grew larger as did his shadow which expanded, morphing into a tight grip around Alastor's body, immobilizing him. All this happened in barely the blink of an eye. Alastor's mischievous smile froze, becoming more awkward as he tried to keep his composure.

Charlie, panicked, let out a little cry of fear when she saw Alastor in danger. (y/n) walked towards him with determined steps, her piercing gaze staring at him intensely. Once in front of him, the same size, she addressed him in a cold voice :

-What are you here for, radio demon ?

Aware of the palpable threat in the air, Alastor responded with feigned confidence :

- Just to chat, my dear overlord. I come as a friend, as always.

- As friends ? She replied, an icy glint in her eyes. You have no friends here. You only have enemies waiting for the right moment to destroy you.

A shiver ran down Alastor's spine, but he kept his composure, his sinister smile stretching slightly across his face.

- Oh, but my dear, it's a shame. I'm sure we could get along if you gave me a chance.

(y/n) stared at him with contempt.

- You don't belong here, Alastor. And if you even think for a moment about sowing chaos in my territory, know that I will make you regret every second of your existence.

When Alastor should have fought back or tried to defend himself, a subtle observation revealed to him an unsuspected truth, escaped everyone's attention. The shadow's hold on him, although similar to that of his memories, was not as stifling or threatening as he had thought. He felt within himself the possibility of freeing himself from it, if he really wanted to. Staring intently at the face of the woman he had come to meet, he noticed that the tears had stopped flowing, giving way to an expression valiantly fighting against fatigue.

Smiling even more, he decided to lighten the atmosphere with his usual sarcastic humor.

- Let's see, my dear, you take me for a more belligerent demon than I really am. He said, giving a mocking smile. I'm here on a much more interesting matter than causing chaos. Actually, I'm here to introduce you to someone !

(y/n) arched an eyebrow, her expression hardening even further.

-And who is this person you are talking about ? She asked in a biting voice.

Alastor let out a small laugh, turning to Charlie with a theatrical nod.

- Allow me to introduce you to Princess Charlie Morningstar, heir to the throne of Hell and the founder of the Hazbin Hotel !

Charlie, feeling a little uncomfortable under (y/n)'s unforgiving gaze, gave her a shy smile and bowed slightly.

- Hey… Nice to meet you, Lady (y/n). She said in a calm but respectful voice.

( y/n ) looked away from Alastor to stare at Charlie, his expression softening slightly. She observed the young princess with a mixture of curiosity and evaluation, taking the time to look her over from head to toe, making her slightly uncomfortable, feeling as if the one who was taller than her she probed the depths of his soul.

- Charlie Morningstar… She whispered, repeating the name as if to engrave it in her memory.

As (y/n) scrutinized Charlie with growing interest, a resolve seemed to arise within her. With a graceful gesture of her hand, she dispelled the shadow that still enveloped Alastor, thus freeing the demon from his yoke. The temperature of the room and its brightness returned to their natural balance, while (y/n)'s deer antlers returned to their initial size.

(y/n), now more relaxed, conformed to the rules of etiquette, respecting them. A gracious smile graced her lips as she gave Charlie a salutation of gracious solemnity, bowing her head slightly in respect.

- The pleasure is shared, Princess Charlie. She replied in a soft but confident voice, getting up. It is an honor to welcome you to my modest home. Please forgive me for the vulnerable and aggressive version of myself that you may have encountered. Under no circumstances should she be present in the presence of royalty such as yours.

Charlie was pleasantly surprised by the sudden change in (y/n)'s attitude, feeling more comfortable in her presence. She bowed respectfully in gratitude, acknowledging the courtesy of the Overlord of Hell, not being used to being shown so much respect.

(y/n) then turned towards the couches, inviting Charlie to sit down.

- Please sit down, Princess Charlie, you must be tired from all this walking. She declared in a friendly voice, gesturing elegantly to the sofa.

Charlie nodded politely and sat down, his gaze following Alastor who stood behind the back of the sofa, his teasing smile still hanging on his lips. Meanwhile, (y/n) sent a command to Taku.

- Taku, please prepare some tea for our guest. She ordered in a calm but authoritative voice, as she sat down her turn, opposite Charlie who was standing straight, playing with his fingers.

