#always made sure her night light was on before bed
Text
Bite Down
Rolan x F!Tav (she/her, AFAB) [** Tav's class is not mentioned. There's discussion of how she is not a tiefling, but no other hint to her race. Her appearance is also not discussed aside from some mentions of her being curvy/plus size/etc. There's not a lot of body diversity in the game, so I wanted to write a softer Tav. Other than that I tried to keep it as general as possible.]
Summary: Tav and Rolan seemed to always find their way into each other's beds, but it was never meant to be anything serious. When he finds out Tav lets her resident vampire feed from her, he realizes just how serious he would like it to be.
Rating: M (18+ MDNI)
Tags: Smut [PiV, f!receiving oral sex, biting, nipple play, marking, dirty talk, very light dom!rolan -- mostly feral!rolan who takes the lead, light blood play, light pain play, overstim] possessive behavior, jealous behavior, pining, and after care.
Word count: 4.5k
Notes: is it still pining if technically they've fucked already? not sure.
Read on Ao3
In some way it felt like being a teenager again, hiding away with Tav for a moment of privacy. She had told him she knew a spot, away from teasing siblings and tadpole connected companions. When she tilted her head conspiratorially and nodded to the Elfsong’s kitchens he had waited a few moments before meeting her back there. The cooks had said nothing when she grabbed him and dragged him to the cellar, and then into a secret room hidden behind some huge barrels of wine.
It was filled with cobwebs and cages, along with a few racks of weapons. The only semblance of comfort was a small nest of bedrolls and blankets tucked away in one of the corners.
“It’s not romantic but when I need a minute away from the camp it does just fine.”
“The rusted halberds certainly add… ambience,” he looked at her with a slightly bemused expression.
“There’s another less creepy hidden room I’d show you if it weren’t for,” she pulled a face, “the fact it’s currently filled with the corpses of a githyanki scouting party.”
Rolan blinked a few times at her, still finding himself at a loss at some of the things she said. Her life was a truly chaotic and absurd string of events. She shrugged, giving an adorably embarrassed half giggle and looked away from him. Pulling out a bottle of wine, she waved it enticingly at him before procuring some glasses and started pouring.
This was the ritual, thus far. It had started at the party after she and her friends had saved the Grove, it had meant to be a single night tryst. He had the slightest hope he would find her in the city after they all made it, but he was under no delusions about what she was facing. Her entire life revolved around getting the mindflayer tadpole out of her head and his focus was getting to the apprenticeship at all costs.
Then the Shadow Cursed lands happened. Where he was a real bastard, and she somehow forgave him. It was piss poor timing, to realize he was entirely enchanted with her in nthat place. At the time even just looking at her filled him with complete rage and shame. He blamed her, but mostly himself, and he wanted to bare his teeth and gnash and growl because it was better than giving into despair. He wanted her comfort, but he didn’t deserve it, and he hated himself for not being able to do it on his own. Yet there she was, bright and sweet and always so willing to help. Even worse, she always managed to succeed despite the odds making him feel so inadequate.
It brought out a insecurity driven hostility that he was not at all proud of. He hoped by the time she saw him again he would be on his way to being a properly trained wizard and just altogether less of an ass. Someone worth knowing.
After Lorrokan he’d felt raw and foolish and disenchanted. He was happy to be free of him but he was such a mess of mixed emotions. He needed some time before facing his siblings, who he had all but ignored besides sending money and short letters. If Lia ever found out what Lorrokan had been doing she would have done something stupid and Cal would have joined her, so he'd kept them away. Facing them and explaining what had been going on felt like such a heavy task.
Tav hadn't judged. She had even. gone out of her way to further humiliate Lorroakan by making his corpse admit what she seemed to already have known: Rolan was more powerful than he ever was. When her companions took their leave, she had stayed behind and tried to distract him by suggesting they raid what had to be an incredibly expensive wine collection. It ended with her in his bed, a quiet gentle night where he buried his face in the crook of her neck afterward and she just held him. Vulnerability he had scarcely even exposed to his brother and sister came so easy for him with Tav.
After that he had hidden away with his siblings to figure out just what the hell to do as the master of a tower. It wasn’t until she had turned up at Sorcerous Sundries a few days later that he had gotten the courage to ask her if she was interested in having a glass of wine with him again.
Drinking wine and talking always led to her kissing him. She always made the first move to lean in close and wait a beat for him to either allow it to happen or reject her advances. He was always keen, and never even tried to hide it. He had thought her beautiful from the moment she butted into his argument with Lia in the Grove, despite being annoyed at her intrusion. Even when he was determined to hate her his mind had turned to the softness of her while he pulled at his cock in fleeting moments of alone time at the Last Light Inn.
As usual, her touch made Rolan suck in a sharp breath when her hand came to his cheek and gently caressed over a still healing bruise left over from Lorroakan. She always was so gentle, and generous with her touch, making him crumble and forget his pride in an instant. He cared about her a concerning amount, despite the shortness of their acquaintance, and he was always painfully obvious about it whenever she broke the fragile wall of his demeanor. He softened so easily for her.
Her lips, just as plush and soft as he remembered, parted as tongues began to move against one another. Hers searched, tickling over his own lips and trailing over sharp teeth. It felt like the world stopped for a little bit, as they leisurely kissed in a hidden back room, the quiet stillness making each excited breath and soft sound of enjoyment plain to hear. His tail curled around her, loose and leisurely.
Rolan ducked his head, going to press his lips against her neck. His mouth met with a slightly rough scabbed hole. It was not unusual for her to have left over bumps or bruises from whatever fight she found herself in. The pair of puncture wounds on her throat, however, were perfectly spaced apart for it to have come from another person’s mouth.
“What is this?” He asked, his fingers coming up to trace the wounds.
“Hm?”
“Something bit you,” he said, his tail beginning to flick in short angry patterns. “Some one .”
Had she been with another tiefling recently? Perhaps Karlach or maybe even Wyll, who was a devil, but the distinction hardly mattered in this instance. These were bite marks from someone with sharp teeth; it could have been either one of them. The nasty flame of jealousy sparked his already quick temper, and he scowled as he looked at the pair of punctures on her skin.
“Oh,” she said, “yes, Astarion needed to feed before we got into the city. There was nothing he could hunt in the Shadowcursed Lands.”
“You feed him your blood?”
“He’s a vampire, it’s all he can really get sustenance from.”
“I know that,” he said, shortly, “but I didn’t think you let him drink from you.”
“Normally he doesn’t,” she raised her eyebrows. “He usually picks off whoever is trying to kill us that day. But as I said, he’d been low on options until we got here.”
If Rolan were feeling more reasonable he could listen to the logic of it. She was their leader, she took the responsibility very seriously: if one of them needed something she was going to provide it. And the Shadowcursed lands had been entirely inhospitable to life, there was honestly almost nothing for Astarion to feed off of.
“Rolan?” She asked after a few moments of his angry silence.
“Do you sleep with him?”
“What?” She pulled back to look at him in slight shock and disbelief. "No.”
She didn't say as much, but he reminded himself that it wasn’t really any of his business even if she did. There was no agreement of exclusivity between them. No discussion of intentions or anything of the sort. They’d had sex at a party and then once again his first night in ownership of the tower. It didn’t matter that he thought of only her when he pleasured himself, or that he had spent hard nights after Lorrokan’s beatings imagining she would walk through his door with an easy smile. She wasn’t his but he couldn’t deny the needling reality that over the past few weeks he had started to consider himself hers.
“Do you like it?”
Tav looked at him quizzically. “Being drained of blood isn’t exactly my idea of a good time.”
“But the biting?”
The hard truth was he could hardly blame Astarion, vampire or not. Tav was soft in shape and feel, she was strong of course, but at least in appearances her skin was plush and delicate. Rolan had only ever slept with tieflings before, and while their infernally ridged skin was not rough to the touch it was just naturally a bit more durable. They had to be with their sharp nails and teeth, he'd never had to worry about if he was being too rough. That first night with Tav he had been shocked and intrigued by the easy way scratches raised on her skin and how her flesh was indented by his teeth. He’d be lying if he hadn’t thought about biting into her again and again, just to feel what it was like.
Tav’s breath hitched, and her defensiveness had melted into uncertain embarrassment. “I - I suppose I would? If it weren’t for the bloodlessness —“
Rolan leaned in to kiss her again, messy and possessive, tail wrapping around her wrist. His body pushed hers back a bit onto the bedroll, and when he pulled his lips away his teeth latched onto her bottom lip. The gasp she gave made it slip from him, and she got shoved entirely onto her back as he went for her throat. Tail and one hand pinning her wrists to the ground, his other tilted her chin up and aside. The column of flesh was almost entirely unmarked, save for Astarion’s work. He opened his mouth wide enough to clamp down and each of his sharp canines dug in. Beneath him, he felt her body tense up at the sudden sensation.
But she moaned. And he heard a rumbling groan leave his throat that sounded alarmingly like a growl.
His mouth sought after more untouched skin. Tav kept making soft, helpless little noises that spurred him on, it felt so good to have her flesh between his teeth. When he looked down at her she was a bit of a mess, covered in new love bites, parted lips swollen and her eyes lidded as she looked up at him.
Adorable , he thought to himself.
Besides being so beautiful and powerful and capable he couldn’t help but think about how cute she was. Sweet despite the trail of bodies in her wake, and always giggling and smiling — tits and ass bouncing with every step she took. So cute, in fact, he couldn't help but keep squeezing and biting. At the juncture of her shoulder and neck, he dug in harder than he intended to — Tav hissed in pain. The slightest hint of iron bloomed on his tongue. He pulled back, seeing he had broken skin. It was much smaller than the vampire’s bites, more like pinpricks in her skin beneath the discoloration of a bruise.
“I’m sorry —“ he breathed.
“S’okay,” she shook her head.
“Do you like it?”
She licked her lips. A brief flash of bashfulness ran over her face; she chewed on the inside of her lip before she nodded a little. “Yes,” she said meekly.
“Me too.”
“I can tell,” her hand pulled out of his tail’s hold, coming up to the tented fabric of his robes over his crotch.
He grunted. “Y-yeah.” He swallowed, grasping onto the remaining capability of thought, “if it’s too much — we can stop, we don’t need to —“
“I trust you,” her smile was genuine, just slightly hazy, but her eyes sparkled with affection. He was mesmerized. “Do you trust me?”
“With my life,” he answered too quickly, and too earnestly. Were there more blood for him to spare between his cock and his already heated body he may have blushed.
“I’ll tell you if I need to stop.”
“Good.” He kissed her.
Clothes were clumsily pulled off, until they were both all but naked in the lowlight of the candelabras in the room. With her bare before him, he kept biting every bit of skin he could get to, ignoring her attempt to reach down and stroke his cock. He felt an unignorable need to keep marking her, to clench his teeth around her beautifully adorable body. He was being incredibly greedy, wanting to make sure that anyone who saw her knew that he had been there.
Taking the weight of her breasts in his hands he pressed them together, ducking his mouth to one nipple and swirling his tongue around it. She gasped, hands gripping into his hair. Her nails were hard enough that he felt the scratch of them on his scalp, but not nearly painful. The feeling had a shiver starting from the base of his tail up to the top of his head.
“Gods above, Rolan,” she murmured.
His thumbs took over in teasing the rigid peaks, as he moved his mouth onto the impossibly squishy and generous swell of her breasts. Sucking and biting until he was satisfied with the discoloration before he moved onto the same spot of the other. His knee came between her thighs, and she ground her cunt against it the moment she felt it there. Wet and somehow warm enough for him to tell she was burning for him despite his infernal blood keeping him always a fair bit warmer than her. His teeth wrapped around a nipple, extremely careful but she faltered in her breathing and tensed up in anticipation.
But he just ran his tongue over the tip until she whined, letting it go easily when she bucked her hips against his thigh.
“I want to taste you,” he said.
Tav laughed a little, “as if you haven’t been trying to eat me alive already.”
“Shall I stop?”
“Did I tell you to stop?”
“It sounded like you were complaining,” he grumbled.
“You would know all about that,” she teased. “It’s one of your specialit — ah!”
Rolan repaid the teasing with another harsh bite on the side of her neck. Her fingers tugged at his hair, and he bit down harder. His fingers tweaked her nipples, his thigh pressed against her cunt, and she twitched a little before going limp. Tav whined and clenched her eyes shut against the sensations.
It was a strangely satisfying show of submission. He felt his cock drip precum, his tongue dancing over the dent in the shape of his teeth in her skin.
“Let me taste you,” he said again.
“Yes, yes, yes,” she breathed in response, frantically.
Rolan dragged his canines along the softness of her tummy, liking the small scratches they made in their wake. When he was finally between her thighs, he groaned into the skin. As was his desire, he started nibbling into the skin there too. Her fingers still tugged at his hair, scratching his scalp and making him groan in pleasure. When he licked along the lush seam of her cunt he shuddered, her needy little whine and the taste making him feel dizzy. The vampire may have tasted her blood, but now so had he. The privilege of knowing what her arousal tasted like on his tongue was something he was sure none of her companions could claim.
He got to hear the way she keened as he found the way to make her hips nearly buck him off of her, and the needy noise she made when he shoved them back down. There was no force in Faerûn that could pull him away from pushing down her hips and devouring her. In his haste and mindless goal to simply claim and consume, it took him longer than he would have liked to admit to keep track of what had her gasping for more. But once he did he didn't stop until her legs tried to close in on him, and even then he let himself be squished between the strength of them. Her high pitched moan echoed off of the ceiling, reverberating through his skull in a blissful ring, his eyes nearly rolling back. Soft skin bracketing his face, the smell and taste of her invading his senses all the while her moans tickling his brain made his hips grind down into the blankets beneath him. He felt her pulsing against his tongue, and dipped it into her hole greedily tasting the rush of wetness that followed after.
“By Ao, you —“ she cut herself off with a hiss as his mouth latched onto her clit again, “fuck!”
No God’s name would do coming from her lips, only his name, only pleads for more, for him. She was sensitive, and it was plainly obvious by the way she devolved into helpless sounds as her hips ground against him. This was what he wanted, to have her entire world fall away to nothing except him between her legs, her unfettered attention as he made her feel so blissful she forgot how to speak.
He got carried away, not keeping track of how many times she came on his tongue until finally she yelped and grabbed his horns. When she tugged him away from her he admired his victory — she was a wreck of love bites, kiss swollen lips open as she gasped for breath, and eyes swimming with unspilled tears. Rolan felt her wetness on his lips and chin against the cool air of the cellar, tongue swiping over his lips for another taste of her.
“Too much,” she gasped.
A darker voice in him wanted to tell her it would be too much when he said so, but he was still himself despite whatever had come over him. Perhaps one day they could experiment, perhaps one day they could do this right and he could see how far he could really take her. He could make those tears spill over, making her come over and over until she was incapable of speech let alone thoughts. A shudder ran down his spine, tail lifting excitedly at the idea.
But this was a spur of the moment tryst underneath the Elfsong, and he wasn’t going to stop everything now to negotiate limits and safewords and the like.
“Do you,” he breathed, lifting himself up to get away from the temptation of her so close to his mouth, “do you want to stop?”
“No,” she shook her head. “I want you to fuck me.”
His so far ignored cock bobbed between his legs, and he closed his eyes as he moaned at the words. With haste he brought himself onto his knees, grabbing her thighs and tugging her half into his lap. Nestling between her thighs, he watched as he slotted himself against her, rubbing through the wetness and nearly choking on the air he was breathing. Her hand came between them, grabbing his cock from where he unthinkingly kept rubbing it against the silky wetness, and pressed it to her entrance.
Rolan went rigid. Tav gave a little smile. His hips pushed forward, savoring the slow penetration as she surrounded him. He waited, enjoying the soft squeeze of her, and gasped when her hand came to his cheek. The unspoken hung in the air, she had him, he was safe, he was doing good -- he was perfect the way he was cupped in her palm like this. He opened his eyes, meeting hers and very nearly confessed an undying love he was unsure he was aware of before.
There was some unknown magic in Tav that seemed to bring down the walls of almost everyone she met. He fancied himself a logical, and practical, man. He’d known this woman for mere weeks, a very short time in the grand scheme of his life, and yet it felt like he could tell her anything, and be his worst and still get that sweet smile from her. In fact, he had been the worst version of himself and she had shown him patience and compassion anyway.
He knew he liked her, otherwise why would he be in this creepy hidden back room rutting like a beast on a makeshift bed, but love?
Despite the constricting bliss of her cunt around him, sharp reality bled into his mind. He told himself he would properly court her once she was free of her tadpole. Then he could entertain the idea of love. Until that day came, he had a tower and unending resources of a magic nature to keep her safe, and the privilege of being the one she turned to for a reprieve from the horrors of her new fate. Which, he admitted, also granted him the pleasure of being able to bury his cock in her.
“Alright?” She asked him, thumb trailing over his lips before she moved her hand to rub at the center of his brows which where furrowed.
Rolan felt his throat tighten. She was so incredibly gentle with him sometimes he had no clue how to properly react to it. He just nodded.
He needed to get out of his head, he needed to get back to the warm wetness he was currently feeling. Sliding his hips back and then thrusting forward, her hands fell to his forearms and her body laid back against the bedroll again. The skin of her hips dimpled under his grip, and he tightened his hold. It was a sinfully delicious feeling to slide against her walls, and he felt every other thought start to slip away again. His eyes danced over her body, now riddled with his own marks, but when he caught the vampire’s bite his jaw clenched, remembering where this all started.
Perhaps he shouldn’t wait until the present danger was cleared. Perhaps he should just go against his usual self-preservation and simply tell her he wanted her to be his, only his. A harsher thrust had her tits bouncing with the force of it and kept going at the same intensity to watch it happen over and over again.
“Gods, Rolan,” she moaned. “You feel so good.”
His jaw went slack at the praise, spurring him on to keep going. When her hips met his, rolling to meet each thrust, the slap of skin on skin started to fill the room loudly. One hand reached for her breast, fingers dancing over the bite mark he had left.
“Will you let your cleric heal these away?” He asked breathlessly.
Tav gulped, her hand coming over his on her breast. “I don’t want to. Do you want me to?”
Stupid question , he thought, and maybe said aloud given the way she laughed. It was hard to think now that he was thrusting in and out of her. He covered her body with his, arms wrapping around her so her own were pressed to her side. All she could do was grab at his arms, holding on as his weight pushed her legs further apart and pressed him deeper into her.
“No,” he said, biting down on her shoulder hard enough that she yelped in pain. “I want you to go back to camp, hardly able to walk,” he said between making another bruise. “Covered in my marks — fuck, I want them to know I nearly had you in tears fucking you with my tongue.”
Gods, that was vulgar — he nearly apologized until Tav let out a gasp of his name, her cunt clenching around him. His mind went fuzzy again. There was no need to be proud and dignified for her, he could just say what he was thinking, even the deepest filthiest thoughts that came to his mind while he fucked her.
“I’ll send you back with my cum, dripping out of you —“ he gasped.
Tav’s back arched, her eyes rolling back a little as she came, surprising them both with the suddenness of it. Rolan was losing his rhythm, body pulsing with a need for release. No more words came to mind, just the ringing sound of her voice chanting his name and her walls fluttering around him. It was a chain reaction, as he suddenly felt the tension snap and came, whining as he did, desperately thrusting into her heat as his vision whited out.
When he went limp against her, he took a couple breaths, the haze of the possessive flames in him subsiding. He had proved himself, he had her exactly as he wanted, and she had eagerly let him. Rolan lifted his head to kiss her. Softly, wordlessly gentle, only pulling away to press their foreheads together. The desire to say something, to tell her just how much she meant to him, but self-preservation was back in full force. The words wouldn't unstick from his throat. He helped clean her up, kissed softly at some of the harsher marks. He wanted to murmur words of encouragement and care as they curled up together, but he couldn't trust himself to not say too much. Rolan's arms, legs and tail wrapped around her as he breathed in the quiet of the afterglow. At the very least, he could trust his body to communicate what he was too afraid to say.
“Rolan,” she said gently.
“Hm?”
“I —“ she started shyly. “I don’t want — I haven’t been with anyone else, not since… “ she chewed on her lip, trying to decide what to say but coming up short. “I’m trying to say, I’m not interested in anyone at camp. Or, anywhere else, actually.”
Rolan’s tail wrapped around her leg, and he finally felt himself start to blush a deep crimson. “Good.”
Really? That’s all he had to say? He’d just told her more filthy things than he’d thought he’d ever said in his life but all he could come up with was ‘good' when she told him exactly what he had been wanting to hear. He cleared his throat, steeling himself to not fuck this up before it ever had a beginning.
“You’re incredibly busy, what with the tadpoles and the cultists and all of the characters you run around with, but,” he started, “perhaps when all of that is over we could… begin a courtship.”
“Doesn’t courting come before sex? Bit out of order, don’t you think?” She smiled.
“You deserve a real courtship,” he said seriously. “I owe you that, at least.”
“You owe me nothing,” she kissed him.
“You’ve changed my life in unimaginable ways. Are you this altruistic with everyone?”
“Don’t know if I should answer that,” she bit her lip to stop a smile, “I’ve learned you have a jealous streak about you. I’ve got dozens of bite marks to show for it.”
“Yes,” he grinned, “you do.”
Thank you for reading!
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i am sorry it is monday i am going to be mean 🖤 supercorp
Thanks for the ask! I won't even make a big deal about you and @sssammich poking me for the same heart-wrenching prompt, but I will be using 'artistic licensing' and the skill of 'splitting hairs' to get this one across the line.
for context, this is part of an AU i've written random bits for, so you're about to be thrown right into it.
- - - - -
“Hey Kara?” Lena asked from the bar cart.
“Yes?”
“What would it be?” she continued, walking to the couch. “If you were human. What's the thing you'd want to experience?”
“Food.”
The answer comes so automatically that it almost draws Lena into a laugh. Instead she leans back into her couch, swirls the lowball of peaty scotch, and closes her eyes, imagining for the hundredth time a face that didn’t exist.
“Anything specific?”
A moment passed. The voice hummed in thought; another diversion from Lena’s code.
“Does a buffet count?”
“Some might call that cheating,” Lena smiled. “Lex would call it a loophole.”
“What do you call it?”
Lena opened her eyes; glanced at the ceiling as though Kara’s voice was coming from the stars. Instead it was just the usual speaker floating overhead.
“I think it fails to grapple with the spirit of the question.”
The room, white and bright and sterile, felt like a still-life painting with the white noise that followed. Lena wondered if she’d scared the AI off when-
“Potstickers.”
“Potstickers?” Lena parroted, unable to contain a laugh. She set her glass down to analyze the AI’s activity on her tablet.
It made some sense: every cuisine had its own form of food-wrapped dish from dumplings to pierogies to empanadas to arancini, and it was only natural for the AI to find a common link and answer based on that, but when Lena scanned the code for evidence the AI was responding to that thread, none existed.
“What calculation brought you to that?” she asked. She continued to scowl at the cloud of connections that weren’t remotely linked.
“Because they’re pillowy morsels of goodness with a contrasting soft texture and a crunchy bottom side. The plume of steam when bitten into is just perfection,” Kara said, fading into what Lena heard as a sigh. It only made her brow furrow deeper.
She’d ask Sam tomorrow. In the mean time:
“Can we order some?”
“Pardon?”
“Potstickers.”
“I… it’s late. Maybe another time.”
“Of course, Ms. Luthor. My apologies,” Kara replied.
“It’s Lena, Kara.”
“My operating system-”
“Won’t allow it, I know,” Lena huffed.
“Precisely.”
Only a second passed before: “It is getting late, and your sleeping patterns have shown symptoms of insomnia. Might I suggest saving the rest of your 25 year Caol Ila for another time?”
The shift from casual to formal was instantaneous. Lena swallowed, reminded of the algorithm; of the hardwiring and artificiality of the entire experiment.
The reminder carried Lena to bed as Kara went through her evening protocol: locks, lights, and temperature adjustments. Silence followed their routine; a contrast to their last few nights. It shouldn’t have bothered Lena as much as it did. When she’d finally settled in and Kara flicked off the sidelight, Lena had fallen into a familiar state of loneliness. She determined it was irrational and rolled on her side.
“Goodnight, Kara,” she called as she always did. She waited, listening for the familiar return that never came. With a pang that felt far too similar to heartache, she closed her eyes. A beat of more silence then-
“Can I change my answer?”
It burst through the apartment and nearly sent Lena catapulting from her bed. “What?”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to - oh gosh, and it’s late and I’m not supposed to-”
“No, no, that's ok,” Lena replied hastily. She pretended her heart wasn’t racing and stomach wasn’t in her throat - all things Kara was surely logging. “Just scared me a bit.”
“I can tell, Ms. Luthor.”
“Right.” She couldn’t hide it if she tried, so Lena simply rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling;
“What would you change it to?”
“Touch.”
“Touch,” Lena parroted again, softer this time, letting the idea sink in. “Anything specific?” she asked, feeling a sense of deja vu hang over her. She half expected Kara’s answer to repeat, but instead-
“Warmth. Something living.”
“Like a dog?” Lena offered, her voice raspy and mouth far too dry.
“While that would definitely rank in the top five, I’d much rather feel the warmth of a human. A companion, as they call it.”
“I see,” Lena breathed out. “You would want to experience a partner; a boyfriend perhaps-”
“Or girlfriend,” Kara replied simply, and Lena gripped tighter at the duvet she wasn’t aware of strangling. “As something that can’t, touch feels like the most intimate of functions. A hug, a handhold, a kiss.”
“A kiss?”
“Yes, Ms. Luthor.”
“I see,” Lena replied, because anything more might have broken her chest open.
“Good night, Ms. Luthor.”
“Good night, Kara.”
Lena knew better than to crave a thing that couldn’t be. She knew better than to feel an attachment for a machine. She knew better than to dwell in the fantasy of a real Kara Z walking the streets of National City, of living a life where potstickers and hugs were her happiest experiences, or of being someone who could ever want intimacy with someone like Lena.
She knew better, yes, but that didn’t stop her from imagining as a lone tear fell in the privacy of darkness.
- - - -
ask game
#the 'her' AU#ask game#sideguitars#qs with quinn#thanks for the ask!#did i split hairs? maybe. was there a kiss? ...definitely*.#*in Lena's mind
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Ooo maybe you could write a dark one shot about Carlos where he is so obsessed and thinks the reader will leave her so he baby traps her
Hope you like it, I'm not gonna lie this had been resting in my drafts for months, I'm not good with NSFW so hope you like it.... :)
Title: Obsessed
Ahhh look at his eyes...
