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my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction · 10 months

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Infected

Miguel O'Hara X F!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info

Summary: An accident at one of Alchemax’s labs has led to Miguel being briefly contaminated with cA1m - a prototype drug that is meant to calm animals. However it seems to have a very different effect in humans.

A/N: A massive thank you to @midgardian-witch for reading the beginning of this (catching a hilarious typo), making some excellent suggestions, and reassuring me that I hadn’t just lost my mind completely (yet).

Reader doesn’t know Miguel’s spiderman.

Warnings: dubious consent - it’s basically a sex pollen fic, blood, hair pulling (can I write a fic without an Oscar Isaac character getting their hair pulled?), so much cum, hand job, oral (both m and f receiving), things get a little rough, face fucking, cum eating, biting, scratching, p in v sex, typos, please let me know if I’ve missed a warning!

Word Count: 5433

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“It’s mainly preliminary.” You said with a smile. “You weren’t in the room, but the filtration system links four of the labs.”

You check over Miguel’s notes, so far, he didn’t have any symptoms.

There had been an ‘accident’ in Lab B2, an accident that was being rapidly looked into. Lab B1, and B4 had been empty, but Miguel had been in B3.

Miguel was currently in a rapidly repurposed testing room, sitting on the bed with his shirt rolled up his forearms. His specific request for somewhere with reinforced walls, doors and windows had been… unusual. But he was a big guy, couldn’t hurt to be too careful.

“How are the others doing?” He asked with a slightly raised eyebrow.

“Okay,” you nodded. There had been eight people in Lab B2 when the container had broken. Two people, like Miguel, weren’t showing any symptoms.

The chemical compound, nicknamed cA1m, while liquid in its storage unit, turned to a gas at above zero degrees. Luckily it also denatured quickly, and there was a good chance that those who still weren’t showing symptoms were unaffected.

The chemical’s intention was for a more humane way to calm wild animals and livestock during veterinary checks. That way the animal in question didn’t need potentially dangerous anaesthetic for basic to mild level medical care.

It also wore off in 24 hours.

However, it still needed some work. And while early tests had gone well, apparently it did not have the desired effect in humans.

Four of the six infected had gone feral, absolutely crazy with rage, trying to kill and destroy everything and everyone within their reach.

Luckily no one had been severely injured before they had been tranquilised.

The other two were different, they had… other urges.

“Have you found any links as to why Doctor Guerrero and Doctor Vaughan didn’t react like the others?” Miguel asks. His voice was calm and controlled, like it always was. Politely interested, like he was listening to a presentation about your latest control data.

“Well, I have an idea. Though I haven’t fully proven it yet.”

He tilted his head to the side in a silent question. The action was endearing, it made your heart flutter and heat rise to your skin. And you hated it so, so much.

You smiled quickly and looked down, trying to cover the fact you’d been staring at him for a second too long.

“So,” you continued, drawing the word out a little to give you a pause of breathing room. “Both Guerrero and Vaughan are in relationships, both of them wanted to,” you pause for a moment, trying to find the most professional way to phrase it. “get to their partners. Unlike the others they also had a massively increased level of oxytocin.”

“Your theory is that that cA1m causes a berserk level of rage unless the subject is in love?” There was the smallest smirk on his lips.

It sounded stupid when he put it like that.

“Well… yes.” You fold your arms. “Look, Miguel,” he grinned when you said his name and you fought, and lost, the urge to smile back. “I’ve had fourteen hours and six people to base this off, plus three who are showing no symptoms. Give me a break, yeah?”

He held up his hands playfully. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You gave me a look.”

“What look?” He teased.

“I know you want to be trying to figure this out yourself, but you’re the one who insisted on not being allowed any breakable, or expensive, equipment while you’re in here.”

He smiled. “It’s true.” His gaze was heavy, crushing almost.

You shook your head and turned to the side table. “Anyway, are you gonna let me draw some blood or what?”

He nodded and held his arm out to you.

You know why you had been ‘nominated’ (begged) to be the one to see Miguel. He wasn’t the easiest CEO to work for in the sense that he was both physically and mentally intimidating, but what usually threw most people was that he was quiet, tended to watch and listen.

And he had a bit of resting bitch face.

But he was actually pretty pleasant to talk to when you got to know him.

You brushed your arm against his as you moved to get your equipment. Miguel audibly gasped.

A flash of worry pinched at your mind, you turned to look at him. “You okay?”

Miguel nodded; he was staring straight ahead at the wall. Obviously in distress.

“Miguel?” This wasn’t the same as those who had suddenly developed into a full-blown rage, but still you couldn’t help the sense of apprehension that crawled along your skin. You glanced at the sedative on the side table and shook your head.

“Miguel?” You spoke again, a little softer and moved a step closer towards him.