Taku nodded silently, bowing slightly before walking over to where the teapot and cups were set out. He prepared the tea with silent skill, discreetly observing his enemy out of the corner of his eye.

As for Alastor, he remained unfazed by the presence of the one he would like to see dead, his expression still teasing, his gaze sparkling with undisguised malice as he observed the scene with palpable amusement.

Once the tea was ready, Taku approached Charlie and handed him a cup with a respectful gesture.

- Your tea, Princess Charlie. He announced in a neutral voice, placing it in front of her on the table, before serving (y/n), who thanked him with a warm but moderate smile.

Charlie thanked him with a grateful smile and took the cup carefully, feeling the comforting warmth of the liquid against his fingers. She took a small sip, savoring the soothing taste of the tea. (y/n) observed him with a slight smile, then suddenly declared, breaking the silence that had fallen :

- If I may say so, you look exactly like your father, Lucifer.

Charlie, astonished, looked at her in surprise.

- Do you know my father ? She asked with a hint of disbelief, unsure of what to think.

(y/n) nodded slightly.

- We met on a few rare occasions. She replied in a calm voice, full of reflection. But I must admit that I don't particularly hold it in my heart. Although I understand that he is overwhelmed by the illness of depression, especially since the departure of Lilith, your mother, I firmly believe that a king, even if he did not choose this destiny, must above all think to his subjects and be ready to sacrifice himself for them. Unfortunately, your father doesn't always seem to understand this, letting innocent people perish every year and condemning all sinners indiscriminately.

A nervous laugh escaped Charlie's lips at this unexpected revelation, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear, trying to hide his growing confusion. Another heavy silence settled in the room, (y/n) doing everything to ignore the presence of Alastor, who reveled in his reaction.

After taking a sip, the hostess asked in a friendly but curious voice :

-And if not, can you inform me of your coming here, princess ? I must admit that I never imagined such a thing happening.

Charlie felt a surge of intense excitement course through her body as she jumped to her feet, the surge in her voice ready to burst into song to introduce her hotel of redemption. Her eyes glowed with palpable determination as she prepared to share her vision with those in the room.

- Oh uh yes ! Let me introduce you to my hotel that rehabilitates fishermen ! She began in a vibrant, almost musical voice. A place where the most lost souls can find redemption and inner peace.

His momentum was abruptly interrupted by the authoritarian voice of (y/n), which ended his tirade :

- There is no room for songs here, princess. Please forgive me for interrupting you, but I believe that there is a time for everything, including songs. If this is serious, you can present things differently.

Charlie, disappointed by the abrupt interruption of her creative momentum, sat up slowly, stammering an excuse. Alastor raised an eyebrow and said in a voice tinged with sarcasm :

- Are you sure about that, (y/n) ?

Ignoring Alastor's remarks and the hostile glances exchanged between him and Taku, (y/n) focused on Charlie, noticing his growing state of stress. Telling herself that his condition was because of her, with natural grace, she offered him a soothing smile and said softly :

- There's no reason to stress, princess, I didn't want to upset you. However, I can't stand the music anymore.

Hearing this, Alastor's smile became colder and more sarcastic. Charlie, looking at the woman in front of her, sighed, her shoulders slumping. She still had a hard time realizing that she was here, sharing tea with the person she considered an example to follow. As a result, she could not hold back from sharing her adoration for the overlord.

- You know, I've always heard about you. Rumors say that you are almost as powerful as my father, but that you have chosen a different path. A path of compassion and helping others.You have made pacts with sinners, protecting them and guiding them through the troubled waters of life. It's incredible. Everyone talks about you, but we never see you. You might almost think you're a legend. And yet here I am, facing you, realizing that you are very real. I admire you so much. It's like meeting my idol. Your strength, your generosity... It's inspiring. I mean, who else could boast of having (y/n) as an ally ? That's... That would just be amazing.

As Charlie's excitement began to skyrocket again, (y/n) gave him a kind look and said gently, touched by his words :

- Calm down, princess. Thank you for your admiration. Breathe, I am fully listening to you.