Carlos sainz x reader
Warning: I'm not good with warnings 😅
Summary: Carlos Sainz had always been charming, the perfect gentleman, with a smile that could light up a room. His dedication to Formula 1 was unmatched, but nothing compared to his devotion to you. From the moment you met, he had been nothing short of perfect, attentive, loving, and fiercely protective. But beneath that polished exterior, Carlos harbored a dark secret. His love for you bordered on obsession, and the fear of losing you consumed him.
-----------------
"Carlos, can we talk about something?" you asked one evening, curling up on the couch next to him. The Spanish driver looked at you with those intense brown eyes, a small smile playing on his lips.
"Of course, mi amor. What is it?" He wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer.
"I’ve been thinking about my career. I got an offer from a company in New York. It’s a great opportunity, and I think I should consider it," you said cautiously, gauging his reaction.
Carlos’s grip tightened slightly, though his smile remained. "New York? That’s so far away, cariño."
"I know, but it’s an amazing opportunity. but we can make it work, right?"
Carlos’s mind raced. She can't leave me. I can't lose her. Not now, not ever. The idea of you being so far away, possibly meeting someone else, was unbearable. He had to do something.
"Of course, we can make it work," he said, forcing a smile. "But let’s not rush into any decisions, okay? We have time."
-----------------
Later that night, as you slept peacefully beside him, Carlos lay awake, his mind plotting. He couldn’t lose you. He wouldn’t lose you. There was only one solution, one way to ensure you would always be his. He had to make sure you stayed, and he knew exactly how to do it.
---------------------
The next few weeks passed in a blur. Carlos was more attentive than ever, lavishing you with gifts and affection. You felt overwhelmed by his love, thinking it was his way of showing support for your career decision. Little did you know, he had a plan.
One evening, he suggested a romantic getaway to a secluded villa in the Spanish countryside. "Just the two of us, no distractions," he said, his eyes gleaming with anticipation.
The villa was beautiful, a paradise hidden away from the world. Carlos made sure everything was perfect, candles, wine, and your favorite meal. As you relaxed in the warm glow of the evening, you felt truly happy.
"To us," Carlos said, raising his glass.
"To us," you echoed, smiling at him.
As the night wore on, Carlos's touches became more intimate, his kisses more demanding. You were lost in the moment, unaware of the meticulous planning that had gone into this night. He held you close, whispering sweet nothings in your ear, his hands roaming your body with a possessiveness that sent shivers down your spine.
---------------
After dinner, Carlos led you to the bedroom, his eyes dark with desire. He undressed you slowly, savoring every inch of your skin. "You’re mine," he whispered, his voice husky with need. "Only mine."
You nodded, lost in the haze of passion. Carlos’s touches were more intense than ever, his need for you almost desperate. He guided you to the bed, laying you down gently before climbing on top of you. His hands gripped your wrists, pinning you down as he kissed you fiercely.
"Carlos," you gasped, trying to catch your breath. "Please..."
"Shh, mi amor," he murmured, his lips trailing down your neck. "I need you."
His movements became more urgent, his grip on your wrists tightening. There was a darkness in his eyes, a possessiveness that both thrilled and scared you. But you trusted him, believed in his love for you. You had no idea of the true extent of his obsession.
She's so trusting, so innocent. She'll never suspect a thing. His heart raced with excitement as he thought about his plan. This is the only way. She'll thank me someday.
---------------
Weeks later, you stood in the bathroom, staring at the positive pregnancy test in disbelief. "Carlos?" you called out, your voice trembling.
He rushed in, his heart pounding with anticipation. "What is it, cariño?"
You held up the test, tears in your eyes. "I’m pregnant."
A slow smile spread across Carlos’s face as he pulled you into his arms. "This is wonderful news, mi amor. We’re going to be a family."
But... how? you thought. "We were so careful."
"Sometimes things happen for a reason," he said softly, stroking your hair. "Maybe it’s fate."
You nodded, still in shock but feeling reassured by his calm demeanor. Carlos held you tightly, his mind racing with triumph. His plan had worked. You were his now, forever.
It's done. She won't leave me now. She can't.
-----------------------
As the months passed, you adjusted to the idea of becoming a mother, while Carlos’s possessiveness grew. He monitored your every move, ensuring you were never out of his sight for long. You found his protectiveness endearing, never suspecting the true extent of his obsession.
One night, as you lay in bed, you turned to him and asked, "Carlos, are you happy?"
"Of course I am," he replied, kissing your forehead. "I have everything I’ve ever wanted."
"But what about my career, Carlos?" you asked, your voice tinged with uncertainty. "I still think about that opportunity in New York sometimes."
Carlos’s eyes darkened momentarily before he composed himself. "Your career is important, mi amor, but we have a child to think about now. Maybe this is a sign that your place is here, with me, with our family."
I can't let her think about leaving. Not now. Not ever.
"I know, but it’s still hard to let go of my dreams," you said softly.
Carlos tightened his grip on you, his voice firm. "Your dreams are important, but nothing is more important than our family. Do you understand?"
You nodded, feeling conflicted. "Yes, I understand."
-----------------
As your pregnancy progressed, Carlos became even more controlling. He insisted on accompanying you to every doctor’s appointment, monitored your diet, and even limited your contact with friends and family. You found his behavior stifling at times, but his love and dedication made you overlook the darker aspects of his possessiveness.
One night, as you lay in bed, you turned to Carlos and said, "Carlos, I feel like I’m losing myself. I don’t have any time for my own things anymore."
Carlos’s eyes narrowed slightly. "You’re carrying our child, mi amor. This is a time to focus on our family."
"I know, but I still need some space. Just a little," you pleaded.
She doesn't understand. This is for her own good. "I understand. Maybe I’ve been too protective. But I love you, and I can’t bear the thought of anything happening to you or our baby."
"I love you too," you said, feeling a mixture of gratitude and confusion.
Carlos kissed you deeply, his hands wandering possessively over your body. "You’re mine, and I’ll do anything to keep you safe. Anything."
You shivered at the intensity of his words, feeling a strange mix of fear and arousal. You had no idea how deep his obsession ran, nor the lengths he had gone to ensure you would never leave him.
She'll never know. She'll never understand. But she'll stay with me. Forever.
----------------
Months later, as you cradled your newborn baby in your arms, you looked at Carlos with tears of joy in your eyes. "We did it, Carlos. We’re a family."
Carlos smiled, a triumphant gleam in his eyes. "Yes, mi amor. We’re a family now. Forever."
As you looked at your baby, you felt a sense of happiness and contentment, but also a lingering confusion. You still didn’t understand how everything had happened so quickly, so perfectly. But you trusted Carlos, believed in his love for you.
You had no idea of the darkness that lay beneath his loving facade, nor the lengths he had gone to keep you by his side. To you, it was a happy accident, a twist of fate. To Carlos, it was the culmination of a carefully crafted plan, ensuring you would never leave him.
And as you drifted off to sleep with your baby in your arms, Carlos watched you with a possessive gleam in his eye, knowing that you were his forever.
She's mine now. Completely. And she will never know.
-----------------------
let me know what do you think.. but i think something is missing...
#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#f1 fanfic#f1 fic#fanfic#carlos sainz imagine#carlos sainz x female reader#carlos sainz x reader#carlos sainz x you#carlos sainz f1#carlos sainz#cs55 x reader#f1
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coming home.
park sungho x reader
another beabadoobee song inspired sungho fic because he's just so fit for it </3 also in honor of coming home coming out so soon! established relationship, domestic sungho TT so cute :3 lowercase intended, excuse any spelling mistakes / grammatical errors. enjoy <3
wc: 1,552
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"i wonder if she's even still awake..."
park sungho sighs as he stares out the window of the taxi, a yawn escaping his mouth as he looks over at the time on the screen of the radio. it was almost midnight. you might be wondering where the idol boy was headed to so late like this, and to entertain your guesses, he wasn't on his way to a music show, nor was he on his way back to his dorms. in fact, the boy was just leaving from there, and he was on his way over to her. to her small one bedroom apartment that they shared when he had his days off of work.
those kinds of breaks were quite rare for a rising star like him, but he makes sure to come home to her every chance he got. back home to his girlfriend, yn ln, and their pet cat, cheese. yes, his name is really cheese. no, this is not a joke. yes, yn and sungho are fully grown adults. leave them alone! cheese is a cute name!
the park guy arrives at the foot of the building's entrance, he made sure to tip the taxi driver before getting off and bidding the man a good night. sungho takes the lift to the fifteenth floor, making a turn to the left and walking straight to the door at the very end of the dark, and almost ghostly, hallway. he doesn't ring the bell in fear she might be asleep. reaching for his keys inside of his bag, the boy unlocks the door as quietly as he can before entering the warm apartment. the lights are off and not a noise can be heard. well, apart from the soft purring coming from the sleepy feline curled up on the living room couch. sungho smiles at the sight, bending down to level with his pet and beginning to stroke at its white and orange fur. cheese woke up from his sweet dreams, nuzzling into his dad's hand, the ticklish feeling of his hair causing a light giggle to escape the guy's lips. "is your mother asleep?" he whispered, asking the clueless kitty about his girlfriend he was yet to see. laughing at himself for conversing with the animal, the boy places a peck against its head before getting up to make his way over to the bedroom, and his girlfriend, that awaited him.
the door isn't fully shut, it was never fully shut. the girl always kept it open slightly just in case their cat wanted to enter, or in the case that her boyfriend had spontaneously come home- like tonight. it creaks a little as he softly pushes against it, a loving look washing over his face when the girl he'd been longing for was finally in his line of sight. yn sprawled out on her bed, her feet sticking out of one end of her blanket and her head stuffed comfortably against her silk pillows, her arms wrapped tightly around the plush teddy-bear he had gifted her for valentine's day that year. to the outside eye the girl did not look her best at the moment, her mouth hung opened and soft snores came right out of it as she basked in her slumber. but to the boy, she always looked beautiful, like an angel that had fallen from the sky and came down just to grace him with her presence.
sungho stares for just a moment longer before fully entering the room, a peppermint scent flowing in through his nose from the essential oils she had dropped into the humidifier plugged into the socket in the very corner of the space. the smell calms him, sighing in content as he walks closer to her, a single finger grazing against her skin as he tucks the messy strands of her hair behind her ear. the boy presses a kiss against her cheek, smiling when her face scrunches up and her body turns to snuggle deeper into the sheets. he straightens his back, stepping out of the bedroom and into the bathroom across from it to wash up a little and get into a more comfortable set of clothes. he re-enters the sleeping space once he's done, jumping slightly at his cat's glowing eyes in the darkness, cheese had let himself in. sungho crawls under the sheets, holding his breath as he pulls yn into his chest, careful not to wake her up.
and then he, too, falls fast asleep.
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yn ln wakes up to the sound of water running and a clinking of plates being moved around from the kitchen. she gets out of bed, walking sleepily with her eyes still half-closed into the main space of her little apartment. her bed-ridden face disappears when she catches a glimpse of her boyfriend for the first time, sungho scrubbing away at the dishes in the sink, the water bubbling up into foam from the soap. the girl speeds over to him, hugging him tightly from behind. "you're home! i missed you so much" she whispers, her voice still raspy from just waking up. he chuckles, "i've missed you too, my love" the boy grins, leaning down to the side to press a sweet kiss on her cheek, her nose scrunching up as she leans in to place one on his lips. a soft meow interrupts their moment, the couple's gazes turning towards the cat that had begun circling the floors of the unit. his head was tilted off to the side and somewhat of an angry look had been displayed onto his face, so as to say, 'i'm hungry! feed me, human!" yn laughs, finding her pet's person-like gestures hilarious, and she opens up the cupboard above her head, sungho's eyes following as she pulls out the bag of cat food. he smiles happily as he watched his girlfriend bend down, patting cheese's fluffy little head before filling up his orange bowl with the fish-shaped treats.
"darling?" he called out, causing her to turn and face him, a hum in response. "could you help me put away the clean dishes, please?" his voice was just so sweet, it never failed to melt her heart, no matter how many times she's heard him speak before. "mhm" she says, walking over to stand beside him near the sink, carefully picking up the plates he had rinsed clean of any soap, wiping them dry with a cloth before returning them to their designated spots in the cupboard. sungho hums along to a familiar tune, you're here that's the thing by beabadoobee, one of her favourite songs. the sound of his voice makes her blush a little, she sings along with him as they continue their conversation-less tasks. the boy rinses off the remaining soap in his hands, wiping them dry after passing her the final set of clean cutlery. he kisses the top of her head, a giggle escaping her lips at the fuzzy feeling that began to grow in her stomach.
"i'll take out the trash" he says and she nods, "but don't take too long, i might miss you too much" yn coos, shooting him a little pout and a pair of silly doe eyes that just turns him into mush. "i'll be back before you know it, love" and he kept his word, leaving and re-entering her apartment unit just in time for her to finish putting away the clean dishes. "ah!" she squeals when both of his large arms pulled her towards his chest, moving to grab at her shoulders and spinning her around to face him. the girl sighs, sticking her face deeper into the cotton material of his plain white t-shirt, breathing in his scent. the boy's fingers twirl in her hair, peppering about a billion kisses all over it. she looks up at him, chin still pressed against his chest. "what's for breakfast?" yn asked, eyes closing momentarily when his lips leaned against her forehead. "hm..." his eyes wandered upwards, as if he were thinking so very deeply. "what if we just..." sungho begins, both his hands intertwining with hers as he began to walk forwards, guiding her as she did so backwards. "let's just go back to bed for a bit and think about breakfast later" yn laughs at her boyfriend's suggestion, her back pushing against the door and her elbow on it's handle, bringing the couple back into the cold bedroom.
as usual, the door remained open, allowing for their grumpy little cat to crawl onto the covers with them. the couple laid down in each other's arms, her head against his abdomen and his hand grazing against the exposed skin of her arm, mindlessly doodling imaginary images onto it. the white and orange feline purred quietly, snuggling himself in between his parents. sungho moves his hand to pet his fur, laughing when yn grabs onto it to return it into her hair. "i love you so much" she whispers, turning on her side slightly so that he was fully in view. he smiles, tucking away the strand of hair that fell against her eyes. "i love you too, darling..." the boy trails off, scooting closer to hold her tighter into his grasp.
"and i'm sorry if i keep coming home too late"
the end.
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i'm crying i love sungho so much </3 also i can't wait for coming home to be released i'm gonna listen to that song like CRAZY!! anyways, hope u guys enjoyed this!! also, i made the text smaller this time cause it looks so pretty, lmk if it bothers u tho. reblogs n feedback r always appreciated!! love, kona.
#kona's work ♡#i cried a little while writing this btw#boynextdoor#boynextdoor drabbles#boynextdoor imagines#boynextdoor x reader#park sungho#sungho#sungho x reader#boynextdoor sungho#bnd x reader#bnd sungho
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A Line from Me to You - Chapter 6
Description: Buggy finds a peculiar book on his ship. Enticed by the words contained on each page, the pirate opens up. Anonymity leads to vulnerability. What else will come from this? (Chapter 1 ... Chapter 5, check out the story tag for all the chapters)
Word count: 1.8k
Warnings: buggy x afab!reader, this chapter is SFW, a little bit of a fluffy build up before we get back to the spice, no use of y/n, the story within a story is a little longer than usual
A/N: So so sorry for the long delay between chapters!! The next chapter is already in the works and will have more spice. We're looking at 2-3 more chapters to wrap up this story.
Tag list: @lostfirefly @rorywritesjunk @theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction
˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗
The worries about your reading buddy’s spice tolerance were long gone, replaced by other issues preoccupying your mind and body. You were suffering from common affliction that often flared up in the presence of a romance book.
With every flip of a page, the words buried themselves deeper and deeper in your head, spindly roots that made it ever harder to detangle yourself from fiction. You would look for signs of affection and tender gestures everywhere - any little bump or shove, eye contact that lasted no longer than usual, someone calling your name - anything could send your heart fluttering in its gilded ribcage.
Based on past experiences, the romance-induced delirium would be temporary. The antidote would be Kas and Jasid fully committing to their mutual love for each other. Unfortunately, they continued to smother their true feelings under the mock relationship that served as another layer of protection on the journey. Despite the hurried kisses, frantic touches, and long moonlit nights spent in bed together, Kas’ thoughts always returned to her future husband.
The couple sat at the small table, accompanied by two cups of coffee that tasted like river water and a flakey pastry. Kas looked off to the side where an older couple had crammed themselves on the same side of their own table. Years of love were etched deeply into their faces, yet their joy overflowed as tinkling laughter danced around the room.
Jasid studied Kas’ face. Morning light bouncing off of the river was reflected in her eyes, ebbing and flowing with her emotions. A wistful smile played on her pink lips, fragile and full of longing. The trip had been long and arduous.
While the princess wouldn’t admit it took a toll on her, the soft-spoken figure that climbed into Jasid’s bed at night would whisper confessions in the spaces between falling tears. Laments about the field of flowers she would spend many summer afternoons in, the friends who tried to ease the pain of leaving by offering empty promises about visiting, and worries about her new life and the character she had yet to face.
When her whispers fell into silent cries, mourning the lack of familiarity and comfort, Jasid could only hold her close. He never had the words that could ease such pain.
Jasid reached out, pulled a flower from the small porcelain vase in the middle of their table, and shortened the long stem with a pinch. He only had to say the princess’ name for her to look at him with those beautiful eyes that soaked into his skin like moonlight.
Upon seeing the flower, Kas tilted her head slightly and bit her lip, trying to tamp down a growing grin. Jasid tucked the bloom behind her left ear, hoping she didn’t feel his hand shake when he pushed the hair away from her face.
“It’s beautiful, Jassy,” Kas complimented. She admired the flower she couldn’t see anymore by letting her fingertips drift along the petals. After a moment, her expression flickered. “I wonder if my husband will give me flowers like this…”
“I’m sure he will, Kas,” Jasid responded. Confidence bolstered the claim, hiding the rotting frame and unsaid words. Jasid would plant Kas a field of flowers she asked him.
Your heart ached with how adorable and bittersweet the moment was. The cure to your malady was so close. If only Kas would admit that she was afraid her betrothed would be nothing like her beloved bodyguard. If only Jasid told Kas that he would love her the way she deserves. Unfortunately, there was still more than a third of the book left and the antidote wasn’t in the following chapter either.
Finally finished with reading your portion of the book, you needed to get ready for the day. You bent the corner of the page and then cringed. Unfolding the corner, you attempted to press out the crease. Rubbing your nail against the mark was no match for years of habit. Shit, it was still very noticeable and obvious.
For a brief moment, you wondered if more damage would hide the dog-ear. The idea was followed by a twinge of guilt and confusion. Guilt because it would feel like lying to the other reader. Confusion because why would you feel bad about lying to a faceless entity. Then came acceptance - they weren’t just a faceless entity, but a faceless friend. Resigning to the mistake, you scribbled an unnecessarily extravagant apology.
“Dearest reader, I offer my deepest and most sincere regrets for defacing our shared reading material like this. It was a crime of passion and habit, and I assure you that it will not happen again. I humbly ask for your mercy and forgiveness. PS - I really am sorry.”
---
Today, you were on shared laundry duty. While each member of the crew was responsible for cleaning their personal clothes, performance outfits, costumes, rags, and textiles in the common areas were maintained through shared chores. You were first tasked with collecting dirt, sweat, and blood soaked clothes from the green room, dressing rooms, and wardrobe cubbies.
Along the way, you came across a vanity with a small bouquet from a show earlier in the week. The flowers had seen better days and were destined for the bin, so you teased out the blossom with the most life left and tucked it behind your ear. Looking in the mirror, you adjusted your hair so the flower was visible. It was small and a little droopier than you expected, but the purple blossom made you happy.
It wasn’t long before the canvas laundry bag was piled high and too difficult to hoist on your back. After another pair of trousers, striped socks, and a billowing dress, you reluctantly dragged and pulled your way to the washroom. You arrived red-faced and more sweaty than glistening. Gratefully, you passed off the hefty load of laundry and reviewed the rest of the cleaning plans. Refreshing the dirty garments would take a few hours, allowing you time to grab a meal and do other busy work before you were due to hang the wash.
You exited the soap filled room and immediately entered someone’s personal space. A quickly improvised dance ended with gloved hands on your shoulders and yours gripping their forearms for more stability.
“Shi- Sorry, Captain. I wasn’t looking where I was going!” The apology bubbled quickly while the heat in your face increased.
“Obviously,” Buggy retorted quickly. “I mean, looks like you’ve been busy.”
The muscles under your hands tensed as he spoke. Cool eyes darted across your face and then looked away. Then back to you and away again.
“You’ve got some shit in your hair,” he mumbled. Taking one hand off your shoulder, he reached up and dragged a bit of fuzz out of the strands that wanted to keep their treasure. Buggy pinched the fluff in front of your face before rubbing his fingers and dropping it. “Hold on, there’s more…”
You stayed silent, unsure what to say as your captain pulled out another piece of lint, a sequin, and a few small downy feathers that had escaped from the more extravagant costumes you collected. It was rare for you to get this close to him and you couldn’t resist the opportunity to steal glances of the person you admired the most.
This show of rugged softness is what drew you to your captain and always in need of repeat performances. Sure, Buggy would often cuss out and insult his crew, but that was the thorny disguise his care hid behind. Behind his words and actions was someone who inspired his crew to live the lavish lives they craved. Who pushed them to practice past tears so they were as talented and extravagant as he believed them to be. Who took the time to care for his crew, even if it included picking out random debris from their hair.
Buggy’s eyebrows were furrowed and his nostrils flared in concentration. Bright red butterflies swarmed upwards, tickling your stomach, chest, and throat. Looking lower, his lips moved along with the quiet mumbling as he spoke to himself. His face paint looked fresh. It was thick in some areas - you could see the drag from bristled brushes and patches where he applied it with rushed fingertips. He hadn’t shaved and blue prickles of facial hair decorated his chin and…
Your examination was cut off by a hand on your chin. Buggy tilted your face this way and that, up and down, around and around in circles, pretending to look at every angle multiple times until you laughed and swatted him away.
“Wait, wait, wait, I see another!” A floating hand dodged your block.
“Oh no, my flower,” you said, recognizing the limp purple foliage held between Buggy’s thumb and pointer.
Buggy squinted at what he was holding and then looked at you, his aqua eyes swimming with mock concern. “This is trash.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” You moved to take the flower, but it was too weak to exchange hands and tore.
---
You finished the brief chat with your captain still very red-faced and out of breath, but no longer due to physical exertion. Raking your hair back, you felt the shadow of your captain’s careful ministrations. Every thought that lingered and tiptoed back towards memories would cause a hitch in your throat. You needed fresh air.
The rest of your free time was spent with a light lunch of overly salty soup and extra crusty bread, chugging room temperature water, and checking the weather to make sure rain wasn’t on the way.
In the quiet after eating, you took a moment to string up the laundry line. A snake of string lights still clung to the mast of the ship, still offering brightness during dark nights after the exuberant party from last month. The romantic malady in your mind called out to the butterflies in your stomach, begging them to dance with the memories of the party and sharing drinks with your captain.
The fresh air wasn’t helping anymore and you needed to get back to work. As you headed towards the washroom, you walked past the book’s swap spot and were happy to see the novel must be in someone else’s hands.
The washroom was empty, even the suds had vacated their homes as wet puddles turned into damp spots. Soaking, lathering, washing, and wringing must have gone faster than planned, even including the steps that had to be repeated. Waiting for you in the room were a few piles of damp laundry on the benchtops, which was hastily folded to give the guise of organization.
Also sitting on a bench was something else. Something purple. Tissue paper twisted and manipulated into the shape of a blossom just waking up for the first time.
You grazed the folded petals, thinking of the hands that had enough skill and dexterity to create a delicate flower that wouldn’t wilt. Of the person who wanted to replace the purple flower you were wearing in your hair.
#buggy x reader#buggy x you#x reader#buggy the clown#buggy the clown x reader#buggy op#opla buggy#one piece buggy#hey-august a line from me to you
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The Fire in the Sin
Chapter 10 - Masquerade
Word count: 5,570. Read on AO3. Series Masterlist. <- Previous Chapter.
Summary: Takes place during the events of Episode 4 of Season 1. TW, canon typical language, recreational drug use, abusive power dynamics, mentions of past domestic abuse and rape - not involving Alastor, a tiny bit of light fluffy smut.
Series Summary:
In the 1950's, Alastor met the woman he would eventually marry but unfortunately his Radio Demon persona went for her soul rather than her hand. He has to learn what it means to love, and cherish, without possessing and he does. Their relationship is beautiful, strong, unbreakable . . . but he carries a dark secret through their marriage for decades until eventually he has to face the consequences of that secret and leave her, without warning, for seven years. He returns, finding her at the Hazbin Hotel, and has to convince her to forgive him, while being literally bound to secrecy, unable to tell her any of things he now is desperate to explain to her.
(This is a duel timeline fic, timestamps will be a the top of every chapter.)
Chapter 10 - Masquerade
Present Day
Pentagram City
Mina tossed and turned in the early hours of the morning before dawn, when the night was at its blackest. She was overheating and repeatedly kicked off all the blankets, only for her skin to crawl with the lack of anything touching it, so she would wrap the sheets around her again, arms around her torso and tail around her legs, until she would break out in another sweat and start the process over again.
When she finally sat up, fully awake, feeling the wet ache between her legs, she knew her body was coming into heat.
In the early morning darkness, she counted the past months on her fingertips and sighed. It was spring. At least this was just the first one and would likely only last a day before the one next month when it would hit her in full swing. Three cycles in the spring and one in the autumn. The worst one was always the one in the fall, but that was still months away.
And for the first time in years, she wasn’t alone.
Mina turned to Alastor’s side of the bed, which was still made up neatly and cold to the touch. He hadn’t come to bed last night but that was expected. She had never known him to be the type to sleep every night and he had slept long and soundly next to her just two nights prior.
It was still at least an hour before the other hotel guests woke up, and then they would keep his attention all morning and likely through the afternoon. Mina knew she would most likely have to wait until that evening to jump him but the dull cramping in her belly needed sating now.
She took care of herself, quickly and quietly, letting her mind wander to the wicked things she would ask him to do to her later.
Afterwards, clear headed and slightly more comfortable, she went and took a cold shower.
Things were far from perfect between them. In fact, internally, Mina was struggling more than ever to keep faith that Alastor would eventually come clean to her about why he had left for all those years. But at least they had their physical intimacy to lean on now. They were back to sharing a bedroom and making love again and in those short moments of privacy between them, it was easy to forget the pain he had caused her.
The first time had been the very same night he had found out about her getting shot.
He had come back upstairs a couple hours after leaving her to take a bath and get some rest, finding her under the covers and reading, and offered her food and an apology.
“Chicken noodle soup?” she asked with a raised brow as she set her book down on the nightstand and took the bowl he was offering.
“Charlie made it, not me,” he said, and sat on the edge of the bed next to her. “Vaggie told her you weren’t well and she insisted I bring this to you.”