He shuddered at your voice, screwing his eyes up tightly. Sweat was beading on his forehead, heat rolling off him in waves.

“Miguel, I’m gonna-”

He moved faster than you could comprehend, one second he was sitting on the bed and the next he was looming over you, his hands clenched tightly around your biceps, and forcing you back.

You yelped as he pressed you into the wall, grabbing hold of his forearms.

His eyes were dark and wild, brimming with a terrifying energy.

“Miguel, wh-”

He crashed his lips into yours, swallowing down your words and slipping his tongue into your mouth frantically. It took you a fragment of a second to react, surprise freezing your limbs solid.

Miguel took your delay to his advantage, pushing his knee between your legs and pressing close. Not leaving a fraction of space between you as he devoured your mouth. Stealing your breath and igniting heat along your veins.

“Miguel,” you managed to push him back, the heels of your hands in his chest. This was the cA1m affecting him, it was the only explanation. Maybe the filtration system had diluted the chemical and caused a delayed reaction. “You need to-”

He snarled, his eyes pinpoint focused on you as he leaned forward and kissed you, hard. All tongue and sharp teeth as he wrapped his fingers around the back of your neck and gripped your thigh bruisingly tight, hitching it high on his hip.

You’d had dreams like this, fantasies, where he pinned you to the wall and kissed you until you couldn’t breathe. But you couldn’t do this, you couldn’t take advantage of him like this-

There was a sharp pinch of pain as Miguel sank his teeth into your bottom lip. You let out a small squeak of surprise, pulling away from him. And raised your hand to your mouth, your fingers coming back red.

Miguel, however, seemed unphased as he trailed kisses along your neck, smearing your blood along your skin. He ground his hips into yours, rocking back and forth and- oh god, he was big, just like the rest of him.

“Miguel, you need to,” you swallowed down a whimper as he sucked at your pulse point, just managing to resist the urge to hold him closer, to run your hands through his hair. “It’s the cA1m, you’re not thinking straight.”

He murmured something into your neck, his mouth not leaving your skin far enough for the words to be intelligible.

“Miguel-” You gasped as he nipped at your throat, not enough to break the skin this time.

Heat was burning from his skin, scorching into your body like you were too close to a flame.

You grabbed a fistful of his hair, yanking his head back a fraction too forcefully. You thought the brief pain might snap him out of it, give him a second of clarity. But as his chin tilted upwards, exposing his neck, he let out a long groan, his eyes squeezed shut.

It went straight to your core, your thighs clenching at the sound.

“Need you so bad, shit,” he rocked against you harder, pressing his length right up against your centre. “Always need you, you don’t understand,” he moaned and buried his head back into your neck, despite your grip on his hair, and sucked a love bite into your skin.

This time you couldn’t resist the urge. You sunk your fingers deeper, scratching your nails along his scalp and pulled him closer, pushing his face in your neck.

Miguel groaned appreciatively, digging his sharp nails into your shoulders. He nipped just below your ear, the keen, yet sweet little sting of pain blended with the slow and steady roll of his hips was simply tortuous. Almost enough to make you lose all common sense.

Almost.

You couldn’t do this, you couldn’t do this, you just couldn’t do this.

“Miguel-”

He whined as you said his name.

And you had to bite your lips together in order to hold onto your fading self respect.

“On the table,” you swallowed, trying to get your words out quickly, “there’s a sedative. It’ll help, it’ll-”

“You’ll help, being near you helps.” He mumbles, the words barely audible. He snakes his fingers along your ribs, just teasing the hem of your shirt.

“We just need to-oh!”

Miguel grabs hold of your shirt and pulls, ripping it open, buttons pinging off and going flying. Honestly, there’s less resistance from the material than you expected.

And then he's everywhere, his face buried in your chest, kissing the tops of your breasts as his fingers pinch at your nipples through the thin fabric of your bra.

You can't stop the moan of surprise that escapes your lips as you arch into his touch.

You had to stop this, now. Before he did something you'd very much enjoy and he'd very much regret.

"Fuck," you hiss under your breath and act quickly, trying not to overthink and get yourself caught up.

Maybe if he… had some relief you could grab the sedative in the afterglow. Hell, maybe he wouldn't even need the sedative if he came once.

Before you can lose your nerve you quickly unbuckled his trousers and managed to squeeze your hand under the material despite Miguel's frenzied mind trying to keep the physical space separating you both to a minimum.

He gasps as you touch him, letting out a choked sob that your brain was already committing to memory and filing under 'for use later'.

The velvety soft skin was rock hard and burning hot against your hand. So big that you couldn't even get your fingers fully round his girth.

"Please." He muttered, pressing his forehead against yours, his hands resting tightly on your waist.

His eyes were screwed shut, his mouth slightly open and when you moved your hand, the smallest upwards movement. He let out the sweetest sigh.