Charlie, taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, outlined his plan with frankness tinged with nervousness. She honestly admitted that it was her fault that the purge had been brought forward six months, explaining that in a month Adam and the exterminators would come to see them first. Unable to hide her anxiety, she admitted that she did not know what to do in the face of this critical situation.

-And so… Alastor brought me here to get your help, apparently. She added, casting an uncertain look at Alastor.

( y/n ), staring skeptically at Alastor for the first since this exchange, raised an eyebrow, expressing doubt about the demon's intentions. In a calm but direct voice, she asked him :

- Do you really think you'll help Charlie with his hotel ? Do you believe in this idea of redemption ?

Alastor replied with a hint of amusement in his voice :

- Ah, my dear (y/n), believe in redemption ? It’s like believing in Santa Claus ! However, I see Charlie's little project as an entertainment opportunity. And maybe, who knows, a few souls to collect for eternity. But don't get me wrong, I'm here to save his project, it shouldn't be broken too quickly. I was even the one who chose the name of the brand, the “Hazbin Hotel”!

Faced with Alastor's response, Charlie felt disappointed and blasé, her face betraying her displeasure. She had hoped to find a sincere ally in him, but his words had reminded her of the dark and detached nature of the one who accompanied her today.

(y/n), turning to Taku with a serious look, asked him if the information provided by Alastor was true. Taku nodded soberly, confirming that according to his informants, the stated facts were accurate. (y/n) bowed his head slightly in recognition towards Taku before turning back to Charlie.

- I see… And what do you want from me, princess ?

Alastor spoke up to propose a solution to the situation.

- You know, (y/n), with your power and your army of fishermen, you could put an end to all this. You could even come to the aid of other potential members of what you insist on calling your “family”. He said in a convinced tone, looking at his nails, keeping a straight posture, not wanting to slump against the backrest even if he wanted to, wanting to keep a good face in front of her.

In a gesture of controlled serenity, (y/n) gently raised her hand to interrupt him, before falling gracefully on his knee. Closing her eyes briefly, she gathered her thoughts before responding in a calm but resolute voice :

- I understand your point of view, but I refuse to put the members of my family in danger for a matter that does not directly concern them. Here we are safe.

(y/n)'s reply, although delivered with apparent confidence, does not quite succeed in convincing Alastor, accustomed to detecting chinks in the armor of his interlocutors. He had subtly noticed the change in expression on the overlord's face. A smirk tugged at his thin lips, his eyes sparkling with biting amusement as he prepared to further explore the cracks in (y/n)'s confidence.

- You sure about that ? He asked, his voice softly tinged with a veiled threat. Think about it my dear. Things change, alliances break, and even your fishermen could find themselves caught in the tumult of this impending war.

He remained silent for a moment, letting his words permeate the atmosphere, then he continued in a calm but incisive tone :

- Imagine for a moment that Adam's forces are getting closer. Do you really think they will stop indefinitely at the gates of your pocket dimension ? That your precious fishermen will be spared from their fury ? No, my dear (y/n), your security is only an illusion in this constantly moving world. And if you refuse to act now, you may bitterly regret it when the flames of war lick the walls of your refuge.

He paused, letting his words resonate in (y/n)'s mind, before concluding with a sardonic smile :

- Of course, I do not underestimate your ability to protect your domain. But it's always good to consider all possibilities, even the darkest ones. After all, prudence is the mother of safety, right ?

Alastor knew how to tug on the heartstrings of high-ranking demons like (y/n). He used his charisma and sharp rhetoric to sow doubt in the overlord's mind, giving her a different perspective on the situation and pushing her to consider more aggressive actions to protect her rule and honor.

Before Charlie could intervene with his own arguments, Taku, faithful servant, spoke in a respectful but determined tone.

- My Lady. He began in a voice full of devotion. I understand the arguments made by this nuisance, but I implore you, do not let fear and uncertainty dictate your actions. You are the force that unites us, the light that guides our steps in the darkness. Your prudence is our shield against the chaos that always threatens to engulf us. Yes, times are uncertain and threats are many, but it is precisely in these times that your leadership is most crucial. Acting in haste, under the influence of fear, would only hasten our downfall. Let us remain faithful to our strategy, to our vision of the future. With your wisdom and wise judgment, we will overcome whatever challenges come our way. Because if you choose to engage in this confrontation, you risk losing more than you could gain. Your place is here, alongside yours, to protect our home and guide our destiny. Don't let the words of a manipulative demon sow doubt in your mind. We trust you, my Lady. And as long as you stay strong, so will we.