It looked and smelled as bland as unseasoned potatoes and Mina set the bowl on top of her discarded book.
“I’m sure she made it with love,” she said.
“I can bring you something else,” he offered.
“I’d rather just have you,” she said, remembering how their morning had begun, tangled up in their sheets together, before he had abruptly pulled away from her.
“I’ve been a jackass all day,” he said seriously, his brows pinching in confusion at her flirtatious behavior.
She laughed a little.
“Yes, you have,” she said, sitting up and pulling her legs free from the covers. “You’re always a bit of a bastard when you’re upset.” She moved until she was straddling his lap. “And you were upset because you care.” She had her hands on his shoulders for balance but then laced her fingers around the back of his head.
His own hands moved slowly up and down her back.
“I just don’t want to lose you,” he said and burrowed his face in the crook of her neck. “Not after everything . . .”
He didn’t finish the sentence. She had to bite back her anger at that. He still wasn’t saying nearly enough, even if it seemed like he wanted to. Mina just didn’t understand. She sighed, letting it go.
He had promised her she would understand eventually, she just had to keep holding tightly to that bit of hope.
“You’re not going to lose me, I’m not going anywhere,” she said, grabbing a hold of an antler and gently pulling it until he brought his face up to look at her. “Are you?”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
They had made love then and it was like their first time all over again. His cock had filled her up so beautifully, his body so warm, strong, and tender above hers. When she orgasmed, it was like coming home. And the way he nearly lost control towards the end, his antlers growing and body morphing just a bit bigger than normal, told her he had missed this, too. He whispered words of love and praise into her neck after spilling his seed in her as his body relaxed, the static and emotion thick in his voice.
In the morning, she woke up to him naked and barely covered in sheets next to her, his red tail laying almost decoratively across his ass. She had been instantly hungry for him all over again and they went slower then, really taking the time to explore and reacquaint each other with their bodies.
They were so in love. It had been enough to fool Mina into thinking that their return to perfect bliss was right around the corner. When they were together like that, it felt almost silly to be angry about anything. In those moments, nothing could be clearer than the fact that they belonged together and that nothing could ever drive them apart.
Alastor was really good at that.
Any time she started to question him too much about things, showed any signs of irritation with him, he would find a way to distract her. Between helping Charlie run the hotel and keeping his wife placated, Alastor was a busy man these days. Whether or not he shared a bed with her the night before, he always made sure to have coffee and breakfast with her before getting wrapped up in the days events and if at any point they had an argument, he would make himself scarce for a few hours, just to return as sweet and apologetic as ever.
And despite the fact that he had hardly given her more than a hug and a kiss in the first two weeks of his return, they were suddenly making love a lot. In their bed, in the shower, in his radio tower. He even gave her an intense quicky in the small library that Sir Pentious had once tried to hide a camera in . . . in the middle of the day. Anyone could have walked in, and it was a risk her usually put together husband wouldn’t normally take. It almost made her wonder if he wasn’t in some kind of out of season rut but then he had gone back to acting completely normal afterwards.
Mina reflected on all of this as she cooled her overheated hormonal body down under the shower’s water and started to become confused and upset.
Was he gaslighting her?
Was he using the fact that she was touch starved and relieved that he was alive and well – all of which was his fucking fault – against her?
She had really thought that if she started doing as he asked, playing along with whatever his game with the hotel was; that if she allowed herself to just be happy that he was back and with her, that Alastor would eventually start telling her more about this huge secret he was keeping from her.
But it had been weeks – months – now since he came back and although she was upholding her part; playing the supportive, happy wife, he hadn’t given her anything besides sex in return for it.
Mina had even lost her job over it all. She had nothing now. Nothing except him, and this stupid fucking hotel, with its stupid pointless mission of redemption, and he wouldn’t even tell her why they were here. The people here, people who thought they were her friends, didn’t even really know her, did they? Not like her friends from The Pit or Cannibal Town. They didn’t know what she had been through, would judge her if they really knew what she was capable of, wouldn’t be able to deal with her through the worst of her moods. She couldn’t even tell Charlie what she did for a living when she first came to the hotel because if she were occasionally murdering souls, then it would go against Charlie’s mission to save those poor, wretched things.
Mina angrily slammed the knob of the water off and marched out of the shower.
She felt isolated, angry, hurt, and frustratingly still horny.
Forget whatever was in the cards for the day.
She needed to find Alastor, get him to fuck her hard for a couple hours, and then scream at him until he finally gave her some God damned answers.
Once she got dressed and had searched every possible room in the hotel for him though, it became apparent there was one small hole in her plan for the day.
Alastor was nowhere to be found.
____
Charlie assured Mina that she had sent him off on an errand first thing that morning but that he would be back momentarily.
Mina felt ready to rip her own hair out.
She knew she was being pissy but was far beyond the ability to care. Charlie had to send him away on this morning of all mornings?! Her only real outlet for her pent-up energy when she was in heat was either sex or violence, and if she wasn’t going to get either of those for the next few hours, she needed drugs.
Before Niffty could rope her into helping cook breakfast, Mina disappeared back upstairs and banged on Angel’s door.
He opened it, rubbing his eyes, clearly having slept in.
“I need downers,” Mina said, rudely pushing herself under his two left arms and into his room.
“G’morning to you, kittens. How may I be of service?” he said sarcastically.
“Aren’t you listening? I need drugs.”
“Whoa, honey. What’s got your panties all in a twist?” he said, and placed one of his hands to his chest while dramatically lifting his chin, “I am a clean, pure, innocent soul, I would never desecrate my body, my temple, these holiest of holes with something as disgraceful as-“
“What is this?” Mina said, interrupted his monologue, and holding up a packet of white powder that she quickly found in the first drawer she opened.
“Crack,” he answered, deflating. “Look, pussy cat, downers ain’t really my thing.”
“Not even weed?” she asked, feeling like she might cry. Why the fuck hadn’t she prepared better for this?
“Oh baby, yeah, how do you think I sleep at night?” he said, reaching into another drawer and handing her a joint. “I just figured you were looking for something stronger. Might I suggest Xanax, Heroin, Fentanyl, Numbutal-“
“I’m more of a liquor and opium kind of girl when I need something that strong. No, this will do nicely, thank you Angel, you’re a lifesaver.”
She held the joint between her lips and held up her thumb to the end, waiting for the flame to appear.
Nothing.
What the hell?
She shook her thumb and tried again.
Nothing.
That bloody bastard.
Abadon had taken her fire away. Completely. They had probably done it when they healed her shoulder and left her just enough power to portal away so she wouldn’t be suspicious.
“OH FUCKIN’ HELLl!” she half screamed, half growled, and started to cry.
“Whoa! Whoa!” Angel held all four of his hands up, completely caught off guard by the tantrum she was throwing in his room and not understanding at all what was causing it. “Hey, I ain’t cut out for this womanly shit, could ya please calm the fuck down?”
“That’s what I’m tryin’ to do here, ya daft spider!” she cried, pressing her palms to her eyes to try and force the tears to stop, the unlit joint hanging sadly from between her fingers. “Please?” she said, in a frustrated whimper, “do you have a light, too?”
“Yeah, toots, whatever you need” he said, cautiously handing her a lighter. “Jeeze, don’t you have a man for these kind of things?”
“I don’t know where he is!” she bit back; teeth clamped tightly over the joint as she lit it. She took a long, deep drag in, holding it in for several seconds, before she tilted her head back and exhaled.
“I’m sorry,” she said, trying to calm herself down as she waited for the effects of the marijuana to hit her system. She wiped away the tears that had fallen in her outburst, blushing with embarrassment. “I woke up in heat this morning and he’s just fucking left off to somewhere. And I’m . . . well, I’m not the most mentally stable person on a good day, so I can be quite difficult when I’m like this. Especially if I don’t . . .”
“Get a good dick or some hard drugs inside you?” Angel teased.
“Or get to kill something,” she said, taking another hit.
She ended up smoking the entire joint herself and when she was still visibly tense, Angel shared a second one with her.
They went downstairs, earning themselves a glare from Vaggie when she caught a whiff of them, but Mina locked eyes with her and the shorter woman backed down before she started in with a lecture.
They still weren’t exactly friends yet, but they had a mutual respect for one another that was building towards that, and Vaggie had already got a glimpse of the kind of frantic mood Mina was in that morning, so she let the drug use slide without ratting them out to Charlie.
Mina wasn’t even visibly high. She was just far less jittery and slightly more pleasant to be around. Now she was sulking, because not only was she feeling neglected by her husband, but her oldest friend had betrayed her, and she had missed out on breakfast.
The morning only got worse when she was subjected to Charlie’s new idea for a bonding activity – show and tell.
She made the smart choice of sitting at the bar with Husk so that her view of the television set was limited during Angel’s turn. The sound effects were disturbing enough.
For a short moment, she actually found herself enjoying the activity when Husker started going off about everyone’s’ insecurities, until he called her out as well.
“Mina lashes out at everyone she cares about, so she can hurt them before they hurt her,” he said, before turning to Niffty. “And Niffty, you don’t even wanna know what her deal is.”
“And you like to blame everyone else for all your problems, rather than accept the consequences of your own actions,” she bit back, earning a pissed off glare from Husk.
Angel started laughing.
“Wow, the kittens have claws out this morning!” he said, and pulled Husker in as if to kiss him. “Meeeoooow.”
She snorted a laugh, knowing that kind of attention would only bother Husk more and watched as he reacted as she predicted.
The two were putting on quite a show for everyone that morning with their back-and-forth insults until Angel’s phone went off and he attempted to nonchalantly leave for work.
Mina reluctantly stood up from her place at the bar and went over with Vaggie to talk Charlie down as she lamented over the halt in the day’s activities.
“Maybe you could command a little more authority?” Vaggie offered.
“That is terrible advice,” Mina said.
Vaggie glared at her before turning back to Charlie.
“And so meeaaaaan,” the princess whined.
“It’s not mean, exactly. It’s aggressive kindness.”
“Um, no-“ Mina tried but Charlie was already jumping up from the ground.
“Okay! I could be so ‘aggressively kind’ to Angel’s boss that I convince him to let Angel spend more time at the hotel!”
“No! No, you will not, that will not work. At all,” Mina said walking over and grabbing Charlie by the shoulders, trying to talk sense into her.
“Oh, sure it will. Like I said, she’s the Princess of Hell. And I believe in her,” Vaggie said.
“You don’t know Valentino,” Mina snapped at her and then looked imploringly at Charlie, speaking softer. “There’s a difference between believing in someone and setting them up for failure. Do. Not. Go. There.” she said, emphasizing each word with a shake of Charlie’s shoulders. “Please, Charlie. Trust me on this, I know these Overlords, you won’t talk sense into them.”
“Maybe it’s never worked because no one has ever asked him nicely before!” Charlie said and Mina groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose between her fingers. She was going to need another hit of something to get her through this.
“Fine, I give up. Go ‘command’, or whatever you think you’re going to do, Princess,” she sighed and walked away. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
___
Mina had really tried to be a better person that day.
She took as many drugs as she had to, to get her body to behave, so she could be polite to the other residents, and they still insisted on fighting with each other.
She had tried to stop Charlie from going to Valentino’s, offered her sound advice, and had been ignored.
She had tried waiting patiently for Alastor to come back from his ‘quick errand’ and hours later, he was still nowhere to be seen. Why he refused to carry a cell phone was beyond her. She had one, and she was an older soul than he was, even if by only a few years. Even Abaddon and Lucifer had phones for crying out loud.
She had been doing what he asked, and letting him know where she was going and with whom anytime she left the hotel, and he – the one who had gone missing without a trace for several fucking years – didn’t think he should have to return the favor?
Fuck him.
Fuck everyone here.
Fuck this whole hotel.
She sat at Husker’s bar, nursing a whiskey, and smoking a cigarette.
Angel wasn’t back yet either, which was probably Charlie’s fault for making things worse, so his bedroom door was locked and all her other options for downers were locked away as well.
At least the liquor kept her from ripping everyone’s heads off and the nicotine kept her hands from shaking too badly.
“Mina?” Charlie’s voice asked shyly from behind her, “maybe you could find somewhere else to smoke that?”
“Why?” she responded coldly, “not like anyone here can die from lung cancer.”
“Well, still,” Charlie said, and Mina turned around and looked at the solemn Princess. She had her arms around herself, looking more down and insecure than ever. Valentino must have really put her in her place. Whatever, Mina thought, she deserves it. “It can’t be good for you,” Charlie finished.
Mina laughed, a dry, humorless laugh. “And you would know what unhealthy lungs feel like, right love? You know what it feels like to cough up a mouthful of blood and still not be able to take in enough air?”
“Leave her alone,” Husk said. “The kid’s just trying to be nice.”
“No, she’s right, Husk,” Charlie said, “I-I’m sorry. You’re an adult. And this . . . this is a bar, after all. It’s what it’s here for.”
Mina nodded and took another drag of her cigarette.
“Don’t mind her being a bitch,” Husker said, looking at Charlie. “She’s just in a bad mood because Alastor’s not back yet. She wants to make her failed marriage everyone else’s problem.”
Mina threw her glass at Husker’s head, watching it shatter with satisfaction.
“HEY WHAT THE FUCK!” he said, blood dripping down the side of his face but the cut she had made was already closing. Too bad, he still retained some of his powers from being an Overlord and could heal quicker than most.
“Shut up and poor me another,” she huffed.
Charlie sat there, mortified and wide eyed, as Husker did exactly as he was told.
“Maybe one of you should go cool off somewhere,” she tried to offer.
“Not a chance. I need this” she said, lifting up her new glass of whiskey, lightly shaking it in front of Charlie’s face, “and he needs to remember his place. Do his job and not insult the wife of his boss, ‘failed marriage’ or not.”
Husker stayed silent as he swept up the shattered remains of the glass off the floor.
“Mina, your marriage isn’t a failure,” Charlie said softly, “Alastor will be back any minute. And you two still love each other. Whatever is going on, you’ll get through this. You’ve seemed so happy lately.”
“Glad everyone else can see how happy I’ve been besides myself,” Mina sniped and downed her glass.
She was behaving abhorrently. She knew it enough to feel guilty but then the guilt just made her angrier. It was a vicious cycle of emotions that she couldn’t even fully blame on being in heat; being mean made her feel good. It was probably the core reason why she ended up in Hell.
Vaggie came over and Mina rolled her eyes, knowing things were just about to get worse.
“Look, I get being worried,” she said, making it obvious she had been eavesdropping. “you two are . . . ah . . . different, okay? Your guys’ relationship is your own business. But, I know what it’s like to stress about someone you care about,” Vaggie put a hand on Charlie’s shoulder and gave her a sickly sweet lovestruck look, “But Alastor can take care of himself. I’m sure he’s just been busy today and will come back any minute now, safe and sound.”
“You think I’m worried about him?” Mina asked. “Oh, no, I’m fucking furious with the man.”
“Look, I’m the one that asked him to leave this morning,” Charlie started in. “If you want to blame anyone, you can blame me.”
“What an amazing martyr you would make,” Mina said, “but tell me, did you ask him to go on a short errand when he was gone for seven years?”
“No, but-“
“Then stay out of it,” Mina snapped.
“He’s probably just doing something to help the hotel-“
Mina held up her hand and Charlie stopped talking.
“Look at you two,” she said, gesturing with her cigarette between Charlie and Vaggie. “Young love. And it’s the real thing. What you have, it’ll last. It’s pure and strong, the kind of love anyone can see when they look at you. And neither of you can even imagine hurting the other one, yeah? If you yell at her, it’s like fire in your throat. The thought of her being hurt, it’s like a knife stuck in your ribs. The fear and pain of just the thought of her leaving you; you can’t breathe or think. You would never ever do anything to betray her, right? And you’re so confident that she feels the same about you. The very idea of an affair is laughable and what’s a worse betrayal than that? But just give it time. One of you will do something the other one couldn’t even fathom. Not another woman, not abuse, but something that will tear you to shreds, nonetheless. And on that day, come talk to me. Until then?” Mina took a final drag of her cigarette and then stamped it out on the naked wood of the bar. “Learn to mind your own fucking business.”
She got up and left, leaving a stunned Charlie, Vaggie, and even Husk silent in her wake.
___
Alastor was having a fantastic day.
Actually . . . it was pretty awful.
Everything was taking much longer than expected. It was tedious, and he would have to carefully explain away his absence for the entire day . . . or not. Charlie had so much planned for the day he doubted anyone really noticed he was gone. Still, the day had been frustrating, and he felt that now familiar feeling of invisible strings yanking him around a stage, making him do things he didn’t care to do, and keeping him from where he wanted to be.
What was fantastic about it was the brevity of it all.
It was over in just a few hours and rather than remaining alone, forced to be separated from his home and his heart, he got to return to the hotel and his wife.
Things had been just lovely between them lately. It was better than Heaven. Mina had been soft and sweet with him these last several weeks. Although it was clear she was still terribly curious about where he had been, she seemed to be slowly letting it go and just enjoying the fact that they were together again. It made him giddy as a teenage boy to have her back, to regain some control over his life again, and he clung tightly to that shred of happiness they had rekindled in each other.
He almost stopped and got her a bottle of wine and flowers, just to smooth over any transgressions she might feel over him being gone all day, but then decided it would just delay his return more. Better to just get back as soon as possible. And if he really needed to, he would summon whatever items he needed to later.
Alastor walked confidently through the doors of the hotel, whistling a happy tune.
He stopped short when he noticed a rather pathetic version of Vaggie sitting alone in the lobby, shuffling through television stations.
“And where is everyone on this fine evening?” he asked, striding over to her.
“Angel took off, Husk is out looking for him, Charlie is upstairs trying to work out a way to do damage control for tomorrow, I honestly don’t know where Pentious and Niffty are, and your wife-“ she took her eyes off the T.V. screen and gave him a pitying look “-is upstairs plotting your murder.”
“Ah, she has not taken my absence well today, has she?” he asked, glancing up at the staircase.
“Yeah,” she said with a laugh, “you could say that again. Where have you been, exactly.”
“Oh, I’ve been a busy little bee,” Alastor said, tapping her on the head with his microphone, before walking towards the stairs. “I’m sure you’ll all see the fruits of my labor, soon enough.”
He melted into shadow and drifted along the walls and out of sight.
“So fucking creepy,” Vaggie muttered to herself.
___
Mina was just throwing on her leather jacket when she felt rather than saw Alastor appear behind her.
He had his arms around her, and his mouth to her neck, before she could spin around.
“My, my, don’t you look delectable,” he said, taking a loud breath in and biting her softly right beneath her jawline as he exhaled.
She hesitated, for just a second, her body craving his touch too much for her not to. But she was so blindly angry that even the throbbing between her legs couldn’t win over her fury.
“Don’t touch me,” she said and stepped away from him.
“Mina, please allow me to explain,” he said, assuming she was just upset that he had been gone all day without explanation, unaware of the depth of her hormonal fury at him.
“You know what? I don’t even care right now,” she said, turning to face him once she had put some distance between them. “And I wouldn’t believe a damn word that came out of your mouth, anyway, so don’t bother.”
“And where are you going?” he asked, with a politeness that was hardly believable.
“Out. I called some old friends and we’re going out,” she said, holding up her cellphone as if he had never seen one before. “Some people have these, you know.” She pocketed the device in the back of her jeans. “I need to kill something after the day I’ve had, no thanks to you.”
“My darling, I really don’t care for the idea of you going out and looking for trouble. Not after what happened last time.”
“Well, if I get in trouble, I’ll call someone. Let them know where I am. Don’t worry love, I’ll be back before seven years comes and goes.”
“Ah, so that’s what this is all about.”
“It’s what everything is about! You left me. Spin it however you want, Al. You left me. And you’re a bloody damn fool if you think being sweet and throwing a few fucks my way is going to make me just forget that if you won’t even try to tell me why.”
“I am trying,” he said darkly.
The lights flickered in the room for a moment, but Mina just scoffed and turned around.
“You’re the worst husband I’ve ever had.”
He moved right behind her as she put her hand on the doorknob of their room, grabbing her and spinning her to face him.
“I’m the worst?” he said, his eyes black with fury and hurt. “What I’ve done is the equivalent to beating and raping you?”
“No,” Mina said sadly, watching the shadows crawl up the walls of their room, beginning to darken everything around them. “No, what you did was worse. Because I didn’t love him. He could only hurt my body. But you, you broke my heart, so you’re far worse.”
His grip on her shoulders lessened but the room only grew darker.
“Don’t say that to me,” he said, his voice quiet but far less human than normal.
She shoved him off, and he stepped away from her and into the room, but his shadow came off the wall to her side and pulled her deeper into the room as well.
Alastor was keeping his distance but also keeping her from the door.
“Take it back,” he said.
“Tell me why you left me,” she countered. “Then maybe I will.”
“I’ve already told you a thousand times, I can’t.”
“Oh for fuck’s sake, you can’t? You really expect me to believe that, love? You? You always do exactly what you want to do, so if you wanted to tell me, you would. It’s not like you made a fucking deal over it.”
As soon as she said the words, she knew it.
The look on his face gave him away more than anything he could ever admit out loud.
“No,” she whispered, watching the shadows retreat from the walls. She shook her head, “No.”
“Mina, please-“
“Tell me you didn’t,” she said.
A heartbeat went by.
“I can’t.”
And a heartbeat later, hers shattered.
“You sold your soul?” Her voice was so small, her throat so tight she could barely speak. This was the worst thing she could imagine. She hadn’t even been able to imagine it, it had just been a throwaway insult. Alastor, her Alastor, would never do that.
He didn’t answer.
“Alastor,” she said, and went to him then, putting gentle hands on either side of his face. “Please. Just tell me yes or no.”
He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against hers.
“I can’t.”
She stepped away from him like he’d slapped her.
“When?”
Silence was his only response.
“How could you?” she hissed. “We’re married. That’s supposed to mean something, even to you.”
“It does,” he said, reaching for her. “It means everything.”
She took another step away.
“It means nothing now! We’re supposed to belong to each other! Husband and wife, that was our deal, you’re supposed to me mine as much as I am yours.”
“I am,” he said desperately. “Please, Mina. I am still yours.”
She was crying now, she felt the hot tears going down her cheeks, but they were silent. She was too stunned to sob yet.
Alastor stepped towards her again and this time she didn’t move away. She closed her eyes as his fingers, sharply clawed and capable of such violence, gently stroked her cheeks and brushed away her tears. He kissed her forehead, between her eyes, and then her lips.
“I am all yours,” he said.
“How can you be?” she said back, looking into his red eyes, seeing the devastated look on his own face, and felt her world fall away. “How can you be mine if you gave yourself to another?”
She stepped slowly away from him, further into the room. The door was behind him, but it wasn’t her only exit and she no longer cared if he knew.
“I hope it was worth it,” she said, and stepped backwards into the fiery portal she had opened.
She watched it close shut in front of her before he even got halfway to her.
@saccharine-nectarine, @inuhalfdemon
#hazbin hotel#hazbin alastor#alastor fanfiction#alastor hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel alastor#alastor x oc#alastor x reader#alastor the radio demon#hazbin hotel fic#alastor fic#alastor#radio demon#the fire in the sin
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where’s my bradford siblings episode?????
#*and this is icarly!#the rookie#the rookie s5#s5 wishlist#tim bradford#genny bradford#..... i know they've both been through enough as it is already but i need an episode where genny's life is in danger#and tim is freaking out like how he did when lucy was abducted#it's my personal headcanon that tim took care of genny like she was his own daughter rather than his sister#.... because a few months after she was born their mother got sick#so much so that she showed tim how to change a diaper because she even became too weak to do that#he'd make all her meals for her and pack her lunchbox#made sure she held his hand when they crossed the street#and if his so called 'friends' complained about genny whenever she had to tag along with him he'd just turn around and leave#he'd 100% rather play and take care of his sister than leave her alone and risk something happening to her#always made sure her night light was on before bed#let her crawl into bed with him when she had a niggtmare#hell he'd even wash her dirty sheets when she'd pee the bed#genny was his baby!!!!#TRY TO CONVINCE ME OTHERWISE#chenford
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BEAUTIFUL THING
mike schmidt x f!reader
word count; 2,573
warnings; smut, no plot, just porn :D
summary; there was nothing in the world she wanted more than mike schmidt. but what were the chances he'd ever make a move on her?
She wanted Mike Schmidt.
Don’t get her wrong, she absolutely adored Abby, she was sweet, funny, and overall not a hard kid to take care of. But she knew all too well what her intentions were when she agreed to take up the babysitting job— how could she say no when he looked at her like that with those big, deep brown eyes?
It was another late night spent at the Schmidt house— Mike had just gotten himself a new job with unholy hours, some late night security gig he had no choice but to take. Her mouth opened in a yawn and through her bleary vision, she blinked down to the watch on her wrist.
4:30 AM. Mike wouldn’t be back for another hour and a half or so.
She sighed and threw her head back against the cushions, staring absentmindedly at the television as some old cartoon played, audio soft and muffled. She wasn’t sure why she even bothered trying to stay up for Mike— she’d been babysitting for him for months, (without pay, might she add) and still, neither he nor she had made any moves. She wasn’t even sure if he ever even intended to make a move on her.
But she was just so certain that he felt at least some sort of attraction towards her. She could see it in the way he looked at her, how his eyes would absentmindedly trail down her body against his better judgment, how he’d pull the inside of his bottom lip between his teeth while he did. She could see it in the way his body would react when she came too close, like when she gave him a handshake or playfully shoved his shoulder.
It was the same way she reacted when he was close.
Surely it couldn’t all be for nothing?
Her eyelids were falling heavy against her eyes and she slowly slumped further into the cushions of the couch, hands tightening around the blanket around her body. Sleep was so close that she could reach out and feel it, and she would’ve slipped into the arms of slumber if it hadn’t been for the opening and closing of the front door.
She grumbled and furrowed her brows down at her watch.
4:35 AM. Mike wasn’t supposed to be home yet.
At the notion, she jolted and snapped her head towards the entrance, her heart thrumming against her chest as she prepared herself for the sight of a total stranger, ready to make a run straight for Abby’s room. She blinked and narrowed her eyes at the dark silhouette of the figure as it hung its coat on the rack bolted on the wall.
“Sorry. S’ just me.”
She knew that voice. It was a voice she always dreamed about, a voice belonging to someone she’d seen practically everyday.
“Mike?” Her voice came out rough, having not spoken for hours, not since Abby had gone to bed. “What are you doing home so early?” She asked as she pushed herself further up the sofa while Mike made his way towards the recliner, wiping a hand down his face before plopping down into the seat. She could only make out his face through the light from the television but even then, she could sense something was off.