His hand, resting confidently on (y/n)'s shoulder, testified to his unwavering support, while he awaited his suzerain's decision with respectful patience, trusting in her wisdom and in her ability to make the best decisions for them.

(y/n) turned her gaze towards Taku, letting her face rest on her hand which was placed next to her on the backrest, fighting against the wave of sadness which invaded her at the thought of Lynn, that she had punished for a recent transgression. Alastor, carefully scanning the scene, felt a pang of annoyance as he noticed the proximity between them, a proximity that bothered him more than he cared to admit.

However, her attention was diverted by something that seemed to escape the others, when she raised her arm slightly, to take Taku's hand which was on her shoulder. Another curious and interesting detail, which added to the confirmation of his suspicions. (y/n) raised his face towards Charlie, letting go of his advisor's hand, placing his arm back at his side. In a gentle voice, she expressed her regrets.

- I'm sorry, princess, but I can't help you in this matter. She declared with compassion. I can't afford to put any member of my family in danger, let alone drag them into this.

However, she offered Charlie a glimmer of hope by adding :

- However, if your hotel survives, I will be happy to support you by visiting your establishment. I could then assess whether it truly constitutes a safe haven for those who seek redemption under your protection.

This compromise seemed to assuage Charlie's disappointment, giving him an encouraging outlook for the future of his project. She couldn't hold back her joy and literally jumped with contentment, her eyes shining with excitement.

- You are serious ? Really ? She exclaimed, both surprised and delighted by the powerful overlord's proposal.

(y/n) nodded gently, a kind smile stretching her lips.

- Yes I am. If your hotel manages to offer a path to redemption, then some members of my family may feel drawn to that possibility. And as a worthy leader, it is my duty to help them as best I can. She declared with dignity, thus expressing her noble vision of responsibilities.

Charlie's eyes lit up even more, splashed with a mixture of admiration and gratitude.

- It's incredible ! Thank you so much, (y/n) ! You won't regret it, I promise ! She exclaimed, letting her gratitude and determination to make her project a success shine through.

Sensing Charlie's imminent departure, (y/n) smiled slightly, appreciating his enthusiasm and determination.

- I wish you good luck, princess. Do your best to save your hotel. She told him sincerely, recognizing the passion that animated the young woman.

Charlie, moved by these words, bowed respectfully to (y/n) like a fan to an idol.

- Thank you, thank you very much ! I will not disappoint you ! I will do everything to find a solution to save him, you will see ! She promised passionately before heading towards the exit, carrying with her a mixture of excitement and newfound enthusiasm, not caring if Alastor followed her or not.

Alastor remained still, staring at (y/n) with a mixture of interest and challenge in his glowing gaze. Taku, seeing that the conversation was coming to an end, turned to Alastor with a cold and bitter expression, suggesting in a scathing tone :

- It's time for you to go, demon. Your presence is no longer required.

But Alastor didn't seem to react to Taku's words, keeping his attention entirely focused on (y/n). He let out a little sarcastic laugh, before announcing in a quiet voice but full of innuendo :

- In fact, I intend to talk a little more with (y/n).

She turned her attention to him, with a neutral air, while he announced :

-And one-on-one this time.

______________________________________________

Author's note : Well, I guess there will be a part 3, right ? I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I did writing it, and that (y/n)'s character captivated you. Stay tuned for the next part !

#alastor hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #alastor x reader #alastor x y/n #alastor x you #hazbin charlie #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #radio demon #vivziepop

111 notes · View notes

doodlegraveyard · 8 months

Text

Solarian court vibes

[image description: designs for winx club characters. Stella’s father King Radius has dark skin and flowing gold hair, dressed in a gold sun crown and golden armor beneath a brilliant gold and orange over gown in Tudor style. Queen Luna is small and incredibly pale, with porcelain skin and white hair. She is covered neck to ankle in a deep navy dress covered in large pearls like stars in a dark sky. On her head a large peineta with phases of the moon, covered by a translucent veil that reaches all the way to the floor. Cassandra is a curvy woman with very white skin and pale blonde head. She wears a dress in silver and gold, tight fitting like a 40s gown but with an Elizabethan ruff dyed golden like sunbeams. She has a necklace in the shape of a moon eclipsing the sun. End description]

#winx club #winx redesign #winx stella #winx Luna #winx Cassandra #winx radius

196 notes · View notes

neonovember · 2 years

Text

Lemon meringues

steve rogers mafia!au

summary: your escape to Brooklyn was harboured by secrets and a harrowed past, left abused and betrayed, you accepted your destiny of being swallowed by the crowd. Until the King of New York showed up in front of you and wanted a piece of you for himself.

a/n: this is the first instalment of a series, I honestly don't know how long it will be, but ill try to update every week!

Your hand reaches to grab the disregarded ceramic mugs perched at the middle of the wooden table, deep mahogany coffee stains the edges of the porcelain mugs and the crumbs of David’s famous croissant litter the table.

“All done here?” You smile, your arm balancing a plate of waffles and toast, you hope to god that they’ll just leave you be, your shift has just begun and the way your back ached had you wishing you’d crawled back under the covers, angry landlord and manager be damned.

The faces of the men that sat nodded, eyes not leaving each other as if you weren't even there. Each of them had the same scruffy 7-day stubble as if they had all collectively chosen to throw out their razors. Trucker caps fitted tightly and flannel shirts peeked through large navy jackets buttoned tight against the harsh July cold. The weather here could get brutal, you’d learned that your first winter with frozen pipes and a heater that spoke only puffs of grey smoke.

They show no action of gratitude, but they don't unnecessarily incapacitate you either, exactly how you like it. Nodding you make your rounds to the other tables, wiping down any remnants of spilt drinks and crumbs from the diner tables and booths. It labourers work, but it's still work. And you don't know what would happen if you lost that measly laughable income you earned from waitressing.

As long as you were far and between from him, you kept reminding yourself, every chime of the diner door opening had your hairs bristling and your stomach in twists, he’d never find you here, he couldn’t, you’d made sure of it. Hell, you’d erased your entire life, left it all behind, he couldn't hurt you now. At least that's what you told yourself.

The white-hot fear still slips down your spine whenever you see a familiar shirt he’d wear though, or a voice that sounded like him when he was mad, or the sound of boots behind you, or- god you’d be in therapy if it didn’t cost you a limb.

The soft downpour outside provided a melodic track to your routine, the sea of blue and navy umbrellas moving in unison to escape the rain. The sound of it put you at ease, you've always loved the rain, the way it slid down your face and washed away all the fears you carried. The smell of the earth after it rained, steam rising from the dirt and roads was something you've come to appreciate.

It was the only things you could, the small things, things that had been taken from you, berated and crushed within his iron grip.

“Why are you wasting time smelling the flowers?”

His voice soon followed your every thought, every move, every desire. As if your mind was asking permission- “Please?”.

You forgot what it felt like to live within a body that was fully yours, and not pinned up with strings that were in his grasp. Now you could stop and raise your face to the sky and let the droplets pepper your skin without fearing the downpour of his anger.

“You silly girl, you silly stupid girl”

Well, at least the one that isn't in your head.

The snap of diner door opens abruptly, slamming against the wall, as an umbrella pops through, your neck bristles with fear, shoulders tense and eyebrows furrowed.

Please no

It's a man, donning a deep maroon velvet coat, the buttons fitted and the material stretched against his chest. His golden locs were smoothed back, a scruff that seemed purposeful lining his jaw, the water from his umbrella runs down its rooves and ridges, gathering at his feet and seeping into the laminate floor. It doesn't matter, it isn’t him.

You quickly dust off your apron, gathering your rags before popping them under the compartment behind the till, the man is perusing through the collection of pastries and breakfast sandwiches displayed in the clear case.

“The lemon meringue is to die for,” You say, smiling at his indecision, You had many like him come in, overwhelmed with the many selections and flavours, not knowing where to begin.

He looks up quickly, eyes racking over your face, his cerulean blues darken for a moment, before a smile cracks over his features.