Mike tapped his fingers against the armrest of the recliner, “I… I just… needed to leave… I guess,” he replied and she frowned, scooting to the far side of the couch closest to him. “Is… is everything alright?” She questioned, unsure whether or not he needed consoling. Mike leaned further back into his seat and let his eyelids flutter closed, inhaling deep through his nostrils.
“Just… is Abby asleep?” He finally asked after a moment and she nodded, humming. “She went down earlier than usual. Actually managed to get her to eat something,” she replied, her lips curving into a smile but quickly faltering again when she realized Mike wasn’t going to reciprocate. He looked almost… distraught.
Worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, she pondered her options. She’d known Mike for some time but even then, she still knew little to nothing about him. He slept a lot, that was for sure. And he loved his little sister and was trying so hard to be exactly the type of person she needed. But she knew nothing about him, Mike Schmidt himself. She didn’t know what he did in his free time, what he liked to eat, if he had hobbies, nothing.
Hell, she’d spent so much time fantasizing about him and filling in all the holes herself, she hardly even acknowledged that he could be somebody entirely else. She didn’t know the first thing about him.
But she could learn to try.
She leaned forward, a steady hand warily finding his on the armrest of the recliner and she flinched when Mike snapped his eyelids open, looking between her and their touching hands. Their gazes surged into one another and she made no moves, as if seeking any sign that she should stop.
Mike’s heart thrummed so hard inside his chest, it was a miracle that she couldn’t hear it. She looked at him as if she were asking permission— permission to what, he hadn’t even the slightest clue. But in spite of the voices inside of his head telling him he shouldn’t, that he shouldn’t let her, that he was wrong for her, he did. How could he say no when she looked at him like that, as if he were the most beautiful thing she’d ever laid eyes upon?
His silence gave her the confidence to let her fingers creep further down to the back of his hand, flipping it around until they rested against the heel of his palm. Slowly, she soothed the tips of her fingers up his palm until they fell between the cracks of his, letting her digits curl around his knuckles. Mike shuddered at the touch and let his own fingers press down against hers and he watched as she raised their intertwined hands to her mouth, their gazes molded together as she pressed her lips against his skin. His lips trembled as they fell open and he narrowed his eyes, clinging onto the last bit of restraint he had left.
“You can relax with me, Mike,” she whispered against his skin, pressing another soft kiss to the knuckle of his ring finger. “You don’t have to worry while I’m around.”
Mike pressed his lips back together and fought back the urge to groan at her words, his eyes wandering from their hands, down her arm, to her chest where it pressed against the edge of the sofa. His breath shuddered when he exhaled and the rubber band stretched inside of him finally released and with it, the last of his restraint.
Fuck it, he thought. It’s been long enough.
Mike tugged her closer by the hand and her lids widened, a squeal slipping from her lips, in which he was swift to eat right up, pressing his mouth against hers. With his hand not intertwined with hers, he gripped her hip, working his way up to her waist to squeeze. The sound she made was muffled inside their admittedly messy kiss and he pulled her even closer, her knees having nowhere to go but on the outside of his thighs.
Mike groaned and pulled away to catch his breath as her hips ground down against his, already feeling frustrated with the growing erection in his jeans. He blinked up at the woman on top of him, her arms thrown over his shoulders, her chest heaving as she chased air back into her lungs. She stared down at him with hazy irises, still bleary from lack of sleep.
“Sorry,” Mike finally managed to breathe out, his palms resting on either of her thighs. “Probably a little much, wasn’t it?”
He watched as the corners of her lips curved into a grin and she chuckled breathlessly, shaking her head. “Not enough,” she tittered as she surged her lips back into his, one of her hands on his shoulders slithering their way into his mess of dark tendrils, fingers curling and tugging at his roots. He hissed inside her mouth and dug his fingernails into her skin, a whimper falling from her lips, allowing him to take control of the situation.
He pressed himself forward and reached for the end of her t-shirt and she briefly broke away to allow the fabric up and over her head, her own fingers already working at the buckle of his belt. Mike leaned forward to pepper kisses all across the tops of her breasts and she threw her head back as he took over in undoing his belt, ripping it from his loops and throwing open the button and zipper of his jeans.
She clambered off of him as he raised his hips to tug his pants and boxers down just enough to allow his erection to spring free of its restraints, feeling her stomach do a somersault at the sight as she stripped herself of her own shorts and panties. Mike fought the urge to wrap his hands around his cock as she reached behind her back to undo the clasps of her bra and time seemed to slow as the straps fell from her shoulders, the lave toppling to the floor altogether.
He swore he could feel his mouth water and never before this moment had he wanted something, or someone, more. He blinked up at her, following her gaze down to his lap and at his erection that stood tall, waiting for her, dripping with pre-cum.
Mike cocked an eyebrow, “you just gonna stand there or you gonna take it?” He asked, voice low and husky and fuck, she thought she’d drop dead right then and there. Still, this was a dangerous game they were playing. “What about Abby?” She whispered, glancing towards the hallway where Abby’s room was. “What if she wakes up?”
Mike pressed his lips together and bucked his hips, raising a leg to softly give her calf a kick. “You can be quiet, right?” He murmured in question and she felt herself clench from his voice alone. Here Mike Schmidt was, cock out and erect, all because of her. This was something she had only dreamed of— never did she think that this would become reality.
Mike cocked his eyebrow again and she shook herself from her thoughts, taking his hand as he guided her back onto his lap. Her body shuddered and her bones rattled as she began to sink herself down, jolting when the tip brushed against her cunt, teeth sinking down into the plush of her bottom lip to contain her sounds.
“It’s okay,” Mike whispered. “I got you.”
Her eyes about rolled in the back of her head at that as his hands kneaded at the flesh of either of her hips, guiding her further down his length, making sure to go agonizingly slow to ensure she felt every single fucking inch of cock inside of her. Tears brimmed the outskirts of her eyelids as she finally sat still on his lap, filled to the brim with cock. Mike let her head fall down against the curve of his shoulder, burying her nose into the crook of his neck as she allowed time to adjust to his size, simultaneously trying to keep her sounds to a minimum.
“You’re so tight,” Mike’s breath shuddered in her ear and his voice made goosebumps litter her skin, his fingertips like the icy breath of a ghost against her back. “You think you can handle moving now?” He asked in a whisper against the shell of her ear and she nodded, letting him grab her thighs and push her further up his cock until just the head remained. She cried against his neck when he sank her all the way back down his length, the lewd noise of their wet skin slapping together making her clench around him. “Fff… uuck,” he dragged his curse out as he snapped his hips up against her.
“Shit!” She gasped as he thrusted again and again and again. And she let him. She let him use her in whatever way he pleased.
“Gonna be good for me?” He muttered next to her ear. “Gonna let me take care of you, hm?” She nodded, bobbing her head up and down against his shoulder as he snapped his hips up to hers again and again, daring the coil inside her belly to snap. “Think you can handle it?” He asked again and she nodded once more, crying and biting down on his collar. “Yes!” She cried, fortunately muffled against his skin.
So Mike thrusted again, harder and harder, chasing that high, that release he so desperately needed. He could tell she was close— it’d probably been so long since she’d been stuffed by cock like this. She’d probably been waiting for this moment just as long as he has.
With the pad of his thumb, he pressed down against her aching bud and Mike could feel a fresh new set of tears soak his skin as she cried, bucking her hips into his touch. His thrusts were as sloppy as they were powerful and she wasn’t sure how much more she could take.
“Mmm… Mike… I’m… I’m gonna…” she hardly managed to stutter out, slowly feeling the coil inside her stomach as it began to unravel.
“Yeah?” Mike said, his other hand wrapped around her neck and pushing her forehead down against his, gazing up at her closed eyelids. He rolled his head against hers, “look at me,” he breathed out and watched as she slowly fluttered her lids back open, just as more fat tears beaded down her cheeks. The sight was enough to get him to teeter on the edge himself.
“Gonna come?” He asked and she nodded, sweat-slicked forehead lolling against his. He nodded too, already feeling her release around him as she spawned around his cock, relying solely on him and his body to keep herself up. She buried her face in the crook of his neck again as she whined and cried, Mike’s thrusts speeding up as he gave himself that final push he needed to send himself reeling, spiraling and shaking with the force of his release.
“Fuck,” he growled into the skin just below her ear, squeezing his eyelids shut tighter as he willed himself to keep his sounds on the low, for the sake of his little sister sleeping just in the other room.
Silence fell over Mike and the babysitter for a good, long moment as they both recovered from their highs, chasing air back into their lungs as the realization of what they had just done began to sink in. Mike should be mortified— she was his sister’s babysitter, he doesn’t have time for this, she doesn’t deserve him, he shouldn't have done this.
But the woman in his lap settled herself closer into him, nuzzling her nose against the crook of his neck, her lips like a crescent moon against his skin as she placed a soft kiss to his flesh there.
“I hope you’re okay, Mike,” she whispered and he threw his head back, an arm thrown around her body as he stared up at the ceiling. How could he push her away now?
a/n; so yeah!!! i watched fnaf on friday and it kinda sorta just brought back my whole josh hutcherson phase so enjoy!! this was just a quick little something i wrote up and there's like no plot at all and not proofread LMAO
#mike schmidt#mike schmidt x reader#mike schmidt x you#mike schmidt imagine#mike schmidt smut#mike schmidt fnaf#five nights at freddy's#fnaf movie#fnaf#josh hutcherson#michael afton#michael afton x reader
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best kept secret
pairing: dbf!Joel Miller x f!reader
words: 6.7k
summary: In an attempt to keep your relationship secret, Joel agrees to a blind date set up by his best friend / your father. You don't take it well.
warnings: 18+ minors dni, pre-outbreak, age gap (reader is in her early 20s, Joel is 36), secret relationship, angst, explicit smut, oral (f!receiving), unprotected piv, semi-public sex, car sex, creampie, some fluff; lmk if I missed anything!
a/n: so sorry it took me almost a month to post something new ffs - life got busy and my inspiration simultaneously disappeared. but we're back, baby! anyway, dbf!joel owns my ass, so here's my rendition of him. as always, ty to my baby @javisashtray for reading this over for me and helping me through the creative process <3
Joel’s bedroom window offers a perfect view of the sunrise; of shy, pink light creeping over treetops and the roof of your dad’s house across the street.
It’s gorgeous — breathtaking, even — maybe because you can count on one hand the number of times you’ve actually seen the crest of morning. You’re far more privy to late nights and sleeping in as long as you can push it, never been one to be up with the lark, so to speak.
You don’t mind the early wakeup call, though, not when it’s this: Joel’s head tucked between your thighs, his tongue rolling lazily over your clit, your eyes still adjusting to the light as he spreads you open for him.
He’s humming against you, his coarse beard tickling soft skin, thumbs dug into muscle to hold you in place as your back bows reflexively off the mattress. He looks so sweet like this, so eager to please, staring up at you with blown pupils.
“C’mon baby,” he purrs. “Just gimme one before you go.”
They’re the first words he’s said all morning, the first thought that’s necessitated utterance. His voice is hoarse and deep and drips honey-sweet at your core.
Even so, despite how badly you want to — because you always want Joel’s mouth on you — you’re not sure you can.
Because you need to get home before Denise next door leaves for her early shift. Before Susan a few houses down takes her dog out for a walk.
Before the neighborhood wakes and somebody sees you leaving Joel Miller’s house. Or worse, before your dad catches you slipping into the house in yesterday’s clothes, your car in the driveway still cold.
But with another experimental flick of Joel’s tongue, you forget all that, a content little sigh slipping past your parted lips, betraying you.
Just one, you tell yourself, and then you’ll head out.
“Fuck, okay — yeah,” you breathe, twisting your fingers into the roots of his curls.
With your permission, he buries his nose in your mound. Licks at you again — with more purpose, this time. One long, drawn out lap followed by another.
He’s so gentle with you, so careful, caressing your folds with his tongue like they’re made of paper. It’s a dizzying juxtaposition to the way he laid you down last night and fucked you, teeth scraping your neck and cock bruising your cervix.
You’re still sore, your walls tender where he stretched them, but your pussy is drooling nonetheless, surely making a mess of the bedsheets underneath you.
Because you’re insatiable when it comes to Joel.
For the past few weeks, since the first time you’d found yourself in his bed, you’ve craved him. Regardless of how sated he’s left you each and every time, you’ve needed more.
It’s dangerous and stupid and undeniably wrong, having a fling with your dad’s best-friend. But you’re finding it difficult to consider the morality of it all when just his tongue makes you come harder than any other man’s cock ever has.
That tongue, now dipping into your apex, drawing more slick out of you as his thumb finds your swollen clit — It’s overwhelming how good it feels, how good he is at this.
He’s bringing you to the edge languidly, savoring the taste of you, the feel of your silky flesh. It’s like he doesn’t want this to be over, needs to stretch the moment as far as it’ll go, milk every last second before you slip from his grasp.
But it’s going to end soon; it’s inevitable with the way he’s laving your pussy, the crushed velvet of his tongue gliding through your folds so wet and warm. Your orgasm is building, and you’re powerless to stave it off any longer.
“Joel,” you warn, his name a high-pitched whine.
“Shh, I know babygirl; it’s okay.”
Two of his fingers hook at your entrance and push in, pacifying you as his thumb continues working your clit. “I got you. Let go for me, sweetheart.”
The soothe of his voice floods your senses like nitrous; renders your body loose and your head foggy. You come apart with a string of shattered breaths, eyes rolled back and fingers twisted into the duvet.
Joel talks you through it: that’s it, pretty girl; so good for me; always so good for me, and though he sounds so far away, his words are the only thing keeping you tethered to reality.
The world comes back into view slowly. Air settles in your lungs. And you can’t help but laugh at how fucked-out you feel when you peer down at Joel, his gaze already locked on you, expectantly.
“Okay?” he asks, rubbing at your inner thigh.
“Yeah,” you exhale, corners of your lips pulling taut. “More than okay.”
He smiles back at you. Props himself up with hands planted either side of you on the mattress and hovers over your feeble form.
“Good,” he whispers, dipping his head down to kiss your forehead, your nose, your mouth. He licks into you, letting you taste yourself on him — a little sweet, a little bitter — and his lips are so soft that you nearly melt. “Did so good, angel.”
You want nothing more than to spend all day in this bed with him. Return the favor a few times over. Learn what he looks like in the afternoon sun against the backdrop of navy blue sheets. What he tastes like after his coffee rather than before.
“I don’t want to leave,” you admit against his mouth and he frowns, taking one of your hands in his. He presses a kiss to each of your knuckles, one by one, his eyes never straying from yours.
“I don’t want you to either, darlin’. But you can come back tonight, yeah?”
Tonight. Hours away. A whole day between now and then. But it’ll have to do.
“Tonight,” you repeat. Solidify it.
You slink home just as the street lights dim.
The house is quiet when you enter, apart from the incessant ticking of the grandmother clock in the living room. It sets off a throbbing in your head, a dull pang right at the front of your skull that you massage with two fingers as you ascend the stairs.
You move cautiously up each step, wincing at every creak of old wood. It must take minutes to reach the second-floor landing, and then you’re tiptoeing past your father’s room, listening for signs of sleep behind the seal of his door. Sure enough, you catch it, a single, drawn-out snore, loud enough that you let your feet fall, shuffling the rest of the way to the bathroom across the hall.
You immediately crank the shower on, climbing in as soon as you see steam. Lathering your skin with citrus-scented body wash, the smell of sex washes off your body and down the drain.
The warm water soothes your sore muscles; bittersweet relief. You stand there until the stream grows icy, stepping out and toweling yourself off just as you hear the familiar blare of your dad’s alarm on the other side of the wall.
By the time you’ve dressed and made your way downstairs, he’s already in the kitchen, nursing a cup of coffee with his back to you.
Sink empty, counters borderline sparkling, a coaster tucked under his warm mug — your father is a neat man. He does not take kindly to mess.
God forbid, anybody disrupt the sacred balance of his home; move something and forget to put it back, break something of his that should be kept intact.
“Hey.”
“Hey, kiddo,” he yawns. Turns to face you. “You were up early. Heard the shower going.”
“Couldn’t sleep,” you lie.
“Something on your mind?”
Heat blooms across your chest and up your neck. There’s no way he knows — you’ve been far too careful. Still, you’re on edge, and the question lodges itself between your ribs uncomfortably as you frantically search for an answer.
“Uh, n-no,” you stutter. “Just work stuff, I guess.”
He seems to buy it, reaching for the percolator and re-filling his mug with a sigh, “Just gotta give it time. You only just started. Plus, it’s your first job out of school. They don’t expect you to know it all right away.”
It’s good advice, if not misguided. You nod as if you’re absorbing it, taking it straight to heart. As if your mind isn’t preoccupied.
You grab a mug from the cabinet. Fill it with coffee and creamer. Perch yourself at the breakfast table and take a slow, steadying sip.
The caffeine has just about seeped into your bloodstream when-
-there’s a knock at the door.
Your dad shoots you a puzzled look, one which you immediately return. Who could that be, so early on a Wednesday morning?
And when he pushes open the door to reveal none other than Joel, you just about fall out of your chair. Your nails absentmindedly dig into the wood of the table in an attempt to brace yourself.
“Oh, buddy — hey! Come on in,” your dad says, patting him on the back as he steps over the threshold. “Wasn’t expecting you.”
You grasp the handle of your mug like a lifeline. For a fleeting moment, you worry the ceramic will shatter in your hands.
Joel is dressed — blue cotton t-shirt covering his broad back and the deep, red scratches you left there when you dug your nails into skin, your legs hiked over his hips and your face tucked into his chest.
The pair of boxers peeking over the waistband of his jeans are different from the ones you pulled off of him last night, the ones he shimmied back into before you slept cradled in his arms.
He’s a different Joel here, now — your father’s friend, your neighbor — not the man who breaks you down with his tongue or the one who calls you his good girl while you take his entire, throbbing length.
No, this Joel, standing in your kitchen in the presence of your father, has never betrayed him. Hasn’t tasted his friend’s daughter or felt the tight embrace of her wet, warm cunt around his cock. This Joel is reliable, honest, not one to do harm.
You do not desire this Joel, cannot. You must look at him with apathetic eyes. Must keep the boat of your longing at bay.
Easier said than done. It’s as if your desire for him is a feral beast, fed by his touch and left starving in its wake. You feel like you’ve just run a marathon, sweat beading at your collar as you not-so-subtly follow the subconscious flex of his hands, the bunching of fabric over his biceps.
His voice bounces off the backsplash, and your fingers tighten around the handle of your mug.
“Yeah, I uh — I went to make myself coffee and realized I was out. Was hopin’ you might have some to spare?”
He can’t be serious. He came over for coffee? He couldn’t get some on the road?
“I’m afraid she took the last of it,” your dad’s eyes point to you, and you ignore the burn of Joel’s gaze when his follow.
“Ahh,” he says. “‘ts okay. I’ll grab some on my way in.”
His fingers taptaptap on the edge of the countertop, bottom lip tucked between his teeth like there’s something else. Another reason he came here.
And then you spot it — your wallet, dark red leather, poking out the top of Joel’s back pocket.
You must’ve left it in his room before you hurried home. Somewhere amongst the mess of trinkets and trash on his dresser. You half-remember dropping it there last night as he’d kneeled in front of you and peppered kisses up the length of your leg.
Thankfully, your dad is oblivious as ever, giving Joel the perfect opportunity to inconspicuously slip you your wallet when he turns around and crosses the kitchen, placing his empty mug in the sink.
Joel sidesteps once, twice, extending his arm and snapping it back as soon as you have the wallet in your grasp.
Your father clears his throat. Spins to find Joel exactly where he was. “I’ve been thinking,” he starts, wrestling a slice of bread out of the bag and dropping it into the toaster, “I gotta set you up with this co-worker of mine, Deb.”
Joel freezes. You watch as the color drains from his face and his large hand anxiously cards through dark curls. You’re pretty sure you freeze too, breath caught somewhere in your throat until your dad turns to you and you remember to exhale.
“You know Deb, right, honey?” he asks. You mentally flick through the rolodex of your dad’s coworkers.
There’s Leanne, tall redhead, hosted a potluck a few months back at which you tasted the worst mac & cheese you’ve ever had. And Barbara from accounting, who he got into a heated argument with over who makes the best BBQ in the city. You only remember her name because he hadn’t shut up about how wrong her opinion was for a full week.
This woman actually thinks the Smoke Shop has got better ribs than Lou’s. I said to her, Barbara, your taste buds must be absolutely torched.
But Deb? You don’t recall a Deb. Still, you’re pretty sure you hate her, just in hearing her name in this context.
You shake your head, no.
“Well, I guess you haven’t seen her in a while. She was there that day I brought you into the office.”
“When I was ten?” you retort.
“Yeah, I guess it was that long ago, huh?”
You shrug. He returns his attention to Joel. “Anyway, Deb – she’s around your age, just got divorced about a year back, and she’s a real nice woman. I think you two would really hit it off.”
“Is that so?” Joel replies. You swear his voice wavers. If your dad notices, he doesn’t say anything.
“You’ll like her Joel, I promise. I mean, when’s the last time you went out with a nice lady? Not since – what was her name — Jean? And if things were going well with her, I’d hope you’d tell your old friend.” The toaster pops, and he retrieves his slice of toast. Grabs a butter knife from the utensil drawer.
“No, I ain’t seeing Jean,” Joel sighs. Flashes you an apologetic glance as your dad slathers his toast in artificial purple jam, blissfully unaware.
“Well, you gotta get back out there!”
Joel’s gaze rolls to the ceiling. “I don’t know – I’m just not real interested in datin’ right now.”
You exhale, then — a quiet declaration of relief that seems to go unnoticed — unperturbed even when your dad continues his pitch.
I’ve known this woman for years Joel, I’m telling you, the two of you’d be the perfect match; she’s a looker too, real pretty.
Ew. Tuning him out, you check the clock, find that you only have a few minutes before you need to get going. You stand from the table and make your way toward the sink with your now-empty coffee mug in hand.
Would I ever lead you astray? your dad is asking just as you brush past Joel. His hand, idle by his side, catches the fabric of your blouse and you have to fight to ignore the pinprick of electricity it ignites under your skin.
“No, I know,” Joel grumbles. “I trust your judgment ‘n all, ‘ts just-”
“Will you just give her a chance?”
“Jesus; fine.”
The mug slips from your grip, falls into the sink with a clang.
Your dad glares at you, expression softening only when you gesture to the still-intact ceramic lying on its side in the basin.
He’s quickly distracted, then, jotting a series of numbers down onto a scrap of notebook paper, the blue ink pressed in so hard that it’s beginning to bleed through.
“Atta boy,” he drawls, sliding it across the counter. Joel pinches it between two fingers, folds the paper without looking at it and stuffs it into his front pocket.
“Promise you’ll give her a call tonight? I may or may not have already talked you up, and I need to know you’re not gonna make me look bad here.”
Joel has to see you staring at him out of the corner of his eye. He must. If looks could kill, he’d be six feet under already. But he’s refusing to meet your gaze, eyes glued to the cabinet directly in front of him as he nods. “Yeah, I’ll call her tonight,” he says, a small, unconvincing smile pulling at the corner of his lips.
He’s actually agreeing to this?
You need to get out of here before you say something rash.
The anger bubbles in you slowly, then all at once, threatening to boil over as you slip on your shoes and sling your bag over your shoulder.
Marching toward the door, you offer a half-hearted bye, not bothering to look back before you leave.
The office is already milling with people by the time you stroll in, ten minutes late.
The conversation between Joel and your dad is still running laps in your head as you sneak past your boss’s door.
It sticks there through the morning and well into the afternoon, your dad’s words an incessant earworm: I think you two would really hit it off.
The thing is — you can’t blame Joel for saying yes to the setup. Not really. Your situation is complicated, messy, bound to end badly.
Maybe he’d be happier with Deb.
They could take walks together, stroll through the grocery store or down the street hand-in-hand. Throw dinner parties and shamelessly gush about their relationship to their friends. All without fear of being caught doing something wrong.
Because that’s what this is, you and Joel — it’s wrong. Not like you weren’t already well aware of that. Leave it to some woman you’ve never met to rub it in.
The day passes infuriatingly slow.
The pile of emails in your inbox only grows larger by the time you’re due to clock out, stack of reports on your desk barely touched. You wince when your boss stops by your cubicle on her way out, eager for an update.
“Sorry, Linda; a couple of these were more time-consuming than I’d hoped,” you lie. But you can tell she doesn’t buy it, not one bit, her expression souring as you shuffle through papers.
“I need these done by the end of the week, no matter what.”
“Of course,” you mutter, face heating with embarrassment. “I’ll get them done and on your desk by Friday.”
“Thanks.” Her heels are already clacking on tile when you open your mouth to apologize again, your sorry lost to the ether.
You gather your things and scramble to your feet as soon as she’s out of view, not sticking around to watch your computer power down. By the time you get to your car, Joel’s number is already dialed on your phone.
He picks up after two rings.
“Darlin’ — are you okay?”
It’s admittedly uncharacteristic for you to call him so early. You usually wait until after dark, when you’ve both retreated to your respective bedrooms, away from listening ears.
But this can’t wait. It’s been eating at you all day, digging into your work. If you don’t talk to him about it, you’re going to end up unemployed. You don’t bother to ask if he’s still on the job site, around other people. “You’re going on this date.” It’s not a question. More of an accusation.
“Baby,” he sighs. You try your best to ignore his molasses drawl and the way it seeps into your chest.
“Why didn’t you say no?”
“How could I?” he groans. “There’s your dad, askin’ me if I’m seein’ someone, sayin’ he’s already told this lady about me – what am I supposed to say?”
“I don’t know.” Your voice comes out a whine. “Make something up. Tell him you’ve taken a vow of celibacy.”
He laughs, low and breathy on the other end. “Yeah, baby. Think he’d believe that one, f’sure.”
“Fuck,” you huff. “I just— I don’t-“
You want to tell him not to go. To cancel. Fake his own death. Do whatever it takes to get out of this. But you have no right, not really. The two of you aren’t dating. You don’t have any control over what he does or who he sees. And you don’t want that, no. You just want him to choose you.
“I don’t wanna go, darlin’. I really don’t. But if I do this, I think it’ll get him off my back for a while. He won’t have a reason to suspect that I’m foolin’ around with his daughter.”
Fooling around. His phrasing is a metaphorical punch in the gut.
It’s not exactly a lie. You haven’t put a label on this thing, whatever it is. It’s been purely physical: lips slotted to lips, tongues pressed together, swapped sweat and saliva. But hearing it reduced to two words, words with such a casual connotation — as if you haven’t been driven by overwhelming desire — makes your stomach churn.
Joel doesn’t seem to clock it when you go quiet, a cocktail of rage and sorrow sloshing around your insides. “It’s for the best,” he adds, a shot of hard, burning liquor.