“That obvious?” He jokes, hands tucked into the pocket of his coat.

“Don’t worry about it, everybody has a first time at something” You reply, fingers wringing as you smile. His gorgeous up close, the kind of features that were clean-cut and old-fashioned. Like he didn't need to try so hard to capture anyone's attention, soft lips curl up as he notices your intense stare, and you quickly shake off your borderline stalker-ish ways.

“Well, in that case, I’ll get the meringue and a club special,” He says, hands coming up to brush through his golden locks dirtied by the rain.

You ring his order through the till, fingers almost missing the keys as you hurry to have him seated, he always hated being waited on, there were countless times when his lack of patience and your tardiness left you bruised and bloody.

The man reaches into his coat pocket to pull out a deep leather wallet, it reminds you of your father and it has you smiling softly. He hands you a hundred-dollar bill, and when you try to hand back his change he stops you with his hands quickly.

The feeling of the rough pads of his fingers shoots an intensity up your arm like you've been shocked and you pull your hand away quickly. The man stares intently at your hands, eyes surveying your frame as he rests them on your face.

“Keep the change..I’m sure” He finally says, hands back in his pocket only this time in tight fists.

You thank him generously, tucking the rolls into your side, tips never seemed to cover enough of your pay, and you think this man may have saved you from sleeping outside.

He doesn't say much, just nods, the same darkened look covering his features as he slides into a corner booth, the downpour above sheathed the morning sky in a deep dark navy. Causing the diner to be cloaked in a shadowed darkness as if it were evening instead of noon. The only thing providing light was the soft yellow overhanging ceiling lamp. It gave it a romantic feel that covered his features in a soft glow, and for some strange reason, you had the urge to know what his beard would feel like between your fingers.

Walking urgently back to the counter, you hand up the man's order for David, indiscretidely asking him to give him extra helpings. You carefully slice a cut of the meringue onto one of the ceramic plates, cleaning the edges and keeping it chilled.

David calls your name, motioning towards the finished sandwich that looked like if you didn't walk carefully it would topple over and onto the floor.

David winks at you, his jet-black hair pulled into a tight bun, the wrinkles around his eyes crinkling as he takes notice of your ulterior motive.

“When were ya gonna tell me about lover boy?” David teases, chin resting on his arms.

“Cmon David, he just gave me a good tip” You scoff humourselly, him? He wouldn't even look at you that way. You knew his type the moment you caught a glimpse of his goddamn cufflinks, besides, the rings adorning his fingers etched with the unmistakable A, told you he was in a business you wanted no part of. You weren't bout to jump into a relationship after just escaping your last, no, you definitely were not ready for that.

Yet a strange filling crept through your stomach, and it had you taking glances at his crouched figure in the booth, he was tall enough to the point where you could see the tussles of his golden locks, now dried and mused.

Snapping out of your stupor, you go to reach for his meal before another hand reaches for it, what is it today and people's hands? Chipped red nail polish and rubbery lips meet your gaze as Caroline smiles up at you.

“Mare’s asking if you could clean up the puddle in front of the diner door, says it’s quote on quote a cleaning hazard” Caroline rolls her eyes, tongue clicking as she shakes her head

“If she cared that much about following protocol she’d pay us a goddamn living wage” Caroline mutters loud enough for yout o hear, cautious of your domineering manager's watchful gaze.

You snicker, reaching for the mop at the corner of the diner,

“Who that?” Caroline says, motioning towards the golden-haired man with her chin, curiosity filling her eyes.

“That, is your customer, who just ordered a meringue and sandwich because of yours truly” You reply, eyes finding their way back to him.

Caroline nods, reaching for the meringue in the fridge,

“He even tipped me like over eighty bucks” You whisper, the reality of it still shocking you

Caroline swiftly turns to you at that, her dark auburn plaits whipping across her chest at her movements

“No shit? Cute and a gentleman, if there is one person in this god-forsaken place who deserves it it’s you” Caroline retorts, a smile lifting her lips.

You shake your head, reaching for the notes tucked in your pocket, Caroline had been your one and only friend besides David, you could count a handful of time’s when she had let you crash at her place or borrow money to tide your landlord over the next month.

It was your duty to give something back.

Caroline stops you gently, pushing the notes into your pocket before she grins gingerly

“Don’t you dare” Caroline begins, eyes darting across to the man in the booth,

“But, you can't possibly expect me not to pay you back” You begin, eyes burrowing as you try again, to hand her over a chunk of the money.

“You need it more than I do, besides you know the saying “reject the present to receive more in the future” Caroline sing songs, you shake your head laughing

“I don't think that’s quite how it goes, in fact, I'm pretty sure you made that up on the spot” You giggle, before pushing her out of the kitchen.

“You're too good for this rotten place sugar, you outta start taking things for yourself, before the world comes and swallows you whole” She replies, not sparing you a glance before navigating through the many red booths.

Her voice echoes in your mind as you clean up the murky water near the front door, watching as the brown liquid on against the laminated floor turns into a clean yellow that came with age and poor maintenance.

You serve half a dozen more customers before Caroline strolls towards you, a hidden smirk on her face with the man’s finished plates.

“What?” You reply, rolling your eyes, wiping down the counter, you always seemed to find yourself cleaning.

“Golden boy asked for you” She’s gone into a full toothy smile now, head lulling to the side as she teases you.

He asked for you? Why would he do that? Maybe he were asking for that tip back, reconciling that you weren't worth it. It wouldn’t be the first time

“Huh? What do you mean?” You cautiously answer Adi, aware of her ability to dramatise quite literally everything that happened between these walls.

“I mean, he asked why you didn’t come and give him his food. Said he was hoping that he could ask you something” She replies eyebrows wiggling playfully, knocking her hips to yours as she purred.

“I see how you play girl, just make him a regular customer why don’t you, I'm sure after the first taste he'll be coming back for more.” She laughed at you widened expression, you winced at her insinuations, you started to believe she wanted you to get laid more than you did yourself.

“Here, he left this” She replied, reaching into her pocket, and pulling out a ruffled tissue, you're expecting a message or a scribble of numbers, yet instead what meets your eye has your heart in your stomach and your fingers gripping your apron.

There written in black ink, is your husband's name, along with a number and one single word.

“I know what you did”.

Fuck.

743 notes · View notes

jen-with-a-pen · 6 months

Text

ALL TIED UP - ONE

Series

summary: Steve can't remember what happened lat night, but his body sure does. Regret is the worst hangover of all– even more so when you can't remember what you regret.

pairings: Art Student!Frat Brother!Steve Rogers x Film Student!Sorority Sister!Reader

word count: 955

chapter warnings: vague memories, indications of trauma, bruises, insomnia, dissociation, derealization, non-sexual nud1ty, mention and description of vomiting, anxiety attack, crying

a/n: So... this happened. the original wip was a one-shot inspired by this year's Whumptober Prompt #17: COLLAR, "LEAVE ME ALONE!"; as well as Alt. Prompt #15: RELUCTANT WHUMPER. I was going to use an idea I've had for a long time, but then I wrote... and wrote... and wrote... and now we're here. I struggled deciding on an idea for this and am thinking about also writing a separate work with Bucky, but I might also maybe be planning one from the readers POV, and maybe kinda sorta joining the two together and seeing where it goes. we'll see! I hope you enjoy

The most specialest of special thanks to two of my loves @vonalyn and @lunarbuck for helping me flesh out this idea and enable me in my destruction ♥ i owe you both a beefy alpha soon

gif by @paliaphrodite | additional graphics + dividers by me ♥

my ao3 | my masterlist | all tied up masterlist Read this fic HERE on ao3! ♥Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated as always ♥

Saturday, currently.

The alarm clock on Steve Rogers’ bedside table blares louder than it usually does.

Steve is already awake, however. He’s been awake for hours, lying in bed, staring unblinking at the faded white ceiling of his frat house bedroom. His eyes are bloodshot, the corners crusted from one part insomnia and one part tears. His body aches. Every muscle, every bone, feels like he’s been beaten senseless.

He doesn’t remember when he stopped crying.