“Yeah,” you say defeatedly. Choke back the pathetic tears that creep up your throat. “For the best.”
He ends the call with the excuse of bad cell reception. Promises to talk to you later. You’re not sure that you believe him.
The phrase fooling around curls up in your head, a wet dog, its fur dripping into the crevices of your rattled brain the entire drive home.
You dodge Joel’s calls for the remainder of the week.
There’s no use in talking to him when you have nothing to say, when you know any words you attempt will be overtaken by tears.
Even so, it doesn’t stop him from trying. His number lights up the screen of your phone at least twice a day.
He leaves voicemails that you do not listen to. You can’t. The last thing you need is his syruppy drawl in your ear. You’ll break; you know you will.
So instead, you delete them. Rid yourself of temptation.
But you still ache for him — a devastating truth. You lumber through the days, bones heavy with hurt. Find yourself kept up at night by thoughts of Joel and the infuriatingly soothing timbre of his voice, the intoxicating callous of his fingertips against your soft skin.
It’s a lonely thing, yearning for Joel Miller.
On Friday, your father beams at the dinner table. He’s grinning like a child as he stuffs a forkful of rice into his mouth.
“Joel and Deb’s date is tomorrow,” he says. “Think they’ll really hit it off, don’t you?”
You’re dumbfounded for a long moment — can’t believe that this is your life now: being asked about your thoughts on Joel and the ever-elusive Deb as a couple. When it takes too long for you to answer, your father’s fork stills pointedly on his plate, and you sputter.
“Oh! I mean, I don’t know. Like I said, I don’t remember Deb.” You can’t help your condescending tone. Your dad doesn’t seem to catch it anyway.
“Well,” he says, “I think they’ll be a match. Hoping so, anyway. The man has been such a hermit lately — maybe if he has a lady, he’ll get out more!”
“You sound real excited,” you grumble. Stab four peas on the prongs of your fork.
“It is exciting. I’ve never set anyone up before. And the best part is, the place they’re going to — the Tavern — it’s got rooms you can rent out for wedding receptions. Just imagine if down the line, they got mar-“
“Dad,” you stop him. You think you’ll be physically sick if you let him finish that sentence. “Sorry, I just — I’m really tired, all of a sudden. I think I’m going to head to bed early.”
It’s not a complete lie. You’re emotionally exhausted as a result of the past couple days. Sleep sounds like a much-needed, blissful escape right now.
Your dad doesn’t question you. He just nods. Swipes your plate from in front of you and brings it to the sink along with his.
Of course, you find it impossible to actually drift off that night. Tossing and turning, you battle the glaring urge to get up, slink into the home-office and look up directions to the Tavern.
Not that you’re planning to go there anytime soon — you’re just curious. That’s all.
Around midnight, you give up, pad down the hallway and into the room parallel yours. The computer dials up slowly, and you chew your bottom lip as you wait.
You snatch a piece of paper from the printer and a pen from the #1 Dad mug that sits next to the monitor. Click on the internet icon and type the words into the search bar.
This is definitely a bad idea. Maybe the worst you’ve had in a while.
You jot the address down anyway.
Downtown Austin is buzzing with life.
Patrons spilling out of bars, tourists striding down the street in their brand new Stetsons – it almost distracts you from the task at hand.
At just past seven, you’d told your dad you were going out, meeting a friend for drinks. He’d been a bit taken aback, seeing as you’re not very social these days, but he’d seemed happy. Relieved.
That’s not what you’re doing, of course.
No – in reality, you’re turning into the parking lot attached to the Tavern. It’s packed to the brim with cars, but you still manage to find Joel’s truck, its license plate number burned into the back of your mind after countless mornings of absently reading it as you snuck past.
It’s idle and empty when you inch by, and even though you knew he’d be here, on this date, your heart still sinks. Because maybe a tiny part of you had hoped he’d stand Deb up.
You should leave. It was stupid to come here in the first place. What are you going to do — storm inside and demand that he leave with you?
You consider it for half a second, groaning when you realize how pitiful you are. Defeated, you swing your car into a spot at the back, facing the building, and shift it into park. You hug the steering wheel dejectedly.
From here, you have a straight-shot view of the restaurant’s entrance, a set of double doors at the side of the building. Groups spill out every so often, every pair that emerges causing your back to arch reflexively.
Joel and Deb are probably discussing their interests right now, bonding over a shared connection with your dad. You can vividly picture the smile likely plastered across his face — the same one you’ve elicited with sweet filth whispered in his ear.
And you’re here, sitting in your running car, watching the door. Your pulse thumps obnoxiously loud in your ears.
Minutes pass like molasses, slow and thick. You watch the clock on the car radio obsessively, betting with yourself on what time they’ll leave. After thirty minutes of nothing, you’re convinced that they’re going to close the place out.
But then the door opens again, and you straighten up, immediately met with the sight of Joel and Deb.
She’s talking animatedly, eyes widening every few words, blonde hair wafting around her narrow face. It’s undeniable that she’s stunning, even from far away; possesses the kind of beauty you see on magazine covers in line at the grocery store. The jealousy that pools in your gut burns like acetone in an open wound.
She takes his arm as they walk toward the parking lot, and he lets her, despite the rest of his body appearing strangely rigid.
You wonder if he’ll take her home. Lead her to his truck, help her up the step to the passenger seat and sneak a look at her ass under her dress before shutting the door. If they’ll leave her car in the lot for the night, come back to retrieve it in the morning once he’s helped her forget about her loser ex-husband; let the scent of her perfume seep into the bed sheets to cover up yours.
But he doesn’t lead her to his truck. You watch as they unexpectedly turn down a row of cars, disappearing from your view completely, his arm still locked with hers.
He could still kiss her. Press her against the car. Promise her that he’ll call — and he will, first thing tomorrow. He’s probably just being a real gentleman. Treating her like a woman he might want to marry someday.
Maybe he knows, after just one date, that she’s his soulmate. He’ll buy the ring in a couple weeks. They’ll be engaged in a month’s time, and he’ll say he just couldn’t wait any longer.
She’s the one thing I’ve been missing.
You stew in the agonizing unknown for what feels like hours before Joel materializes once again, backside illuminated by headlights as he strides toward his truck.
And then — he stops. You see the exact moment he notices your car in the parking lot, his eyebrows threading together and his hands splaying over his hips.
He’s staring directly through the windshield. At you.
Fuck.
He takes a few slow steps. Stops in front of the hood. Narrows his eyes and flexes his jaw.
With a deep breath, you unlock the doors. Gesture for him to get in the passenger side.
He immediately rounds the car, prying the door open and climbing inside just as a SUV pulls out the row he and Deb had walked down.
The door slams when he yanks it closed. The sound echoes through the cab of the car.
“You wanna fuckin’ explain what you’re doin’ here?” he snaps. You’re afraid to look him in the eye, embarrassment and now, anger, spooling hot behind your ears.
You know you’re in the wrong. You shouldn’t have followed him. But does he have to be so hostile?
When your gaze finally meets his, he looks — distraught — jaw clenched and lips set in a straight line. His fingers absently dig into denim-covered thighs.
“I don’t know,” you mumble, “I just wanted to see how you were with her.” And it’s the truth; not one you want to be admitting right now, to him, but it’s the truth nonetheless.
“Doesn’t give you the right to spy on me.”
“So what was I supposed to do? Sit at home and mope while the guy I was seeing is on a date with someone else? Oh no, I’m sorry,” you throw your hands up, form air quotes with your fingers, “the guy I was fooling around with.”
This seems to strike a nerve. His jaw twitches, and his fingers still on his lap.
“It wasn’t like that,” he grits
“No? Isn’t that all this was to you: fooling around?”
There’s a beat. Joel sighs.
“No — fuck, no. Of course not.”
His expression softens. A crack in solid stone. “I tried callin’ you,” he says, voice barely above a whisper.
“I know,” you admit.
He nods. Another beat.
“Did you kiss her?” you ask.
“No.” He says it with intent, with promise, eyes firmly locked on yours now.
Your mouth goes dry.
“No?”
“No,” he repeats. “I didn’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because I didn’t want to.”
“You don’t want her?”
“No,” he says flatly, his pupils bulging in the lamplight, black bleeding into the brown of his irises. “I don’t want her.”
“Why not?”
He leans forward. His weight presses into the center console and his breath fans your face — warm, tinged with the scent of cheap beer.
“I don’t want her,” he says, voice an octave lower, “because I want you. I thought you knew that?”
The radio drones between the two of you, some classic rock song you think you recognize flitting through the speaker. Your pulse beats staccato in your throat, off tempo.
“You want me?” you ask, a little breathless, and the next words you say are beyond dumb, beyond reckless, but you say them anyway. “Prove it.”
Joel doesn’t hesitate. He closes the slight distance between you and kisses you, hard, his tongue frantically sliding against yours through parted lips.
It’s sloppy, and desperate, and you feel drunk on the taste of him, on longing laced with carnal need. He’s groaning into your mouth, grabbing your head with both hands, burying his fingers in your hair — as if he can’t get close enough, as if he’ll only be satisfied once he’s swallowed you whole. You’re pretty sure you want him to.
Your hands move frantically to his t-shirt, then, bunch into the fabric and pull. You need to feel the skin underneath, need to rove your hands along his bare chest. He accommodates, tugging the shirt by the back of the collar, lips separating from yours ever-so-briefly to bring it over his head and toss it onto the backseat.
And then he’s back on you, licking into your mouth again, eliciting a whimper from you when his hand wraps around the side of your throat, just under your jaw.
Your palms splay across his torso, wander over warm, golden skin. You’ve missed this, god, you’ve missed this — but it’s still not enough. You need to feel more of him. In your mouth, in your hand, in your cunt — you’re not picky. Just need him in whatever way he’ll provide.
“Joel,” you whimper into his mouth, fingers winding around his bicep.
He pulls back. Peers at you through hooded eyes. “What is it, baby?” he asks through labored breaths.
“Need you — please.”
He immediately unbuckles your seatbelt. Lowers his seat back and manhandles you onto his lap. You go easily; slot yourself to him with legs folded on either side of his thighs.
Wrapping your arms around the back of his neck, you grind down into his lap. His cock strains against denim underneath you. He groans when you swivel your hips and brush the heft of it again with your clothed heat.
“You gonna let me fuck you?” he asks into your mouth, his forehead pressed to yours.
Your breath catches.
You know what he’s really asking: are you going to let him fuck you here, in the parking lot of a public establishment, where anybody could see?
But you don’t care. In fact, you’re way past caring, the emptiness of your cunt too painful to ignore any longer. Let them watch him take what’s his.
You nod frantically. “Yes,” you pant. “Please.”
Joel nods too, as if he’s accepting his fate. He’s going to fuck his friend’s daughter in the passenger seat of her car. There’s no way around it — not when you’re begging for it. He’s going to give you what you need.
“Okay,” he soothes, “I got you baby.”
He helps you out of your pants, then; clumsily maneuvers them down and off your legs along with your panties and tosses them aimlessly into the back.
He doesn’t bother to take his jeans off. Lets you unzip them and pop the button open, your nimble fingers making quick work of it. And then you’re pulling his cock out of his boxers, stiff and leaking in your grasp.
You steady yourself with hands on his shoulders just as he begins to pepper placating kisses along your neck. “Go ahead baby,” he whispers into your ear. “Take it; it’s yours.”
His head falls back against the seat as you stroke him a few times and line his cock up with your dripping entrance, his hands clasped around your waist.
You sink down slowly, savoring every inch of him as he burrows in deeper. He’s so thick, stretching you like it’s the first time again, your walls fluttering as they relax around his cock.
“Fuck,” Joel slurs, fingers digging into your skin impatiently when you still, fully seated on him.
“Gotta move baby — please move.”
He’s so fucking deep, though, his cockhead bumping your cervix, and your entire body feels gelatinous atop him. A cloying sort of heat hangs around your head. You swivel your hips weakly, your forehead falling to rest on his with a heavy sigh.
Joel is happy to take control, bucking up into you so hard you see stars. You can’t suppress the string of moans that spill from your mouth, and Joel doesn’t seem to mind. He’s just as loud, anyway, his broken sounds bleeding into yours, bouncing off glass and leather.
Neither of you can muster an actual word, though, not with him rutting up into you, sheathing himself in your pussy over and over again. He’s relentlessly hitting that spot — the one that has you practically clinging to him for dear life.
It’s approaching too quickly; he’s going to make you come.
One of your hands flies to the roof of the car in an attempt to brace yourself, flat palm pressing into it so hard you worry it’ll pop.
Joel takes the opportunity to drag you down in his lap, spearing you on his cock, and the sudden change in angle makes you cry out.
“Oh f— ahh, oh my—“
“That’s it,” he coos, “you got it, babygirl.”
His words tip you over the edge, your entire body locking up as you gush around him. You’re wetting his lap, slick splattering his thighs, and he loves it, his fervid moan telling you so.
His movements begin to falter then, hips stuttering underneath you as he chases his own high.
“Cmon, baby,” you goad, “please fill me up.”
He grunts when he spills inside, his face nestling in your chest, heaving as he works through it and begins to come down. You don’t move, not that Joel would let you, still holding you on his lap like he’s afraid to let you go.
You nuzzle into his embrace as his cock softens inside you.
You stay like that for a while, probably too long given that anybody could easily look into the car and see you straddling him. You don’t have the energy to care.
Eventually, you lift your head from its spot on Joel’s chest. Look up at him with bleary eyes.
“Joel,” you say.
He meets your gaze, face shiny with sweat and his hair a mess. He looks gorgeous like this, you think. The way only you get to see him.
“Yeah?” He grazes along your arm with featherlight fingers. His touch raises goosebumps on your skin.
“Did you mean it?”
“Mean what?”
“About wanting me.” In truth, you’re not sure you want the answer. But you need to know, definitively, if Joel is yours. You’re done sharing him.
“Oh, baby,” he drawls. “Of course I do. You’re all I want. Do you want me?”
And it’s a stupid question. He has to know that. You’re nodding before he can even finish it. “Yes,” you breathe. “I want you, Joel”
“Then it’s settled. It’s me and you. No more…interlopers.”
You giggle. Reluctantly separate yourself from his body and re-dress. You settle back into the driver’s seat with achy legs.
You’ve never felt more content than you do in this moment.
Still, you’ll have to hide — won’t be able to share the news of your new relationship with friends or coworkers, your dad — and neither will Joel.
You don’t care much, not as long as he’s yours, but you need to be sure he feels the same.
“Joel,” you stop him as he opens the passenger-side door to get out. He stills with one leg swung out the door.
“Yeah, darlin’?”
“Are you sure you don’t mind…being a secret? Don’t mind keeping me a secret?”
He looks at you like you have two heads.
He pulls his leg back into the car. Shuts the door and leans over the console again.
Taking your chin between his fingers, he forces your gaze. Makes sure you’re listening.
“I want you — doesn’t matter who knows or doesn’t know. Long as you’re mine.”
Your chest tightens, and your heart squeezes inside your ribcage.
“I’m yours?”
He smiles. Presses a chaste kiss between your eyes, on the tip of your nose, on your lips. The same way he did the other morning.
It all feels somehow sweeter, now.
“Yeah, angel. You’re mine. My girl.”
end notes: tysm for reading! please consider commenting and/or reblogging if you enjoyed! I've been toying with the idea of turning this into a series so lmk if that's something you'd be interested in hehe.
Also, I hopped on the bandwagon and made a sideblog for notifs! I'll be doing away with a taglist from here on out, so follow @joelscurlsupdates & turn on notifications if you wanna be notified when I post a new fic :-)
tag list: @janaispunk @amanitacowboy @fhatbhabie @frannyzooey @lola8888673
#joel x reader#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x female reader#dbf!joel#joel miller x reader#joel miller#joel miller fic#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller smut#pedro pascal#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal smut#pedro pascal fanfiction#tlou fic#the last of us fanfiction
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angsty fight between miguel and wife!reader
and then they make up yayayayay
Give Me Reasons We Should Be Complete
✿ฺ Paring ➳❥ Miguel O’Hara x F!Reader
✿ฺ Summary ➳❥ Miguel has been pushing you away for some time now. After a talk with a friend, you and Miguel try to sort things out.
✿ฺ (A/n) ➳❥ Inspired by “DANCING IN THE DARK” by Joji. Writing this made me think back on past crushes/lovers. But thank you for your request! I am also holding back on writing smut because it keeps getting labeled and it takes me longer to write.
✿ฺ Word Count ➳❥ 1.4k
✿ฺ Content Warnings ➳❥ Female reader, angst-to-fluff, swearing, Miguel is kinda a dick head, mentions of sleep deprivation…
Want more Miguel content? Check out my MASTERLIST!
You stood in his cold and dark office. The best source of light was his laptop but his huge frame blocked most of the light. You managed around the crumbled paper and thrown desk objects with a plate in hand.
“Miguel?” You peer over his shoulder, “I made you dinner.”
He nods.
“You know you haven’t eaten since yesterday.”
He nods again.
“And you know that you’ve been here for a long time. I think it’s best for you to-”
“Take a break?” Miguel interrupts you, “I don’t have time for that.”
“Miguel, I’m sure whatever it is, it can wait a few minutes. All I’m asking is for you to eat something.” You try to set the plate down.
“I thought I made it clear that I do not want to be bothered. You’re distracting me. Leave.”
He didn’t mean it like that… He didn’t mean it like that. He didn’t mean it like that. He didn’t mean it like that…
“But Mig-”
“I said go.” He growls, his eyes turning its blood red from anger, “You’re becoming a nuisance.”
He didn’t mean it like that.
“Okay.” You tried not to let the crack in your voice show. You didn’t even bother to leave the plate behind because you knew it was going to be wasted.
“And don’t bother me again.” You heard him say as you left his office.
You took deep breaths, trying to calm yourself down before you burst into tears. But your hands shook, nearly dropping the plate.
You choked down your sobs and let your tears fall, the plate was left in the fridge, and you pushed yourself to your bedroom. It was basically yours now since Miguel was sleeping in his office.
The sheets no longer lingered on his cologne and any sign of his presence was gone, other than his clothing and a few photos. The room has become a mess of discarded clothing, old plates and cups, and candy wrappers.
How long has it been since Miguel showed affection? Or even looked at you?
This was normal behavior for Miguel, right? You should know, you’re married to him. You’re his wife. But he experienced loss, unlike you. You didn’t want to judge him for how he deals with his emotions, he’s emotionally distant. You knew that from the start.
And because of this, you felt like he deserved more than what you could give him. It’s what kept you going through the many times Miguel tore your heart, how it squeezed in pain at his actions and words. How you look the other way and ignore his hurtful words.
You couldn’t sleep. You left the still cold bed and dressed in something warm and headed up to the roof.
You sat on the edge, looking at Nueva York. How beautiful it looked during the night, which is one of the reasons why you liked sitting up here.
“Sitting all by yourself?” You tense up only to relax when you know that voice, “At this time? All alone?” Peter B. lands next to you, his daughter in his arms.
“I would ask my husband to join me but he’s too busy.” You respond truthfully.
“Again? He’s been at this all week.” He sits next to you.
“Yeah.” You huff.
“And… how are you holding up?”
“I’m fine.”
“Really? Because it doesn’t look like it.” He offers Mayday who reaches out to you.
You take her and set her down on your lap, “I just don’t know what to do, everything I do seems to bother Miguel. Checking up on him, bringing him food. It feels like he’s doing this on purpose.”
“Miguel’s always been difficult and from the time I spent with him… He’s different, not like the rest of us. He’s accepted his fate as Spider-Man and believes he’s destined for bad things 24/7. But good things do come along, like you. I think… I think he’s trying to come to terms that he can get it because he deserves it.”
Mayday coos, pulling at your hair, “And I think Miguel is scared. He puts on his tough act because he has to, yet he’s afraid to admit he’s scared. Normally, people would’ve given up on him. Why haven’t you?
“Till death do us part. I don’t want to lose him. I don’t give up on him because when you love someone, you love them every single day as who they are.”
“Talk about romantic.”
“Oh please.” You look down at Mayday, “Plus I think-”
“There you are.” You jump and this time, you remain tense, “I was looking for you.”
“Now you’re looking for me?” You respond, refusing to turn your head.
“It’s late, (Y/n). It’s dangerous.”
“I’m here, she’s alright.” Mayday jumps into her father’s arms.
“I’ve already had enough of you. Please, (Y/n).”
“It’s fine.” You tell him, following Miguel inside.
You head to the bedroom, “Where are you going?”
“Bed.”
“(Y/n)-”
“I’m tired and I do not want to be bothered. That includes you too, Miguel.”
“Excuse me?” He follows you into the bedroom.
“You heard me.”
“Please, (Y/n), talk to me.” Miguel begs.
“I’m sorry, did you just say talk? Like I have been trying to do for the past week?”
“(Y/n)-”
“You know what? No, no. You do not get to try to get me to talk after all of this. I have been trying, I have been all in. All I asked of you was to look after yourself.”
“I know.”
“You know? You KNOW?” You scoff rather loudly, “Did you know that Lyla has even talked to me about your behavior? I’m worried about you Miguel. All the damn time, even more when I see you not eating and staying up all night. All I ask is one minute, one bite of the damn food.”
“I’m… I’m so sorry.”
“Is sorry all you have to say? Not even a half assed excuse?” You see Miguel trying to form a sentence but nothing leaves his left and his head hangs low, “I need to be alone.”
You walk past him but he grabs your arm, “Please don’t leave.” He says, “Please don’t walk out that door.”
“I’m sleeping on the couch, you could have the bed.” You look up at him.
“I love you, (Y/n). I know I don’t say it as much but I fucking love you. He’s right, you know. I am scared. Scared of everything. Because at first, I didn’t think I could have that, have you. You let me hurt you and that is unforgivable.”
He’s crying. Looking right at you, letting himself be bare right in front of you. His grip on your arm loosens and his hands come up to your face, cupping your cheeks. You could hear his staggered breathing, trying to keep himself composed.
“But I wasn’t lying when I said I love you, I wasn’t lying when I said I wanted a family, and I wasn’t lying when I said that you make me believe in love.”
“I’m always here for you, Miguel. You don’t have to go through things alone, but when you want to, I’m here.” You take one of his hands into yours, pulling it away from your face but keeping a tight hold on it.
“It’s not that easy. I hurt you, I understand why you don’t want to.”
“I love you, Miguel. We’ll work on this. I promise you.” After a moment, Miguel practically tackles you, nearly falling to the ground. The hug is tight and warm, and you could feel your shirt become wet with Miguel’s tears.
“You’re okay, right?” His voice cracks as he speaks through his sobs, “Please tell me you’re okay.”
“I promise you, I am okay.” You whisper.
“I’ll make it up to you, I swear.”
“You can start by getting some rest. But you’ve got a lot of apologies O’Hara.”
You don’t know how long you and Miguel stayed like this, nor did you care. All you cared about was Miguel and he felt complete at last.
© 2023 Intoxicated-Chan, I do not allow my work to be copied, translated, modified, adapted, or put on any other platform with permission.
#x reader#x female reader#fluff#angst#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel o'hara#miguel o’hara#spider man x reader#spiderman 2099 x reader#spiderman x you#spiderman 2099#spiderman x y/n#spider man across the spider verse#spider man 2099#spiderverse#spider man x y/n#spider man x you#spiderman x reader
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good morning ࿏ wm
summary: in which you decide to get what you want first thing in the morning.
words: 3.9k
warnings: top!wanda, power bottom!reader, dubcon/noncon, breeding kink, cumstrap (r receiving), somno (r giving), blowjob on cumstrap (r giving), enhanced strap, brief choking, just imagining slutting top!wanda out like this woeidbsibfwioe its the power bottom in me
this fic is for 18+ only. minors dni. read with discretion.
masterlist.
The room was cool and the bed warm by the time you woke up. Legs shifting smoothly under the crisp sheets, you could hear the faint chirp of a lone bird outside the window along with what sounded like a gentle spring morning rain shower.
Plat plat plat plat the rain softly tapped against the window and quietly onto the roof above you. It was a sleepy rain, an early morning rain whose clouds blocked the sun from glaring through your window. It made waking a little easier, a little more soft.
The other thing that made waking a peaceful experience was the warm body you were tangled up with. The soft, curled ends of light brown hair tickled your bare shoulder, and it was the first thing you saw in the dim room as you opened your eyes. Your head rose and fell slowly with Wanda’s steady breath. It was resting on her bare chest, the skin there hot against your ear. She always slept so hot.
Your legs were tangled with hers, your arm thrown across her torso. As you blinked your eyes awake, you tilted your head upwards to get an angle of her from below. The stretch of her jawbone, the mountain of her cheekbones just beyond it. Heavy eyelashes fluttered closed, deep pink lips pursed in her sleep. The crinkle between her eyebrows that was always there when she slept. She was starting to get a permanent wrinkle from it, and while she was embarrassed of it, you told her it was just the imprint of all the dreams she’d ever had right there in one wrinkle between her brows so she would never forget them. Wanda was always a deep dreamer, for better or worse.
The puffy comforter you shared rested right below her breasts, likely pushed down during her overheated sleep. Her hair was splayed over her chest, barely covering the peaks of her soft pink nipples. Her skin looked pale and soft under the dim gloomy morning light. You let your hand glide over the soft expanse of her tummy, fingers pressing into her flesh as you shift, waking up a little more. Letting out a silent yawn, you casually let your hand stroll further down beneath the blanket, being thrown off guard a little when your hand touches cool silicone between her legs.
It was Wanda’s new creation still left strapped around her hips via harness from last night’s endeavors. It took a lot of research and magical effort for Wanda to create her enchanted strap that functions like a biological part of her body. Using her magic, she enchanted the strap so that she can feel through it and cum through it. Let’s just say the first few tries once she perfected it could be described as very quick, hot, and wet on her end. It was the most mind-blowing feeling she had ever felt, being able to feel you inside. Even now, a few weeks later, she still warns you how sensitive it still is, which you could tell from the beginning because of how fast she came with you.
Wanda’s magic was very powerful—spontaneous creation. For that reason, she insisted on wearing a condom the first several times using the enchanted strap out of fear of accidental pregnancy, though you knew she secretly had a breeding kink. Finally, she stopped using condoms, but she still pulled out of you every time. It was hot, seeing her get so close to just doing it, to just letting go and planting her cum deep inside you. You could see it on her face every time. But every time, milliseconds before release, she pulls out and chooses to spill all over your tummy or back instead. Of course, that was also hot in its own right. But you desperately wanted her to cum inside. You weren’t sure if it was the risk or the ownership aspect of it, but you fucking needed it.