Finally, he blinks. Slowly, unevenly, inhaling deeply. He holds it for a moment, the pressure in his chest providing some semblance of feeling in the numbness throughout his body. An exhale forces its way out of his lungs once the pressure begins to burn. He wills his hand to move, dropping on top of the alarm clock and his room falls back into silence once more. His hand falls limp off the nightstand as he drags it back to his side.

In a blur of his very few– and very failed– attempts to sleep that night, Steve remembers the second time he woke with a shout halfway out his throat. The navy blue comforter had tangled up in his sprawled limbs, the sheets being an entirely different mess at the foot of the bed. He’d thrown all of the covers on his bed onto the floor around three in the morning, when he succumbed to the threat of nightmares and insomnia, forced to lie awake.

His skin feels filthy, coated in scum and shame. Cold sweat beads on his forehead, neck, and back. His clothes– an old t-shirt he dug out of his closet and a reused pair of boxers– cling to him like a second, heavy skin. He needs to shed it, tear it off his body, claw it off until he hits bone. Everything feels suffocating as his tired brain swims with flashbacks to the night– the disaster– before. The shouts. The people. The sweat and tears.

The sex.

The thought of the word itself– and all connotations now attached to it– is enough to send a lurch through Steve’s stomach. It comes to a rolling boil, ready to spill up and out his throat, a touch of acid burning the back of his tongue. He scrambles out of bed and sprints to the bathroom down the hall. The door flies open, lights flickering on as he slaps a free hand not covering his mouth at the light switch. He falls to his knees at the front of the toilet and heaves, instantly discarding the contents of his stomach into the bowl. He gags once, then twice, as tears stream down his face and neck. Strong hands grip the rim of the bowl like a vice, an anchor, to hold himself steady as he trembles. Curses echo off the porcelain and back up at him as he spits a final time, flushing and slumping against the cool acrylic of the bathtub. Part of him hopes he didn’t wake up the rest of the house, but another part hopes he did; he hopes that his retching reminds them, too, of what happened.

Like they would fucking care.

Steve wipes his mouth. Clammy skin catches on his chapped lips. He groans, his heart racing, the room spinning, as he attempts to gather himself. The grimy feeling remains on his skin; his hands feel especially filthy. He inhales, shaky, and grabs onto the side of the tub. Despite his build– muscular and fit and usually capable– he struggles to stand from the floor. Once on stable feet, he shuffles to the bathroom door and pushes the button on the knob. The door locks with a soft click. He double checks by jiggling the handle. Nodding to himself, Steve turns to face the mirror, sliding off his damp t-shirt and boxers, dropping them to the floor. His hands morph into tight fists at his side, hard gaze remaining fixed on the nickel-plated faucet of the sink. Shame gnaws at him, at his insides, at his soul.

He can’t even face his own fucking reflection.

Half-moons cut into each of his palms, fingernails digging into flesh; it's a sorry attempt at trying to ground himself. He chews at his lip and cheek, a copper taste coating his tongue when the tissue becomes raw. Eyes shut, face screwed tightly, he pivots his head up. He forces his eyes open, his gaze instantly met with a stranger.

He doesn’t recognize the man in the mirror. There are still-red, still-raw scratches panning across a hard chest and running down the abdomen. Bruises are strewn sporadically down arms and shoulders. The occasional bite mark becomes visible when the man moves his arms, rotating them, inspecting them in the mirror. Focus shifts to the groin. Claw marks, desperate and haphazard, litter thick thighs, the strands of raw red leading up to his dick. Flaccid. Still sensitive. The body mimicking Steve’s gestures doesn’t seem real. It isn’t him. This shitty replica, beaten and bruised– it isn’t him.

Finally, his gaze shifts to the face.

Steve’s mouth dries up immediately, the lump in his throat growing bigger, thicker. Swallowing quickly becomes impossible. All blood drains from his face. His limbs lose feeling. He doesn’t believe it. He doesn’t remember– he cannot fucking remember.

Surrounding Steve’s right eye, swimming in sickly colors in the tender flesh of his cheek and temple, lies a blackened, bruised eye. Purples and blues and greens are painted around his swelling lid; the skin is still tender and throbbing. He brings his hand to his face and traces the wound delicately, as if he’ll further mar the skin on his own body. He flinches at the lightest touch against it.

It hurts as he starts to cry.

96 notes · View notes