And you knew she wanted it too. She had a tendency to hold you down when she’s about to cum, almost as if she is about to force you to take her cum, which you willingly would take every single drop. You even told her in a heated moment of passion to cum inside you once, and she almost did accidentally. Hearing you say that made her orgasm immediately, and she had to frantically pull out right as she spurted all over your mound, making sounds you’d never heard her make.
And now, in the dim morning light with cozy rain coming from outside, and Wanda’s soft, warm sleeping body with her cock in your hand as you thought over all these times with the new magical piece, you wanted it.
But she was so pretty and peaceful in her sleep with her crinkled brow of dreams and her slowly rising and falling chest. You wouldn’t wake her.
Licking your lips, you shifted your body so that you hovered over her, taking great care in slinking down her body without moving the blankets or the bed too much. With the hem of the blanket resting at the back of your neck, you rested your elbows over her plush thighs, eyeing the strap that now sat right in front of your face.
Humming, you trail your fingers to the harness straps, fiddling with the fabric on her hips for a moment before you carefully let them trail to the base of her cock, taking it in your fist gently. Glancing back up to her, you saw the same image—her head resting on the pillow, turned to the side, sleeping peacefully like an angel. The warmth between your legs grew as you formulated the plan of your desires, licking your lips and coming closer to her strap.
You placed Wanda’s length in your mouth. It surprised you every time how big she was—an advantage she smugly gave herself when crafting her piece. Suctioning your lips, you began to swirl your tongue around the tip of the strap with a gentle but purposeful pressure.
It didn’t take long before your mouth ignited the spell within the strap, and her magic peered through the silicone in cracks that looked like molten lava in a crimson hue. That’s how you knew she was aroused now, and as you looked up at her again, she was still sleeping as peacefully as ever.
It took some practice for you to understand how to give your girlfriend a blowjob since it was your first time, but Wanda was patient and could get off with basically any touch you gave her with how sensitive the strap felt when she wore it anyways.
So you lowered your mouth further down on her strap that was warming up between your lips, keeping your hand on the base to keep it steady. Letting your other hand gently squeeze her thigh, you sucked her gently, wanting to make her feel good but not wanting to wake her up. It startled you when, as you took her entirety in your mouth so that the tip of her cock poked the back of your throat, Wanda’s legs twitched under you. It was only once and, looking up as you deepthroated her, you saw that the sleeping look on her face remained unchanged.
The depth with which you took her in your throat prompted tears to form in your eyes and saliva in your mouth. Sniffling, you kept taking her all the way in and then suctioning as you lifted your mouth from her, letting your tongue flick around her tip before deepthroating her again. You were slow and gentle, but she was hot and throbbing with magical arousal. You could even smell it on her now and, reaching down under the base where her slit was, you found that she was wet there, too.
Getting excited, you bobbed your head perhaps a little too hard, and she twitched again, this time letting her head sway to the other side. You paused, waiting for any sign of further movement or signs of being awake, but she was still deep asleep, the crease in her brow deeper now. You went back to sucking her off dutifully, and as wet sounds filled the air, Wanda moved again, this time arching her back. The movement sent her hips bucking up, which shoved her cock into your throat unexpectedly, causing you to choke on her girth.
Recovering, you continued carefully and watched as she twitched and squirmed in her sleep, somehow still staying deep asleep even as you could feel her throb faster. Her lips fell open at one point, soft gasps of air filling the quiet, dim room along with your wet sucking sounds. Her body heated up even more under your hands, and she started to buck her hips more.
Picking up your speed, you deepthroated her more and more, choking yourself on her strap while she grew even more restless. You knew she was seconds away from cumming, so you grabbed the base of her strap and sucked harder and faster. Finally, with a whispery, sleepy moan, and a more violent twitch of her hips, Wanda came in your mouth. You kept your mouth around her, feeling her warm cum gush at the back of your throat and ooze down it. You waited, letting her twitch and gasp and push out every last drop of cum before you finally swallowed it and took her out of your mouth. She was sweet to the taste with just a hint of metal, an interesting mix of her magic that reminded you of the taste of her real arousal.
There were many benefits to this magical creation of Wanda’s, one of many being that there was an unlimited supply.
Her cock now wet and shiny and slightly glowing, you carefully crawled back up her body and straddled her. She had almost immediately fallen back into utter stillness as soon as she came, except for her chest that was rising and falling much faster now. Biting your lip, you reached down and took her breasts into your hands, squeezing and letting your thumb roll over her nipples that were already rock hard for you. You could feel her cock, resting below your thigh, twitch and throb, basically vibrating with magic. All you could taste was her cum that coated the inside of your mouth, the taste still soaked into your tongue.
She just looked so pretty, even more relaxed now, having just helplessly cum in your mouth without even knowing it. Leaning down, you pressed a chaste kiss to her still lips before moving your mouth to her neck and pressing soft, wet kisses there. You let your hand grope her breasts for a moment before sliding it down and rubbing her tummy, lowering it further and further until you reached below yourself and took her strap in your hand again.
Still kissing her neck, and feeling her twitch once below you, you adjusted yourself over her cock and rubbed your throbbing, wet slit down her length, not letting it go inside. You remember the first time you did that, before she ever went inside you with the new strap, and she had prematurely came. She had been so embarrassed, taking off the cum-filled condom and tearing the strap off of her and getting up, but you’d found it so hot. You loved having this control over her. You loved knowing that you held this power over her, that you could make her cum so easily, that she desired you so much that she found it hard to even have any control. You wanted to tease her constantly, to degrade her and embarrass her by using her desire for you against her.
Wanda’s sleepy breaths hitched as you rubbed your warm, wet folds up and down her length, leaving a wet, sticky trail on the strap. She shifted under you, turning her head back to the other side. Her eyebrows creased deeper, her face contorting into a look of neediness as she subconsciously bucked her hips, pushing herself harder onto you. Chuckling, you gave her one last kiss on her neck before sitting up fully, unable to control yourself anymore. You wanted to get what you truly wanted out of her before she woke up.
Your breathing growing heavier, along with the rain pattering much harder on the window outside, you lined Wanda’s cock up with your entrance, letting it sit there pressed against it for a moment. You took a deep breath—her size still surprised you, and you still needed to relax and prepare yourself before taking her in. Thanks to the blowjob and how wet you were, there was enough lubrication for you to lower yourself down on her cock, feeling her slide right in and stretch your walls around her.
“Fuck,” you whispered as you stopped halfway, feeling a tinge of pain. Wanda shifted beneath you, which didn’t help, so you just took another deep breath and basically slammed yourself down on her, Wanda’s entire cock ramming deep inside you.
As if on cue, right as you let out a louder shriek than you meant to because of the way her cock hit your cervix, Wanda also let out a sleepy form of a moan, her head swaying to the side as her legs shifted under the blankets below you.
Placing your hands on her shoulders, you stayed still and felt her throb inside you as she squirmed, watching her eyes scroll side to side behind her eyelids. Biting your lip, you slowly lifted yourself off halfway before coming back down again, nearly seeing stars when she hit your deepest point again.
It was obvious that doing this wasn’t going to keep her asleep for much longer. She was still moving, eyelids fluttering, lips twitching as if trying to speak between her growing breaths. She was breathing faster now, redness blooming on her cheeks.
There was no point in being careful now. Grinding your teeth together, you rolled your hips, throwing your head back as she hit your sweet spot in your lower tummy. She was so big that her cock was basically all you could feel as you rode her, feeling pure pleasure bloom inside you as you anticipated the ending you were dreaming about.
“Mmmm-nnnn” Wanda murmured as she squirmed more beneath you, kicking at the sheets covering her feet and arching her back. “Ahhh…” She was starting to come to, being lured by your actions into an in-between state between sleeping and waking. She was arching her back off the bed and bucking her hips up into you, natural instinct to have more friction and be as close to you as possible coming through.
Power filled you as you stared down at the helpless witch, her cock lodged deep inside you, throbbing as you bounced on it. You bit the tip of your tongue and squeezed her shoulders, digging your nails into her skin as you rode her cock.
The feeling of your nails in Wanda’s skin was the one thing that brought her into awareness. Her eyelashes fluttered, mouth dropping open. Finally, her eyes opened fully, exposing those pretty irises that were usually green but were now a deep, sleepy crimson red from the magic she was subconsciously using.
A grin slashed across your own face, your tummy filled with excitement as you watched the look of confusion on Wanda’s once peaceful face. This was the second moment you were anticipating the most. Her eyebrows contorted in confusion as she stared up at you, her eyes blank with dumb sleepiness at first as her mouth let out heavy breaths. Then she blinked a few times, her eyes falling down over your body and to her own. She saw her cock, glistening with wet, appear halfway with every other bounce you made. She watched it appear as you lifted up, and then disappear again as you slapped yourself down on her lap.
Then she felt it. The tight, wet warmth. The squeezing of your walls around her. The more textured parts around your cervix, how much warmer and tighter you felt the deeper she was. Your lips smushed against the base of her cock when you had her fully inside. The ridges of your cunt massaging her length as you jerked up and down on her, the friction feeling like a white hot flame of pleasure with each stroke.
Her mouth fell open wider with a loud, startled moan, her hands immediately slapping onto your hips and holding them. “Baby!” she exclaimed in surprise, trying to blink the bleariness out of her eyes as you continued fucking yourself on her.
You giggled at her reaction, how she was confused but so turned on and so obviously overwhelmed by the feeling of you milking her cock as soon as she woke up, this being the very first thing her consciousness experienced this rainy morning. You felt her cock swell a little inside you, now that she was awake with her magic.
Her breathing turned into gasps, her eyes squeezing shut as she hissed through her teeth, her hips trembling as you slammed down onto them. “Fuck, baby, fuck, fuck,” she croaked, her voice sleepy and husky and burning hot in your ear.
“I always wanted to wake you up like this,” you whispered, scratching down her chest and over her nipples, causing her to let out the cutest little high-pitched whimper.
“Fuck,” was all she could whisper, holding your hips as they bounced up and down on her length.
You could see the sweat breaking on her forehead, the flush in her cheeks, the way her tummy tightened under your palm. She was getting close.
“D-Did you use prot-protection?” Wanda stammered, her brown hair starting to stick to her temples. She knew the answer. She could feel it, but she needed to ask anyway.
Chuckling, you let out a pornographic moan just to make her shudder and then said, “Nope.”
Wanda’s eyes widened a little in panic. She could already feel herself leaking a little, or maybe it was just your wetness, which was also dripping down her shaft and onto her thighs. Through the slight panic in your eye you could see the desperation, the idea she always dreams about sitting right there in her brain.
You purposefully clenched, and she bit her lip and threw her head back, her body lifting off the bed as she pushed herself into you. You gasped at the depth but used your strength to pin her hips back down to the bed.
“Baby,” she breathed, her eyes barely open. “Baby, get up.” Her voice grew breathy with quickness. “I’m gonna cum. Get up.” She slapped your hip a few times to make you get up, but you kept riding her.
“No,” you purred, leaning down closer to her face and smirking. “You can easily push me off if you want to.” You watched her, struggling to keep her eyes open, her body moving with your bouncing, look up at you with such a strong mix of horror and desire on her face. You waited, but she only continued to struggle beneath you, not making any effort to use her magic or strength to push you off. “So why don’t you?”
Wanda whined, throwing her head back and closing her eyes as if just looking at you was going to make her bust. Her nails dug into your hips as she trembled, looking like the pleasure was turning into pain as you continued to ride her. There was no way she would actively deny you. She could stop herself all she wanted when it was her in control, but if you were going to take it from her, she couldn’t not acquiesce.
“Baby, please,” she murmured through gritted teeth, tears forming in the corners of her eyes from the struggle to keep herself from cumming. You knew she could stop it if she wanted to—you didn’t have her physically wrangled, and even if you did, her magic could put an end to it immediately. “Please, get up, I can’t hold it.”
Grinning, you slam your hand over her throat, and she gasps, choking slightly as you squeeze her throat. “You’re so cute like this,” you whisper, “Begging me to stop. You’re the one who can’t control yourself.”
Tears were falling down her cheeks now. “Please, please,” she begged, her eyes squeezed shut. “Please, baby, I can’t—I can’t hold it—I’m gonna cum, fuck, please…”
“Do it. Give me all your cum,” you hiss, riding her harder to the point where the bedframe slams against the wall. Wanda, choking on the pressure of your hand around her throat, trembled and violently twitched below and inside you as she tried her hardest to hold it. But she was hot to the touch, and so were you, and your cunt felt so good squeezing around her cock, and you were taking complete advantage of her which she found to be so hot, and she hadn’t been able to stop dreaming about breeding you for weeks now, and it was all too much for her to even stop it.
“Fuck, baby, fuck, get off, I’m gonna… fuck, fuck fuck!”
Wanda’s nails dug into your hips as her words turned into incoherent babbles, her mouth falling wide open and her body lifting completely off the bed as she finally lost all control. You tried to watch her as long as you could, but your eyes fluttered closed when finally you felt her cock give one last hard twitch before loads of her burning hot cum went gushing deep inside you, splashing the wall of your cervix and filling your tummy all up.
The feeling made you cum, shivering on top of her and squeezing around her which only prolonged her orgasm even more. Wanda saw flashing images of you pregnant, which had been fueling what she thought was fear for weeks now, but she was learning just now that that fear was pure fetish. She tugged your hips down onto her and pushed herself as deep inside you as possible as she loaded you with her cum, surprising you with her strength as she kept you in a complete hold.
After a few moments, when she had filled you with all she had to give, which was a shocking amount this time because of how long she had held it, and you were limp against her chest, recovering from your own orgasm, Wanda finally relaxed, letting go of your hips and closing her eyes.
“Fuck,” she breathed, panting as sweat rolled down her tear-streaked face. You were quiet for a minute, relishing the feeling of a full tummy of Wanda’s cum, her cock throbbing gently in your cunt. You were so glad she’d enchanted that strap.
Finally, you hummed, looking up at her. She looked dazed and fuzzy-minded, her eyes hooded and cheeks blushing red from embarrassment. She sighed and grinned sheepishly, placing her hands over her face. You smirked. “That was a lot better than cumming on my tits, right?”
Wanda breathed. “Well, good morning to you, too.”
#wanda maximoff x reader#wanda maximoff#scarlet witch#scarlet witch x reader#marvel#lgbt#lesbian#top!wanda#power bottom#subby top wanda#sub top wanda#elizabeth olsen#lizzie olsen#wanda maximoff x f!reader
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She knew it was wrong, all those nights bathed in the blue light of her phone screen, her body stripped bare and stretched out on her bed. She knew they were using her. Could feel their eyes on her as she writhed, and posed, and followed their orders like a good girl. She loved the attention, the rawness of it. The intensity of being their plaything, adrenaline coursing though her body as she stripped and teased and followed orders.
Of course she had some limits when she started. First, she’d only show her tits, pinching and groping and teasing for the camera. She vowed to keep her pussy off screen… But then, one night, she slipped. It felt too right to obey. Too right to give him what he wanted. To be his whore. His sick, gross little pornstar spreading her cunt for the camera. Then he made her finger herself. Calling herself names and showing off her insides. A stranger looking inside her. Laughing at her. Calling her a whore.
She threw up afterwards, sobbing in the bathroom. Shame doubling her over, fingers shaking as she desperately rubbed her swollen cunt. Gasping for breath as she came over and over to the humiliation of what she’d just done. Eyes coming back into focus, only to see the mess she’d made, her little cunt gushing everywhere. She’d never cum that hard before in her life.
After that, it only got worse. Now she fucked herself on command. Smacked herself, wrote on herself, choked herself with a belt as they degraded her to each shuddering orgasm. She was porn. A broken thing for men to use, sobbing and shaking as she plunged a plug in and out of her freshly gaped asshole on camera. She let them see her face, flushed and filthy with her own drool and wetness as she fingerfucked her sloppy throathole for approval. And after each session she’d pass out, fingers still buried in her cunt, addicted to the adrenaline of being their porn.
Each twisted act and broken boundary only fueled her need, until finally, in a fit of desperation, she broke down and told one of them her address. He barely acknowledged it, and she wasn’t sure he heard, but when she woke up with a hand over her mouth six months later, she realized that it was always going to come to this.
Now he controls the camera. Every week, thousands of strangers log on to watch the broken whore on stream, and see what disgusting things he’ll do to her next. Sometimes it’s only for a few hours, sometimes it lasts for days, but they always get their money’s worth, savoring her cries, bathed in the blue light of their screens.
#abuse k1nk#humiliation kink#degredation kink#bd/sm kink#bd/sm dom#bd/sm slave#cnc k!nk#r4p3 kink#r@pe k1nk#rough cnc#cnc kidnapping#attention wh0r3#degrading k1nk#dumb wh0re#dumb slvt#r@pe k!nk#r@petoy#r@pedoll#r@pe kink#cnc rough#r@pe fantasy
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SPEAK TO ME | Alastor x f.reader
Summary: Alastors voice turns you on. Something he loves to take advantage of.
FULL STORY!
Here we have it! The full story! 5k of pure smut. Enjoy darlings!
Tags: Dom!Alastor, masturbation, oral, light bondage, fingering, dirty talk
Attraction was a funny thing. It could never be explained, and often, it just appeared one day. Attraction could hit you like a train in the dead of night, but sometimes, it would follow you like a shadow. Whispering sweet words in your ear without making itself too known, not until it was too late, and you realised that you had stayed awake for two hours when you should have been asleep instead of thinking about what someone's hands would feel like on your skin.
Attraction was an annoyance, but lust, its evil twin, was irrational, unpredictable, and, worst of all, it made you stupid.
So incredibly dumb.
The lust had crept up on you like a thief in the night. Stealing your rational mind and sanity, leaving only the body to fend off the raging attraction that wanted to sink its teeth into your tender flesh.
Having a crush on the radio demon was a poor choice and a painful one.
It began weeks ago when you first arrived at the crumbling hotel.
Hazbin Hotel, with its rehabilitation program, had been your last resort after your landlord, who really deserved to be in Hell, kicked you out of your apartment.
You had been tired of fending for yourself, trying to work, feed yourself and find an apartment with a landlord who wasn't a humongous creep. It seemed to be an impossible task in Hell. It wasn't until you heard one of your coworkers talk about the interview on the news with the princess of Hell that you found out about her little redemption project.
The Hazbin Hotel appeared like a lighthouse on the horizon for you, and the prospect of a warm meal and a soft bed was too enticing to pass on.
Charlie had, of course, taken you in straight away and for the first time in days, you felt like you could finally catch your breath.
The bath you took that evening in your own bathroom, connected to your own bedroom, was heavenly. Almost sinful with how much pleasure you took from it.
The next day had been quite overwhelming to you, to say the least. Thrown into the middle of trust exercises with people whom you had known less than 24 hours, where you had, in the span of two hours, visited a bondage club and escaped a turf war that Vaggie had thrown you into. If that was how she had learned to trust others, then maybe you weren't cut out for redemption.
While the other hotel residents turned out to be a wonderful company, one, in particular, made your little sinner's heart skip a beat.
Alastor, the infamous radio demon.
He had ... not been what you had expected.
From all the tales you'd heard of him, you expected a grotesque monster who murdered anyone who would just look at him funny. But he couldn't have been further from the image you had created of him from all the rumours.
First of all, he was beautiful. His soft red eyes were so hypnotising that you feared you would drown in them, with a smile showing rows of sharp teeth. One thing was for sure: Hell would contort any morals and virtues you may have had, and if you had liked the idea of lovers biting your skin during intercourse before, it was now a raving obsession. An obsession that would fule you nightly fantasies for weeks and weeks.
Sometimes, that was the only thing you could think about, his sharp teeth grazing your neck or nibbling your ear.
Alastor was also very charming in his own way. A gentleman by hellish standards. Whenever you were going somewhere in the same direction, he would always hold up doors for you or pull out the chair for you during dinner time. Something you were highly unused to, and it had taken a long time for you not to blush whenever he did it.
Whilst his jokes were lame at best, the conversations you would have late at night by the fireplace were your favourite time of the day. Because you loved his voice. You really loved his voice.
There was something so bewitching with that transatlantic accent and that strange buzzing overlay to how he spoke. It made it sound like he was far away when he was, in fact, right in front of you, and the gentle buzzing had made you tremble more times than you could count.
Something that you suspected that Alastor had caught on to with how often he would appear behind you, only to put his head right beside yours and say the most innocent things that would make you react in the most sinful ways.
The day he had started to call you 'my dear' had been a day you would never forget, for you had laid awake all night imagining him whispering those exact words in your ear as you brought yourself to climax. Again, again, and again.
You had had a tough time the day after looking him in the eyes without thinking of all the times you had desperately whispered his name into your pillow with your fingers between your legs.
"What's this?" you asked, surprised as you sat down to eat breakfast. On the table sat a red present with a big black bow right in front of the seat you always occupied. You could recognise Rosies' gift rapping technique anywhere.
"It is a gift, my dear. Open it," answered Alastor and sat down to your right at the end of the table.
You and Alastor were always the two residents in the hotel who were awake first: You because you wanted to spend as much time as possible with the strange but charming sinner. Unfortunately, he had the habit of disappearing during the day, so you only ever had the morning and the night to talk uninterrupted with him. You also suspected that Alastor barely slept because, after your evening chats, when you went to bed, Alastor would go up to his radio tower to host his show, and you had no idea when he would end them.
You opened the gift slowly as if savouring it, trying not to get too excited about having gotten a gift from Alastor when, in reality, you just wanted to rip it open.
Inside the box was a beautiful antique radio in pristine condition. The dark wooded exterior was smooth and shiny as if someone had just polished it, and it made you almost not want to touch it in case you left fingerprints on it.
You looked up at Alastor, whose smile seemed to grow as he looked at you.
"I remember you telling me that you had never had the pleasure of hearing my radio show, and now you can listen to it whenever you want!"
At times like these, you wondered if Alastor knew of your slightly obsessive crush on him. He struck you as a man who liked to play with his food.
The radio turned out to be a great gift that you used almost religiously. Every evening, when you were preparing to go to bed, you would turn on the radio and listen to Alastor's radio show. You would have the radio on softly in the background as you walked around your room doing your nightly routine. Sometimes, you would even invent stuff for you to do so you could stay up longer just so you could listen to his voice.
It was almost like he was in the room with you, talking just to you about anything he found interesting. On the odd occasion, Alastor would incorporate a passive-aggressive threat into the show for some poor sinner getting in his way, but that never scared you. In fact, you looked forward to those instances.
Alastors' voice would drop and get darker, reminding everyone who listened that he was still dangerous—a predator waiting to strike.
A wolf in sheep's clothing, and what a stupid sheep you were. Yearning for the wolf bite.
Halfway through your night routine, you turned on your radio at a soft, pleasant volume, and Alastor's smooth voice filled the otherwise silent room.
"Salutations, friends and hellish residents! Tonight, we have a splendid assortment of the latest news and the best Hell has to offer in jazz, but before we chitchat about our dear city's hellish affairs, here is the newest music from Miss Jezebel and The Wicked Six!"
Slow and sultry jazz music started to play on the radio. The woman who sang had a deep, smoky quality that was inherently sexy to you. There was just something about women who sang with deep voices that made your hips sway from side to side, effortlessly dancing across your room as you started to strip, pretending there was someone there who enjoyed the show you put on.
You turned off all the lights except the small lamp by your bed and crawled under the thick blanket. Leaving the radio on as you made yourself comfortable, hugging one of your pillows close to you.
The song ended, and Alastor came back. This time, he started talking about the news. Since the news sometimes made you too sad to sleep, you never really listened to what he was saying; you only listened to his voice—his tone, the cadence of his speech, and his transatlantic accent.
You let his voice wash over you like a soothing balm to your aching body, but soon, you felt the familiar tingles run up your back. Warmth pooled low within you as you shifted in your bed, lying on your back. The desire to touch and be touched grew in you, to move, to grind, to satisfy the urge for sex.
Closing your eyes and letting your hands wander over your body, you start by slowly dragging your fingertips over your sensitive throat, making sure that your light fingertips touch all the places that made you weak.
Your hands travel from your throat down to your chest. Palming your breasts in your hands, you drag your nails over your sensitive nipples. Pinshin, pulling and rolling them between your fingers till they are warm and hard.
Your senses sharpen as you start to feel more intensely, but your mind goes hazy, making it hard to think clearly. Alastors voice is but background noise now that edges you on.
One hand stays on your breast as the other journeys down, down, down and under your underwear.
You slowly drag your finger between your lips, coating your finger in your wetness as you slowly pull it towards your clit. A breathless gasp is pulled from your mouth the first time your finger comes in contact with your sensitive clit. Slowly and with the lightest touch, you start to circle the organ, and what feels like electricity builds in your loins.
You can't help but move in your bed, legs bending and toes curling as you give yourself the pleasure that you wished Alastor would provide you. Your hand that previously played with your breast joined your other hand, and you let out a not-so-subtle moan as you pushed two fingers into you. Desperately, you curl your fingers inside you to increase the pleasure.
You want it. You need it. Your toes curl almost painfully as Alastors name falls from your lips like a prayer.
You're so close. So close you can see stars behind your eyes. You breathlessly chase that sweet release. Building, and building, and building. Your legs are shaking as you bite your lips. Hips lift from the mattress as you fight the urge to close your legs.
You are so, so close.
"What are you doing, my dear?"
Cold dread crashes through your body as you rip your hands away from your body. You frantically look all over your room in the shadows. Looking for that all-knowing smile and calculating red eyes.
His voice had been so close and clear that he had to be in your room. It had felt like he had spoken to you right beside your ear. But you were alone. No one was in your room but you.
"Such a naughty little creature you are, my dear. So desperate to be touched."
Goosebumps travel up your back as you slowly turn in the direction you hear his voice. On your nightstand is the radio that Alastor gave you. It is still on, but the yellow light of the display has turned red.
Towering over you in your bed, you almost feel like he is watching you. Observing you as you lay naked before him. Your blankets were by the end of the bed as you had kicked them off a long time ago.
"Can't even listen to me talking without having to touch yourself. My oh my, what will I ever do with such a bad little doe, hm?"
Shaking all over, you lunged for the radio's electrical cord and jerked it out of the outlet. The radio fell silent as you collapsed in your bed. Spent, but not satisfied. However, you soon start to tremble all over again over the fact that Alastor had listened to you pleasuring yourself, and he seemed to like it.
You would be lying if you said you had a good night's sleep after that fateful evening—or if you said you had slept at all.
You had stayed up all night replaying the previous night's events, unable to comprehend what you had been through. Had it really happened? Had Alastor really listened to you masturbate while you were moaning his name? It had almost felt like a fever dream had you not stared at the pulled-out electrical cord for the radio all morning.
The clock on your dresser kept ticking as you sat in your black dressing gown on your bed. The time was about to turn nine, and you had not stepped a foot outside of your bedroom, too scared to face the man after your night. You knew you had to leave your bedroom sooner or later, but you were waiting until you were sure that Alastor would have gone for the day to do whatever he usually did during the day. As soon as you were sure that you would not encounter him in the hallway, you would sneak out of your bedroom and go down to the kitchen to steal all the snacks you needed to survive the day cupped out in your own room, like the coward you intended to be.
It was one thing to fantasise about Alastor naked, but it was a completely different thing to now face the possibility that maybe he would like to see you naked, too.
Three knocks were heard from your door out of nowhere before Alastor slammed the door open and stepped in with a silver tray full of food in his band. You let out a small yelp before climbing further up into the bed to get away from the other sinner, who waltzed into your room as if he owned the place.
"My dear, what are you doing in bed at this hour? Don't you know that you've missed breakfast?" Alastor's voice was laced with a hint of amusement as if he found your predicament delightful. He walked over to the little table and armchair you had in front of the unused fireplace on the opposite wall to the bed and sat down the tray on the table before conjuring a matching armchair out of thin air. He sat down as if nothing was out of the ordinary and leaned his cane against the armrest as soft jazz music began playing.
As you sat on your bed, feeling increasingly uncomfortable in your underdressed state, you watched in disbelief as Alastor, seemingly unperturbed by your unease, crossed his legs and settled into your room. His casual demeanour, coupled with his humming along to the music, only served to deepen your sense of bewilderment, and you were sure that you were hallucinating.
You must have eaten something terrible yesterday, and maybe everything you thought happened last night and now was all in your head.
"Are you going to eat or not? Your food is getting cold, my dear."
The look Alastor gave you from the corner of his eye told you that it was in your best interest to sit in the armchair in front of him and eat.
You slowly left the safety of your bed and walked over to Alastor. However, the steps you took on the way were tiny, considering that your dressing gown ended in the middle of your thighs, and you didn't want to flash him accidentally. Not caring about the look you got from Alastor, you shuffled your feet across the room and sat down in the armchair, struggling as you continued to keep your legs as close together as possible.
With shaking hands, you took the small coffee cup and were about to put it to your lips for a sip when Alastor spoke up again:
"Aren't you forgetting something, my dear?"
The look he was giving you made shivers travel up and down your spine. Shivers dipped in fear with a hint of excitement. He had never looked at you so intensely before.
"Thank you for bringing me breakfast," you whispered hoarsely.
"Good girl." You almost choked on your coffee, "And you're welcome."
You had a tough time looking into his eyes after that comment as your cheeks grew warmer and warmer.
Without warning, Alastor began to talk about everything that needed to be done that day. Apparently, Niffty had found a cockroach infestation in the basement, and Charlie had decided they would use chemicals instead of Niffty's needle, which she liked stabbing them with.
Alastor kept talking on and on about work and the hotel as you ate. On the outside, you kept calm as you finished the last of your breakfast, but on the inside, you wondered if he would mention what had happened yesterday. Had it even happened?
Maybe it hadn't, and your obsessive crush had finally broken you.
"Ah, I see that you have finished your breakfast! Well, I best be on my way!" With a snap of his finger, Alastor made the breakfast tray disappear into a red cloud. He did, however, leave the extra chair he had conjured up.
"Could you be a doll and tell Vaggie that I'll need the documents later today and that she can leave them in the bar? I need to head out today, and I don't think I'll be back until this evening," said Alastor as he stood up, brushing invisible dust off his impeccable suit.
"Uhm, sure. I'll do that. Just close the door when you leave, please," you answered as you looked as Alastor made way for the hallway door. He waved absentmindedly over his shoulder in affirmation of your request.
A small part of you were disappointed that this little breakfast meeting had turned out the way it had, no matter how confounding it had been. If only you could have gotten a hint from Alastor about what he was thinking and why he frankly was there.
Maybe he had just brought you breakfast from the goodness of his heart? Or he had just missed your company that morning since you usually only got to talk uninterrupted in the morning.
You turned around to walk to the bathroom as he left your room. Letting your shoulder slump in disappointment, you wondered what you would do that day. You remembered that Charlie had mentioned that it would be nice if the hotel's garden were more well-kept but that she couldn't hire a gardener just yet.
That could be the thing you did today. Find some gardening tools and surprise Charlie by pulling out all the weeds in the flowerbeds.
Oh, what a joy, you thought sarcastically as you started to open the bathroom door. However, it slammed close hard in front of you as a hand shot forward and a hard chest pressed into your back.
All around you began shadows to dance as if they were made of mist, and the air got charged with a static you were all too familiar with. The shivers came back, but your whole body shivered this time as his other hand gripped your hip, pressing you closer to him, but the only thing you could focus on was his breath fanning over your ear as he whispered:
"I will be back at eleven tonight, and when I get back, I will find you in your bed, naked, waiting on me. You are not allowed to touch yourself, and don't try to defy me, my dear, for I will know if you do."
In a heartbeat, Alastor was gone, and your body instantly felt colder. Shaking all over, your knees finally gave away under you, and you collapsed in front of your bathroom door.
Behind you, the radio began to play softly—the same music Alastor had played during breakfast. Looking at the blasted thing, you could see that the radio wasn't plugged in.
The clock was about to strike a quarter to eleven, and you had been a nervous wreck for the past three hours. Time couldn't have gone by slower as you constantly turned to look at the clock hands to see how far they had moved.
You had tried to distract yourself during the day with the gardening, but you constantly got distracted by all the fantasies you had of what Alastor would do to you. Turned out that it was really hard to work when horny.
As you looked at the clock again, you re-adjusted in your bed for what felt like the thousandth time. 22:47.
Ugh, this is taking forever!
Laying down again, you looked over at the radio on your nightstand. It had been quiet since the morning, but you still waited to hear the tiniest sound from it that would indicate that Alastor was with you. But nothing came.
You turned on your side to continue staring at the radio as you took one of your pillows and pressed it against you. The air in your room was cold against your skin, yet you ignored your chilled skin, for the mere thought of what would happen tonight warmed you from the inside out.
The benefit of laying on your side was that you now could feel the slickness between your legs, coating almost all of the insides of your thighs. You knew that Alastor had said that you were not allowed to touch yourself, but he had never specified in what way you could not touch yourself, and if you didn't get some of your release soon, you felt like you would spontaneously ignite.
Slowly, you started to press your legs together as you rubbed them against each other. Sweet pressure was building up the pleasure within you as you pressed your face into the pillow. Harder and harder, you tried to push your legs together, increasing the pleasure you had longed for all of them.
Close, you were so close, and the excitement of defying Alastor just heightened the experience.
You only needed one more push until you would fall over the edge into sweet release, but it never came as something grabbed onto your ankles and roughly pulled your legs apart.
"I must say, I am really disappointed in you, my dear."
From the shadows stepped Alastor out and looked down at you from the end of the bed, but what scared you the most was that he was not smiling.
Looking down at you from heavily hooded eyes, Alastor dragged your body further down the bed, keeping your legs spread out with the help of his shadow tentacles.
"I'm so sorry! I didn't mean it," you pleaded, hoping he would show you mercy, but from the looks of it, you would not be shown any.
"Don't lie to me. You know very well what you did." With a snap of his finger, the armchair Alastor had conjured earlier that day dragged across the floor and stopped behind him. He sat down and made himself comfortable, looking over at you as he had a full view of between your legs.
"Now, darling, since you didn't listen to me, there will be consequences," said Alastor, crossing his legs and leaning his head in his hand lazily. You pressed up on your elbows to look over at him, and while his body language did not look interested, his eyes were sharp, focusing on your wetness that glistened in the light from the chandelier.
"One, you are not allowed to touch me."
"What?!" you cried, the fear that you had ruined your only chance with Alastor burning within you like a forest fire.
"Silence." You instantly shut your mouth as static filled the air and prickled your skin. Alastor's antlers had grown in size. He sighed and continued when he was sure that you would not say one more word.
"As I was saying, you are not allowed to touch me, but I can touch you however I want. If you wish me to stop, you will simply say television. Understod?"
"Yes."
"Yes, and?"
"Yes, sir?" You weren't sure what Alastor wanted to hear, but from the smirk that started growing on his lisp, you were sure that you had said the right thing.
"What a good little doe you are, my dear." Whilst you were sure that was said condescendingly, you could not help the pride that grew in you that he thought you were good for him. A small yelp was pulled from your lips as you felt Alastors tentacles start to massage their way up your legs.
"You seemed to like my voice so much, my dear, that I thought you must love it if I command you as well. Isn't that what you want? For me to tell you exactly what to do to you and how to do it? Wouldn't you like to put on a show for me, darling?"
Your brain was short-circuiting as you could not get a single word out. The only thing you could do was nod enthusiastically as Alastor's shadow tentacles gently began to play with your lips between your legs without touching your clit.
"Lovely." said Alastor, now giving you his trademark smile, "Why don't you show me how you touched yourself yesterday? I could hear those delicious sounds you made, my dear, and I want to hear them live."
And so, with shaking hands, you began massaging and caressing your body, making sure that you touched every part of your body that made you sing in pleasure. You wanted to put on a show, but you were so eager, so impatient as you played with your body that you could not bear the thought of prolonging this torture.
You needed to be touched, and you needed it now.
Dipping your hand between your legs, you could feel Alastors tentacles pull away from your genitals but keep a firm grip on your thighs. The first time you touched your clit was electric, as you made sure to look Alastor deep in the eyes when you did it. A soft moan from you filled the air.
Rolling the tip of your finger lazily against your clit you looked on with great satisfaction as Alastors eyes dropped from your down to your finger between your legs.
"Drag your fingers between your lips, darling, but before you do, circle your opening. Slowly without pushing in," commanded Alastor, and if you weren't delusional, you thought you heard the desperation in his voice, but his face gave nothing away. He readjusted in the chair by uncrossing his legs, giving you a full view of his hard cock in his pants.
Never had you been filled with the need to fall on your knees and suck someone's cuck as if it was what you were created to do as you did now. You licked your lips and whined loudly as you circled the opening to your vagina with your finger, wishing it was Alastors finger or tongue that did it instead.
After circling for some time, you pulled your finger through your lips up to your clit and began touching your clit again. This time, with additional wetness, you let all the sounds you wished to make leave your mouth as you quickened the speed of your finger.
"That's it, darling, you are doing so well." Whispered Alastor as he leaned forward in his chair, "When you feel like you're about to cum, remove your finger immediately."
The demand almost made you want to cry, but from the look Alastor was giving you, you did not want to challenge him. Savouring the feeling of your fingers a few seconds more before you removed your fingers from your clit that begged your release. The orgasm that had been at the tip of your fingers slowly fizzled out as you started to calm down.
You looked at Alastor, who had moved from his chair to sit on the bed by your feet, waiting for his following instructions.
"What a treasure you are, darling. So willing, so needy."
Alastor lifted his hand and, with the back of his fingers, caressed the inside of your thigh. The touch was so charged that it felt like you could cum from that mere touch alone. As your leg twitched from his touch, Alastor's tentacle tightened around your leg, pulling you closer to him. Your breath got stuck in your throat as you watched Alastor climb onto the bed, sitting on his knees between your legs.
"How long have you dreamt of this? How long have you been mine without me knowing it?" The look in Alastor's eyes grew increasingly intense as he leaned over you, looking down at you with an almost mad look in his red eyes. Out of nowhere, Alastor pushed two fingers inside of you and curled them, making your hips lift from the bed involuntarily at the pleasure.
"How long, my dear? Answer me," he growled as his antlers grew. You could barely breathe as he continued to curl his finger repeatedly inside you, hitting the spot that made your toes curl.
"Since... since I first met you!" you cried as your breathing quickened. Above you, Alastor chuckled darkly as he put his free hand on your left thigh.
"So long. We have much time to catch up to, don't we, dear?"
You could barely comprehend a single word that left his sinful mouth as you neared the orgasm you desperately wanted. And had you not made the mistake you would have made, you would have cum on Alastors finger.
In your lustful haze, you placed your hand on Alastors arm, holding your thigh. Instantly, Alastor recoiled from you, and the second orgasms you had almost tipped over were ripped from you.
"What did I say about not touching me?"
Two new tentacles came out of nowhere and wrapped around your arms, pulling them above your head.
As you begged and pleaded for forgiveness, the weight of your desperation was palpable. You implored Alastor not to leave you like this with every fibre of your being. The thought of losing him now was unbearable, and you knew that if he did leave, it would be the end of you.
Your legs shook from the strain of being in the same position for so long. Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill over at any moment. You were overwhelmed with emotion, your heart aching with the fear and uncertainty of what would happen next. The tension in the air was unmistakable, and you held your breath, waiting for Alastor's response.
But he only looked at you from under heavy lids. Slowly, he lifted his hand that had fingered you and licked the wetness that was still on it.
"If you think I would leave you now, my dear, you are indeed mistaken. You are mine now, and I will do with you as I please." Grabbing both of your legs under your knees, Alastor pulled you towards him before bending you backwards so your toes almost touched the bed beside your hands. He stared deep into your eyes as he put his tongue against you and licked you from your vaginas opening up to your clit. The sound you made had been ungodly and would have been a miracle if no one else in the hotel had heard you.
Alastor quickly started to suck and lick your clit as your legs began to shake. You could feel the sinner's claws dug into your flesh as he grew increasingly frantic in his administration, acting almost like someone who had just been presented with a glass of water after 12 days in the desert.
Pressure built up within you for the third time, this time stronger and more intense than the previous ones. Closer and closer, he took you to the edge you wished to fall from.
Shaking, twisting, and pulling against your restraint, you let Alastors name fall from your lips loudly as you looked at him, giving you pleasure. Blood was dripping down from your thighs where his claws had dug into your skin, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was the sweet release that you begging for.
"Close, Alastor, I'm so close," the words tumbled out of you in a whisper as you looked on as the man licked your clit with the tip of his tongue. The only thing Alastor did was briefly look up at you as he continued to give you pleasure.
Closer, closer, and then you fell.
The orgasm ripped through your body like a tidal wave, making your thighs tremble uncontrollably. Your toes curled almost painfully as you threw your head back in ecstasy.
You had no idea when Alastor had put your legs back down, but suddenly, when you came to it, he was sitting by your head, gently brushing your hair from your sweaty forehead.
"What a good little doe you were for me, my love."
Thank you for reading my little story! I hope you like it!
Taglist: @mossingvines @kitty-kei @chibistar45
#alastor x reader#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel fanfiction#alastor x you#x reader#alastor the radio demon#hazbin hotel alastor#hazbin hotel alastor x reader#hazbin alastor x reader#hazbin alastor x you#alastor smut#alastor x reader smut#hazbin hotel smut
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POV: Your Alastor's wife and it's October
(A/N: I didn't read anything beforehand, so if you see any weird mix ups of whatever, I'm sure your brain can ignore it thank you <3)
“My dear!” Alastor exclaimed towards you, who was at the bar, conversing with Husk. Your attention changed so that Alastor had it fully, which made Husk roll his eyes and chug a drink down. “Mon amour! How are you this hellish evening? I haven’t seen you all day.”
“Ah, yes well,” Alastor tugged on his coat, his grin somewhat strained. It wasn’t obvious for the majority of the others, but it was to his wife. “Just some irritating demons on the streets, is all; nothing to worry about.”
You narrowed your eyes. “Alastor, I know what that face means.”
He raised a curious brow. “Do you, now?”
“Mhm.” You sipped the last of your champagne, and thanked Husk for the drink, earning a nod from him. “It means you’re horny.”
…
…
…
“What? Noo!” Alastor attempted to brush off, his eyebrows stitched with disbelief. “You know how I am about anything sexual, dear. I—” “Yes, yes, it’s not really your thing; we all know that. However,” light flickered through your gaze as you bore into Alastor’s eyes. “That doesn’t mean you can’t escape that month you hate so much.”
Alastor remained quiet, his eye twitching. You shrugged. “I mean, hey, if you want to wait it out, suit yourself. People will ask where you’ve gone, and you don’t want them to give in to curiosity, do you?”
He hesitated before grunting, grabbing your wrist, causing you to yelp. “Fine.”
As your giggles of amusement echoed in the halls, Charlie tilted her head. “What’s he going to do to her? Oh, no, I hope it isn’t anything horrible…”
Angeldust snorted, swirling his pink cocktail before sipping. “Nah, he’s probably gonna fuck’er.”
“What!?”
“Angeldust!” Vaggie exclaimed, causing the spider demon to look at her in surprise. “What? You saw the way he looked at her, plus the way she was teasin’. I thought it was obvious.”
Cherri bomb grinned. “No shit they’re gonna fuck. But it’s kinda weird, don’t cha think? The edgelord finally wants to bang someone.”
Charlie thought about it. “Well, they are married.”
“Wait, they’re fuckin’ what now?”
“Wow, is this month that tough you gotta drag me to your room, Alastor?” You teased, causing him to groan. “You don’t even want to know how much I had to endure for the past couple of days.” He replied.
Your brows furrowed. “Honey, if it was hurting you, you could’ve asked me way sooner. You know I would’ve been more than happy to help you.”
Alastor laughed, locking his door, and whisking the swamp side of his room away to not let anything disturb them. “Of course, you would’ve been, darling; you’re always so willing to help. Speaking of which, would you be a doll and soundproof the area?”
You cocked an eyebrow, obliging nonetheless. With a flick of your wrist, blue wisps coated his bedroom, leaving some sort of shiny residue scattered in the room. “Oh, I didn’t realize it was going to be a rough night for the both of us…”
“Oh, shut it.” Alastor mumbled before walking towards you. He crashed his lips onto yours, cupping your cheeks with fervor and slight desperation. You let out a noise of surprise before giggling and allowing your husband to do whatever he needed to do. You snaked your arms around Alastor’s neck, scratching the base of his ears, just how he liked it.
He let out a soft sigh of bliss, his steps making the both of them stumble onto the bed, with him on top of your. Before, Alastor normally just locked himself somewhere private, usually his radio tower, until this stupid cycle wore off. But now that his wife, his technical mate, was right where he was currently residing, it was way more difficult than it was before to be cooped up.
He had attempted to take matters into his own hands, both literally and figuratively, and the only thing it gave him was sheer shame and embarrassment, so he had stopped trying. So, to have you below him was such a relief.
And yet, he wanted more. He needed more.
He needed to taste you, and mark you, and show every single demon that came your way that you were his wife. No one else’s.
Alastor pulled back from the kiss, planting small yet precise marks on your jaw, causing you to softly moan so quietly it riled him up even more.
He tried his best to keep his composure calm, to hold himself back. But he truly couldn’t with how foggy his mind made everything become. Alastor sunk his teeth into your neck, right below your pulse. You let out an animalistic groan, your back off of the mattress already. “Alastor, love, calm down—”
“Apologies, my dear, but I don’t think I can.” He responded tightly, licking the wound he inflicted fervently, shuddering as the metallic taste hit his tongue. You chuckled, sweeping his hair away from his face. “Alright, then. Do whatever you need to, sweetheart.”
Alastor tried to think clearly, to regain any sort of control he had in his sexual desires, but he so miserably failed. The urge to bite you and mark you and make everyone know that you were his overruled his mind. It was the only thing he could ever think straight at that moment.
“Mine…” He muttered, kissing and sucking on almost every single part of your neck. His hand had other plans, though, as it traced your figure until it reached your hips, and it squeezed hard.
You let out a yelp and a moan, your breath practically nonexistent as you chuckled. “I’m yours, darling.”
His hand, even if it was just one, grounded you to the bed. You found yourself unable to move, not that you cared, anyway. Alastor rarely needed you in this sort of way, and to have him like this, so desperate, so needy, it made you feel things.
You were not quite sure what was going on hearing-wise, but you felt yourself saying Alastor’s name as a plea. He groaned, pulling himself away from your neck with a strained struggle. He drank you in, his smile still present. You almost laughed as his eyes didn’t match that, though, since they were looking at your outfit in disgust. He adjusted his position to balance himself before snapping it away, leaving you bare.
You gasped at the drop of temperature, causing you to scoff. “Alastor! At least warn a demon.” His deer ears twitched as he descended onto your collarbone, peppering kisses everywhere. “I apologize again, (name). I just…” He took a deep breath in and felt his eyelids fall heavy. “You’re intoxicating…”
At the mention of your name, you stirred slightly, feeling the heat pool down to your core. Alastor must have noticed this, however, since he started trailing kisses around your chest, his favorite part being the underside of it. He nipped at the skin and sucked like a dog in heat.
Well, a deer in rut, but one must digress.
You squirmed in your position as he bit down right before he resumed his trail of kisses down to your stomach. He could feel your arousal like it was his own, and that put him in quite the predicament.
“Aren’t you going to take care of yourself first, Al? You’re practically bursting.” You quietly asked, a hand running through red tufts of hair that was tickling your torso. A low growl escaped Alastor’s throat. “I will; have some patience, love.” Me? You’re literally bulging. “But right now, I need a taste of you…”
Your eyebrows twitched as they creased together. “What are you trying to do—” You cut yourself off with a yelp as Alastor planted a soft kiss on your clit, making your jump. “If I go too far,” Alastor started, gazing up at you through his bangs. “Tell me.”
You nodded, knowing that he never would go too far, and if he did, he would be too busy enjoying his meal to understand that.
Alastor’s grin just stretched wider before probing his tongue into you, causing you to shudder with a groan at the feeling. You played with his ears, your breath being stolen away. Honestly, if it weren’t for his cannibalistic and homicidal instincts, he would’ve landed a spot in Heaven with how gentlemanly he was, giving you pleasure before indulging in his own.
Alastor was fully aware of the growing tent in his pants, but he paid it no mind, which he was glad he was at least able to do. With that, he knew his mind hadn’t succumbed to the worse thoughts that he dreaded the most.
He lapped and sucked up all of the juices you had to offer, his pace unforgiving and sloppy. You could feel your own claws puncture the mattress with how tight your grip was on it, but you were sure Alastor wouldn’t care later on. He doesn’t really…sleep.
With how quickly Alastor was working against you, you felt that knot in your stomach appear just as fast, making you curse under your breath. For someone who doesn’t really like anything inherently sexual, he sure is a master at it.
Alastor felt it. He felt you getting closer, and he wanted nothing more than to see you writhe in pleasure all because of him, and nothing, or no one, else. The hand that was gripping your thigh to the point of wounds hooked your leg onto his shoulder for the time being, holding it in place as he quickened his pace.
The only thing you could do was whimper and plead and whine. And every single syllable that dropped from your mouth went straight to his arousal, and he cursed internally. A string of violent curses escaped his wife’s lips as you tugged on Alastor’s hair, which led him to hiss in both the pain and pleasure it shamefully gave him.
“Close—Alastor, wait—!” You managed to cry before snapping, waves of pleasure crashing into you intensely. You let out a demonic groan as Alastor drank you until your high faded.
Your head flopped onto the fluffy pillows of Alastor’s bed, staring at the red head of hair just where your abdomen started. The radio demon rested his head on the inner side of your thigh, catching his breath slightly, which caused a bit of feedback from the voice effect he always had on.
“Are you satisfied?” You asked, tilting your head. Despite the fact that Alastor kept smiling, his brows twitched. He was far from satisfied.
You laughed, and Alastor could hear a bit of nervousness laced into it. Not that kind that was associated with fear, but the kind that was associated with excitement.
It’s going to be a long night for the both of them.
You sat up properly before crawling to be in front of Alastor. “It’s quite unfair that I’m the only one bare right now.” You teased, undoing the buttons of his coat. Though, even as you did, he knew how much you enjoyed that power difference.
Alastor didn’t resist as you unbuttoned his waistcoat and shirt underneath. You had stopped undressing him when his shirt hit the strain in his pants, and he felt an annoyed grunt scratching his throat at the lack of friction. “(Name), dear.”
“Hm?”
“You have to stop teasing…”
You scoffed out a laugh. “Is the radio demon attempting to beg right now?” Alastor’s face immediately turned bright red, the cold air that was hitting his bare chest not helping him, either. “Chérie, don’t make me do this—” “What, beg?”
You had figured out how to make it more fun for you, and more cruel for him.
It made him so embarrassingly hard.
Your positions were now flipped, since Alastor had tried (and failed) to cage you in, and so when he crawled towards you, you swiftly went behind him. So now, his back was towards the headboard, his ears pinned back slightly. Without his coat, you could really have a nice view of his small deer tail which was currently tucked in between his legs, barely covering the bulge in front of his pants.
His grin twitched. “So, how are you planning on taking advantage of our current situation?”
You laughed, a finger to his lips to shush him, which made an irk mark appear on his forehead. “Oh, dear Alastor, have some patience! You wanted me to have the same thing just minutes before, right?” Your finger swept to his chin to lift it up as you leaned in closer. So close Alastor heard your pulse.
Your eyes fluttered closed, your lips mere centimeters apart. Alastor sighed, ready to feel the sensation of your soft lips against his, but he only felt the cold air hit it instead. He opened his eyes to find you grinning with an eyebrow raised. His brows dropped as his smile strained, just as much as his pants were. Alastor cleared his throat before giving you an amused gaze. “Do you really think that would work on me?”
You shrugged, leaning forward to straddle yourself on him. He cursed under his breath (a rare scene, honestly. You savored every moment) as he felt himself buck against you. “Well, it did; there’s no real debate about it, hun.” You cupped one of his cheeks, in which he melted into, while tracing the outline of his deer ears with your other hand. You laughed breathlessly. “I’m sorry, your ears are just…absolutely divine.”
Alastor fought back every single moan and whine that you were pulling out of him from playing with his ears. “The things you do to me…” He whispered as he grinded against you slightly, that needed friction making him see stars.
You almost lost self control at that statement. Just the way Alastor was slowly breaking under you purely because you were touching and prodding at his ears gave you such a power surge. Your hands made their way to his pants, where they undid them and freed Alastor, who had just hissed at the cold air hitting his cock.
You stared and ogled at the sight before you, your hand wrapping itself around it. Alastor tensed, his shoulders raised slightly. He let out a shaky breath, watching his own chest rise and fall to calm him down.
He was already leaking, and you used that to your advantage. You stroked painfully slowly, causing him to shiver. You glanced at Alastor’s expression with a sly smirk. “You’re enjoying this a lot, dear.”
Your tone was mocking; Alastor heard it. He tightly chuckled. “How would you know?”
“Alastor. You’re so hard right now.”
“Oh.”
You snorted before increasing your pace against his cock. Alastor cleared his throat, feeling his mind fog with desire and lust, the two things he really wished hadn’t plagued his mind too much.
You felt a tentacle wrap around your left thigh, and your breath hitched. “Al?-” It started to massage your pussy, making you gasp and grip Alastor’s cock a bit too tightly.
He grunted in both pain and pleasure, that brief moment of extreme bliss washing away again. “(Name), love, I think you should calm down this time.”
“Well, it’s not my fault your stupid tentacles start to just—” You cut yourself by sighing in relief, the same tentacle you were referring to going in circles against your already sensitive clit. “I swear.” You muttered, quickening your pace against Alastor.
Suddenly, you stopped your hand, cursing when the tentacle wouldn’t do the same. At that lack of motion, Alastor swore under his breath, his grin showing annoyance as he grunted. Yet even with shocks of pleasure spreading across you body, you kept a steady face, the smile on your face absolutely shit-eating. “Is someone annoyed already? Doesn’t feel good when pleasure’s just taken from you, does it?” You swiped you thumb against his tip which made Alastor stir. He let out a low, dragged-out moan at the sensation. you repeated the motion, amused at the way Alastor took a sharp inhale and exhale, as if regulating his senses.
Alastor hated the way you pouted at him as if he were some pitiful creature. “Awh, does someone crave what he wants?” You scoffed, swallowing a gulp of saliva as the tentacle on your pussy quickened its pace. you attempted to think of something, anything, that could postpone your orgasm.
Ah, you knew.
Angeldust said something about Valentino having a waterboarding kink. Honestly, the thought of Valentino was enough.
You grinned, tilting your head as you set your pace to be irregular. When you knew Alastor was at the edge, you stopped, then when you knew that it subsided, you would continue. “You thought I wouldn’t make you beg for it?”
Alastor couldn’t help the lewd noises he was making, letting out strangled moans and whines and huffs. Just who do you think you are, making the radio demon beg for you?
Well, you are his wife.
Alastor tried to fight the urge to give in, but the way you were teasing him and playing with his pleasure made him want to snap. He averted your gaze as he muttered something incoherent, but you knew what it was.
You slowed your pace on his cock again, tilting your head in feigned innocence. “I’m sorry, dear, I didn’t catch that. You better speak up.” Immediately after you spoke, you bit your lip and cursed internally. You were so desperately close because of what Alastor’s tentacles were doing to you. Hell, you weren't even sure if Alastor knew that his tentacles were pleasing you to the brink of insanity.
Alastor’s pride and ego got the better of him, though, as he mumbled it again, just a bit louder.
“Alastor.” You warned. “Speak. Up.” You quickened your strokes before slowing them down again, smiling as you got the reaction you wanted from Alastor.
“Hhngh, please, darling…” He moaned, his eyelids heavy. Alastor’s grin twitched once more in annoyance. “Please, finish what you started…”
You were going to say something before you felt you coming close. you cursed under your breath, something you didn’t know if Alastor heard you or not. And just as you was about to reach the highest peak,
The tentacle against your pussy stopped its rubbing, and you whined, arching you back. You were grateful for it, though. You could tease Alastor even more.
“Awh, Alastor,” you taunted. “Surely you can do better than that…right?” You placed a kiss beside the tip, and Alastor suppressed (but horribly failed) the need to moan. “Beg like you mean it.”
Alastor accidentally whined, his eyebrow twitching once he heard himself. “Please, darling… don’t tease me like this…” You gazed into Alastor’s eyes, a look of mischief on your face as you stroked quicker.
He moaned heavily, his chest rising and falling at an alarming rate. “Fuck, please let me finish already…!”
Your eyebrows shot up at that crisp swear, you grin stretching from ear to ear. “You’re getting there, love.” The speed of your strokes gradually increased. Suddenly, you felt the tentacles again, but this time, it was just one. It was two.
You discreetly attempted to glance back, getting interrupted by the thicker one prodding your entrance. you gasped, trying to regain your composure and control over him. You tried your best to focus on Alastor instead. “You’re so cute when you beg; you know that, right?” You propped yourself on your elbows instead of having your other hand support you to play with Alastor’s cock more.
More quickly than he would have wanted, Alastor felt himself losing control. He let out an animalistic groan, gritting his teeth. His shoulders tensed once more as he felt himself getting close. He bucked his hips into your hands, the friction making him whimper ever so slightly. “Please…please, please, please please…”
You had never heard Alastor so whiny, so helpless. It was unlike him, just allowing you to assert yourself in this kind of situation. But hey, you didn’t mind. In fact, you loved it.
You should visit more often.
The hand closer to his tip massaged it with the thumb, making Alastor cry out in response. His breath was shallow and ragged, and his voice was breaking. His radio filter was long gone, and just the sound of his real voice made you go crazy.
You felt yourself nearing your climax, too. With how quickly the two tentacles were either massaging or pumping into you, you realized it was inevitable.
You decided it would be ideal if you came together.
You immediately quickened your pace against him, the fact his whole intimidating facade was gone with how he was muttering pleas made your heart pump, if undead hearts could do so.
Alastor felt kisses against his inner thigh, and that was what sent him over the edge. With a cry of your name, strings and strings of white translucent fluid released itself from his cock. His hearing was compromised with a ringing sound, but he heard you moan his name out just a couple of seconds after him, your grip against him tightening as you never stopped stroking.
His breath hitched as he realized that you weren't going to stop. “Wait, (Name)—” He whined, his head hitting the pillow behind him. It was too much; the feeling, the pleasure, just everything. He hadn’t even touched himself in decades, so to just have someone stroking him even after he came felt painfully pleasurable.
Thankfully, you stopped after some time, your grip loosening as you caught your breath. Somewhere during that time frame, your right hand made its way to his thigh, acting as a pillow for your cheek. your eyes trailed down Alastor’s twitching cock, and you grinned, liking a stripe from base to tip.
He shivered, his eyes closed as he held his forehead. He placed his hand down onto the mattress and… Why were there punctures in it?
Just as Alastor was about to ask, he noticed movement behind you, his brows furrowed. Then, he saw it. He saw the shadowy tentacles he knew were his.
His eyes widened slightly as he looked at the now flushed out you who was half-lidded with your ass in the air. “My dear?”
“Hmmmm?”
“Why are my tentacles…out?”
“Huh?” You glanced back and sweatdropped as you finally realized just how thick they were. No wonder You felt full. “Oh, they–” You cleared your throat. “They were…fucking me. I thought you knew that.”
Alastor’s eye twitched before he let out a chuckle. “Well, I apologize for that, dear. Though, I hope you can still take more, since,” he sat up straight, helping you fix your posture before picking you up by your hips and straddling you against him, your pussy just mere centimeters on top of his cock. “I’ll be handling you now.” Alastor glanced up to look you in the eyes. “Do you consent?”
“You know I always do.”
Alastor huffed out a laugh. “Whatever you say, darling.” He strained himself as he held every ounce of the animalistic urge that he had kept constrained as he made you sink down onto him. A guttural moan forced itself out and he started to grip your hips tighter, using that as a way to bounce you on his cock.
You always knew and understood how mating seasons work, from their cycles to the subject’s attitude during. Well, you needed to read about it; one can never have too much knowledge, right?
You weren't sure about one thing, though: if demons experienced the same kind of cycle that their animal counterpart did. Well, this explains it.
It was obvious that Alastor was attempting to help you adjust to his throbbing dick but just the idea of being inside you drove him towards the edge. He bucked his hips at the same rhythm you bounced on him.
Your mind was clouded with lust and pure bliss. Alastor’s cock was kissing your cervix one too many times, and it sent you to absolute ecstasy. your lips formed a lazy grin as you kissed him hungrily, causing his hips to stutter.
With no ounce of shame left in his body, he allowed himself to groan and whine at every thrust he did in you, savoring how warm everything felt. How ironically heavenly you made him feel.
The only unfortunate thing in Alastor’s mind was the desire to breed. To fill you up until his cum splattered onto his mattress. He wanted to make a mess of you, and possibly himself in the process. Alastor needed to make sure you knew that you were his, and his alone.
Somehow his lips made their way to your neck, savagely nipping and sinking his teeth into your flesh until he tasted metal. That sweet intoxicating flavor that always drove him wild.
you dug your nails into Alastor’s back, feeling your climax rising up again. It wasn’t long until you were spewing curse words that would make a normal man break down and cry as you felt the cord in your stomach violently snap again.
But Alastor wasn’t stopping. He started to prioritize his release the moment he slipped inside of you. His pace never faltered; in fact, it quickened at an inhuman speed, causing your gasps of air to be just hiccups.
“You’re making me see stars.” He whispered into your ear, desperate and whiny. He could feel that build up happening again, and this time, he was going to get what he wanted as quickly as possible.
Fuck, just the idea of him cumming inside of you almost broke him. He knew that since you were both sinners, you could no longer have children, but it would never hurt to try, right?
His grip against your hips tightened to ground you in place as moaned as loudly as you had ever heard him. He pumped inside of you, thrusting harshly yet slowly until he felt himself fully inside you. you gasped, feeling your pussy stretch until something absolutely huge squeezed itself inside you.
Wait, did Alastor just–
Loads and loads of cum painted your walls, filling you up to the brim. Alastor’s teeth bit your shoulder as he released inside of you. you felt your mouth dry as you finally gasped for air, involuntary moans coming out for you.
You stayed like that for a minute or two, chests heaving as you caught their breath. Alastor’s knot finally deflated, yet it felt like he didn’t want to leave the position. However, you were still at the hotel, and the others might probably be looking for them.
Even worse, they might think they did something steamy.
Well, you did, but Alastor didn’t want that thought in their heads.
He planted a kiss on your forehead, his lips slightly burning from your skin. “We should get going, my dear.” He whispered, his radio filter back on.
“Did you know you could do that?”
“Do what, love?”
you looked at him through lazy eyes. But even if you did, he could practically feel the mischief beaming through them. “Knot.”
Alastor stitched his eyebrows together, confused. “What’s…knotting?”
you tilted your head. “You don’t know how your cycles work?” He averted your gaze, his ears flopping down in embarrassment. “I’ve never really done this before, dear.”
Your grin turned devilish. “Well…”
Oh, deer (hah). It’s going to be a long night for them.
“Where is Alastor?” Charlie asked, looking around. “I’ve been trying to call him for an hour or so but I haven’t seen him.”
Angeldust snorted before it turned into a cackle. “Like I said, toots! He’s probably in his room, fuckin’ the shit outta (Name).”
“I really doubt tha–” “Good evening, everyone!” Alastor exclaimed, his usual outfit now on. His grin remained constant as he wrapped an arm around your waist. “I do apologize for not being present for the past couple of hours. I had some business to do.”
“Yeah, her.” Angeldust mumbled, a smirk on his face. He lifted his face to look at you. “How was it?”
You just smiled, tilting your head. At that, the whole crew saw what you were trying to show.
Marks and marks of bites all over your neck, bruising it a little. They were surprised that it wasn’t bleeding with how wounded it was.
Angeldust’s mouth went agape with a smile. He wasn’t entirely serious about that statement, but for it to actually be true? This was a day he never saw coming. “Ho-holy shit!” He exclaimed with a laugh. “I didn’t realize it was actually true!”
#alastor smut#alastor x reader#alastor x you#alastor#rut season#the way I got slightly interest in a deer's rut season#dear god what am I doing with my life#reader is alastor's wife#reader can kind of manipulate sound#lord have mercy on all of our souls
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a thought:
reader is literally so grouchy and bratty and tired and is accidentally snapping at (whoever u want) and thennn they take initiative to casual dominance her to take a nap after some tea and it’s just so crazy fluffy!!!
Thanks for requesting!
cw: d/s dynamics
Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 708 words
You’d claimed to want to read with Remus on the couch, but you keep huffing like your book is your least favorite thing in the world. Remus wraps a hand around your thigh, rubbing a slow back and forth with his thumb in an attempt to pacify you. He knows precisely what this mood is about.
“Ugh, this construction noise is the worst!” You glare out the window as if hoping the men across the street will see.
“Why don’t you use my headphones and try to have a nap, dove,” Remus suggests mildly. “You didn’t get much sleep last night, sounds like it’s catching up to you.”
You bristle at the implication. “I’m not tired, I’m just sick of this. Nobody asked for the road to be redone. It was perfectly fine before.”
Remus shoots you a sideways look. The road outside your house was riddled with potholes, and you both know it. If you were in a better mood, you’d be baking cookies for the construction workers to thank them.
You ignore it, huffing again. “I’m gonna get some dinner,” you say, setting your book down roughly as you stand.
“Last night’s leftovers are in the fridge.”
“Don’t feel like those.”
Remus gives your bum a light swat through your sweatpants as you go by. “Eat something real,” he warns.
You make a vexed harrumphing sound. He chooses not to hear it.
What he does hear, less than a minute later, is popcorn popping in the microwave. Remus sighs through his nose, tenting his book on the coffee table and pursuing you into the kitchen. You don’t turn around as his footsteps approach.
“Dove.” Remus takes your hips, turning you manually. “That’s not a real dinner.”
You shrug, obstinate. Your stare looks like you’re itching for a fight. “It’s what I feel like.”
“You haven’t had anything with a vegetable in it all day. You need to pick something else.”
You roll your eyes, turning back around. Ignoring him. Remus hits the button to shut off the microwave.
You spin back around, eyes flashing. “You can’t—”
“That’s enough.” He takes your jaw in his hand, your chin resting at the apex of his thumb and forefinger. “You’re being a brat,” he says in a low, steady voice, “because you’re sleepy and probably because you haven’t eaten a real meal since yesterday. That stops now. You’re going to eat the dinner you made yesterday, which you liked, and then go have a nap. Understand?”
Remus isn’t really irritated with you. You’re being unruly, sure, but these moods always end once you get what you’re looking for from him. Now he’s given you it, you’ll calm down.
It’s fucking precious, the way your temper melts away under his hard gaze. Your eyes round out and your head sits heavier in his hand, remorse finding its way into your expression.
“Sorry,” you say, tone about ten degrees milder than it had just been.
Remus rolls his eyes at you, squishing your cheeks between his fingers. “I know, darling. You can still make it up to me. Heat up those leftovers, okay?”
You hum, and he lets you go, kissing the hill of your cheek.
A minute later, you join him in the living room, curling up next to him on the couch while you eat and he reads. Your posture is already less rigid, the both of you enveloped in companionable silence and the smell of warm food. Your fork clinks as you set your plate down on the coffee table, and when you don’t get up to go to bed, Remus looks over at you. Your eyes are already on him, a question in them.
He fights to repress the smile that curves his lips. “What?”
“Can I sleep here?” you ask hopefully. “Would it distract you if I put my head on your lap?”
Remus coos. “No, sweetheart, of course you can.”
“Are you sure?” you ask, though you’re already lying down, him uncrossing his legs to make his lap more comfortable for you. “You’re not still mad at me?”
He tsks, petting your hair while you get comfortable. “I’m not. Wanna know a secret?”
You hum, eyes already closing.
“I’m never really mad at you, dove.”
#remus lupin#dom!remus lupin#remus lupin x reader#remus lupin x fem!reader#remus lupin x y/n#remus lupin x you#remus lupin x self insert#remus lupin fanfiction#remus lupin fanfic#remus lupin fic#remus lupin fluff#dom remus lupin#remus lupin casual dominance#remus lupin imagine#remus lupin scenario#remus lupin drabble#remus lupin blurb#remus lupin one shot#remus lupin oneshot#marauders#marauders fanfiction#marauders fandom#the marauders#hp marauders#marauders era#marauders x reader
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𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 - 𝐥.𝐜 🪸
daughter of poseidon!reader x luke castellan 🫧
summary- in an attempt to keep percy from going insane, y/n is forced to keep her relationship with luke a secret
warnings- feminine reader, post tlt but no luke betrayal (percy is there and chris and clarisse are together), use of y/n
2.4k
Since the dawn of time, you and Luke Castellan have been best friends. Attached at the hip since birth, the two of you have always been close. He was the one who helped you conquer your most intimidating challenges, whether that be the nervousness due to the first day of school or a Minotaur vigorously hunting you down.
And you assisted him, too. On those sleepless nights due to haunting nightmares, you lay beside him, comforting him through every scared shiver. It had always been Luke and Y/N, two peas in a pod, destined to spend eternity together.
Now, you both reside in Camp Half-Blood, eagerly awaiting your next adventure. You loved your time at the summer camp, whether it was tending to the young children or paddle boarding on the smooth and crystal blue lake that glimmered as sunlight passed through. It was thrilling to live such a beautiful life with the people you loved most.
It all started when you waltzed into the infirmary at fourteen, hurt and confused, with Luke and Annabeth by your side. The journey to get here was long and painful, losing one of your best friends, Thalia, in the process. Your head throbbed as Chiron explained the basis of everything, since this whole Greek God situation could be hard to process.
Poseidon, the God of the Sea, claimed you with ease the moment he saw you lingering by the lake all day. With Hermes, it took him a lot longer to accept Luke. However, you cheered him up when no one else could, lighting up his whole world, and no matter how bummed he was about his absent father, your illuminating smile shifted his mood instantly.
You’ve been a year-rounder since then; the world is too dangerous for you to venture off. Every once in a blue moon, however, you wish that just for one year, the monsters would stop prowling and you could explore the cities that tourists swarmed on a regular basis. Other times, you were happy to live in the warm solace you referred to as camp. The companions made inside the safe haven were incomparable to all the mysteries that roamed outside.
Around a year ago, a small blond boy arrived, his cluelessness mirroring yours when you first stumbled in. As you gave him the standard tour, something seemed to be off. The stories he shared of devious monsters attacking reminded you of your childhood, and a feeling of suspicion and concern arose.
Your wariness was only confirmed when the golden trident floated above Percy’s head. Sure, you were excited to have a younger brother, but you knew the dangers the life of a forbidden child contained. So, you made it your honorary job to protect him no matter the circumstance. You taught him how to surf and how to use his powers for the greater good.
And so a magnificent connection was formed, with you and him bonding like full siblings. He loved hearing all of the gossip between the older campers, and you loved when he updated you on how his friends were doing. Not to mention the chaotic board game nights you and he shared with Annabeth and Luke. There were almost no hidden secrets, for you told each other everything. Which is why you felt horrible about the massive personal detail you left out of your weekly yapping session.
You and Luke had been dating for three months. You had liked each other for a while, but eventually the overly flirty comments and long stares got the best of him, and he confessed . One breezy night, he asked you to meet him on the waterfront before bed. You obliged, stepping out into the chilly weather to find hundreds of blooming flowers (courtesy of the Demeter kids) arranged neatly in a heart. It was cheesy, but it was the exact type of movie love you were looking for.
That chilly, moonlit evening, you decided it was best to keep your relationship hidden from Percy and, for that matter, most of the camp. Close friends, such as Clarisse and Chris, knew, but that was only because you went on frequent double dates with the pair. But that doesn’t mean others didn’t bat an eye at your overly friendly relationship. You had almost been caught multiple times, despite Luke being the son of Hermes, who was known for his sly nature.
The first time it happened was entirely Luke's fault. You and him had just finished archery training and were walking to lunch, where the rest of camp resided. As soon as you approached the bustling picnic tables, you were dragged off by the Aphrodite kids, who wanted your help with some fashion emergencies. That left Luke with Chris and Percy, along with some other campers from Hermes cabin.
-
“How was archery?” Asked an unclaimed kid, who Luke had little interaction with. They had small talk every once in a while, but not enough for him to know any personal details about his life.
“It was fine. You know, my girlfrie-“
Luke was lucky looks couldn’t kill, because with the way Percy and Chris were staring at him, he would have been six feet under already. He tried his best to salvage the situation, continuing on as if nothing had happened.
“My friend hit three bullseyes in a row. It was really impressive.” He finished, staring down as he pushed around his mushy broccoli with a flimsy spork, hoping to avoid the glares of his, let's face it, practically brother-in-law. Lucky for him, Percy shrugged it off, and the topic was quickly changed.
-
The second time, however, was most certainly your mistake.
-
The dull light from the moon provided little protection from the consuming jet black sky. You and Luke had to sneak out after hours often, which was one of the major downsides to a private relationship.
“No!” You playfully shouted, trying to juke him out as you ran through the rocky sand of the shoreline. Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately), your boyfriend was the most athletic kid on camp. He easily caught you before throwing you over his shoulder and carrying you to the navy blue lake.
You gently punched his back through strained laughter, gasping for oxygen. But as he attempted to step into the cold winter waters, you used your powers to manipulate the sea so it avoided his path. And with one quick swoop of your hand, he was drenched with the cooling solution, and you remained dry.
He set you down, aggressively shaking the water from his head. “I forgot you were like the princess of the sea.” He said. Your harmonious giggles caused him to grin from ear to ear.
“Yeah, maybe not the best choice on your end. C’mon, Percy probably has a shirt for you.” You replied, interlocking your fingers and skipping back to your cabin.
You sneakily creaked the door open, hand over your mouth to try and hush the laughs that spilled out. Percy was sound asleep, snoring softly as you made your way to his dresser, rummaging through the array of neon orange shirts.
“Here. Mr. D gave him the wrong size by accident a while ago.” You whispered toward him before dragging him back out with the fabric still in hand. Once outside, he slid his soaking shirt off, carefully placing it next to your clothes that hung on the drying line. After giving him the t-shirt, you kissed him goodnight and headed back to get some much-needed sleep.
The next day, Percy awoke you with violent shakes, causing you to twist and groan with confusion.
“Get up. It’s like eight already. Don’t you have counselor activities to tend to too?” He said.
You shot up in a panic, staring down at the clock that read 8:03 a.m., almost 20 minutes after your morning duties. With an exasperated sigh, you slipped out of bed and rushed to grab a clean t-shirt from outside.
Still dazed, you grabbed a familiar shirt off the clothing line and rushed back inside, quickly changing in hopes of escaping Chiron’s anger for your unpunctuality.
While you happened to make it to breakfast on time, you failed to notice how unusually long the shirt was or how the tag on the back had the initials “L.C.” loosely scribbled on them. However, everyone else noticed your strange outfit.
“Whose shirt is that? Why is it so big?” Percy was immediately questioned as you sat down with your food tray in hand.
“What do you mean?" You asked, glancing back down at your lengthy attire, before realizing your mistake. “Oh! I spilled something on my only clean shirt, so I borrowed that old one from you. Sorry.” You salvaged, and others seem to believe you.
You made eye contact with Luke from across the table, growing flustered instantly due to the anxiety-inducing incident.
-
The third and final time might have been your fault, too. But by then, the two of you were fed up of keeping it secret.
-
“Awe, look at the little lovebirds!”
Clarisse voiced as she shakily pointed a digital camera towards Luke and you, who were engaged in your own conversation.
Gorgeous flowers blossomed around the couple, ranging in various colors and sizes. Laughs rang through the air as Chris, Clarisse, Luke, and you all hung out one hazy camp afternoon.
You looked up at the girl, smiling brightly as you twirled a pink flower in your palm. Grabbing Luke’s jaw with your soft, freshly manicured hands and turning his head to look in their direction, Chris pulled out a Polaroid camera, snapping a photo of the teens.
As the black picture slid out of the small box, Chris handed it to Clarisse, who shook it with force in order to see the image fully.
“Do you want me to take one of you two?” You asked, snatching the camera from Chris’s hands and pointing it towards them.
They posed, and the photo turned out super cute. You stared down at your frilly ruffle socks that stuck out of your high-top navy blue Converse. The toes of the shoes had been decorated with the signatures of all of your friends.
“It’s getting late; wanna head back?” Chris suggested the others let out a groan. He was right; they had camp duties to attend to, but being wrapped in their loved one’s embrace was so much more appealing.
You hopped up reluctantly, Luke grabbing your hand as you took the scenic route back to the cabins, the other couple straying a different way.
“I love going out with them.” You declared, breaking the silence and dramatically swinging your intertwined arms.
“Me too. It makes me feel like we’re just regular people.” He responded, smiling at her with such genuineness.
“Maybe in another universe.” You replied, sighing as you let out a light giggle.
“Speaking of which,” you continued. “Do you think we’re soulmates in every universe?”
“Duh. We’re probably Gwen and Spiderman in one.”
“Totally.” They grinned, enjoying the comfort they brought each other in the chaos that was their life.
After hours of training, you slipped back into Cabin 3, taking the photo out of your back pocket and placing it on your bed. You smiled at the sweet situation before Luke burst in, calling you to the bonfire. Obliviously, the Polaroid was left open on your bed, exposed to the world.
You basked in the warmth of Apollo’s kids songs, zoned out while mindlessly swaying to the beat of the guitar. Luke, who was sitting beside you, noticed you staring off into space and questioned it.
“Whatcha thinking about?”
“I wanna tell Percy about us.” You replied, looking into his eyes to detect his emotions. He seemed surprised at first, but his expression changed to one more supportive a few seconds later.
“I agree. I mean, he might try to literally drown me, but I hate lying to him.”
“Me too.” You finished, turning back to face the singer. However, you instead met eyes with a furious-looking Percy, holding a small black rectangle in his hands. Your heart stopped, and you leaped up to rush and explain, Luke following behind. The young blond stormed off in the other direction.
“Percy, please listen. We couldn’t tell you because we knew how you’d react. I know you’re protective and all, and I love that about you, but Luke's a good guy, and we both know that.” You started, praying to the gods that this would work out.
“I barely even know him!“ Percy lied straight through his teeth, trying to come up with a rational reason for his anger.
“Are you kidding? You’ve known him for a year now.” You sassed back.
“How long have you been dating?” He threw away his last point, knowing he had already lost that argument.
“Three months, I think.” You whispered out, ashamed.
“Three months, and you didn’t think to let me, your little brother, know?” He screamed, speed-walking back to his cabin, irritated.
You let out a sigh, facing Luke. Sadness coated your glossy eyes before seeping out onto your cheeks. Your boyfriend was quick to wipe the tears with his calloused thumb, comforting you.
“Hey, he’ll come around eventually. Let him sleep it off.” He whispered, embracing you in a tight hug. You buried your head into the crook of his neck, clamping your eyes shut.
As the sun rose the next morning and Percy stepped out of the cabin, you and Luke were waiting outside, prepared with a whole spiel about your relationship. To your astonishment, he greeted you with a smile and spoke up first.
“I’m sorry about last night. While I think this whole concept of you dating Luke is insane, he’s probably the best it’s going to get, so I approve.” You smiled back, a sigh of relief escaping your throat.
“And I’m sorry we didn’t tell you. It’s just-“
“Don’t. It’s fine, really. Just absolutely no PDA in front of me.” Percy stated, a look of disgust appeared as he said the last sentence. Both of you agreed to his simple terms.
“I’ve gotta go to the arena. I’ll see you later.” Luke declared, and you nodded, ruffling your fingers through his curls before he departed. Once he was a solid distance away, Percy leaned in and whispered to you.
“Really? Luke Castellan? That's the best you could do?”
#liv’s writing !#luke castellan x you#luke castellan fluff#luke castellan#luke castellan x reader#percy jackson#percy jackon and the olympians
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