You bite your lip and wince as you catch the broken skin, but it doesn’t stop you from tracing your thumb over the tip of him, smearing precome along the head. You were trying to be quick, methodical, clinical, as you began to stroke him, setting an even pace. This was just a problem to solve. You should not be enjoying this.

But every glide of your hand, every touch, made Miguel gasp and moan as if it was the first time he’d ever experienced such sensations, made him bite his lip with his sharp (had they always been that sharp?) teeth, and it was intoxicating.

He pistoned his hips into your touch, thrusting faster and faster, and practically growling as he grew closer to his release.

You couldn’t help but watch him, enraptured, as heat pooled in your lower stomach, your own need growing. But this wasn’t about you.

Still, you couldn’t help yourself rocking back and forth against his leg ever so slightly to just take the edge off.

Miguel grunted, his eyes rolling back in his head, and there was a sharp pinch of pain as he tightened his grip on your waist, his nails digging in much harder than they surely should have been able to.

He swore under his breath as he cums, twitching under your touch, and coating your hand and stomach with his release.

There’s so much of it, far more than there should be as he cums and cums, gasping for air. Another side effect of the cA1m - perhaps you’d be annoyed as his release soaks into your ruined shirt if the sight of him reaching his peak wasn’t exhilarating.

You let go of him quickly, managing to disentangle yourself from him, despite Miguel low, exhausted whine of protest.

God, how were you going to get a new shirt without running into someone? And, you realised, probably a new pair of trousers too. Miguel’s spend had run down and soaked into the left side.

You grabbed the sedative from the side table. Your mind already racing, it wasn’t Miguel’s fault but would he remember? Would he be awkward with you now? Would your little chats and jokes stop? You swallowed down a pang of fear and turned. Now wasn’t the time for what ifs you-

Miguel grabbed your arms and you squeaked in surprise. How could he move so silently? His eyes were dark, hooded with lust, his trousers just hanging from his hips and… well, obviously so much for the idea that him cumming once would be enough.

“I need you.” He growled, his voice so low that you almost felt light headed. “I know you want me too, I can smell it.” He leaned forward scraping his teeth over your pulse point, and for a shameful moment you let yourself get caught up again, allowed yourself to revel in the sensation for the smallest second.

While he was distracted you pushed the needle into his upper arm, through his shirt, and injected the sedative.

It shouldn't take long.

He growled, pulling his mouth away from your neck to stare dangerously into your eyes.

You swallowed. A spike of fear dug into the base of your skull, some ancient urge telling you to run.

“It’s okay,” you said soothingly, unsure if you were really talking to Miguel or yourself. “It’s just the sedative.” You pulled the needle out of his arm. “You’ll be fine, let’s lay you down so-”

He kissed you hungrily, harsh and demanding as he forced his tongue into your mouth.

You allowed yourself to kiss him back the smallest amount as you waited for the sedative to work.

And waited… And waited…

Oh, no, just no, this wasn’t right, this couldn’t be right. There was more than enough in the injection to knock him out and yet he didn’t show any signs of slowing down.

Okay, so, this definitely wasn’t how it went with the others.

You side step, trying to twist past him and break his hold all in one movement. Maybe you could get to the door, maybe you could do… something. Your mind raced, there had to be a way to fix this, to help him, to be useful.

The side step didn’t work, Miguel’s grip was too tight, and you stumbled, skidding around and to your knees. The edge of the bed thumped into your back.

You gasp, gulp and stare up at him. That spike of fear dragging itself down your spine.

He growls and moves closer, his length bobbing and perfectly at your eye level. His gaze is dark and desperate, his bottom lip pinched between his teeth. You could see his pulse thundering in his neck, echoing along the length of his dick.

Rapid heartbeat was one of the side effects all the others had experienced, the sedative being the only thing that had managed to return it to a normaler level.

Maybe there was only one way you could be useful.

Miguel shifts his weight, preparing to move, but you lean forward first and run your tongue along the length of him.

A deep moan rumbles in his chest as you touch him, a gasp of breath. The sound floods heat to your core.

You wrap your lips around the tip, grabbing hold of his hips to pull him closer as you swallow as much of him as you can. You bob your head, encouraging him to move with you and there is a moment where you can feel the tension in his muscles, the strain in his thighs as he tries to hold back, to keep himself in check.

It doesn’t last long.

He snarls and thrusts forward, snapping his hips and nearly choking you. You splutter, trying to breathe through your nose but Miguel doesn’t give you a second to recover. He pushes forward, the back of your head slamming against the edge of the bed as he plunges deeper and deeper into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat with ease and still not even half way in.

Your grip on his hips tightens and you don’t know if you’re trying to pull him away or urging him on.

It burns, the size of him makes your jaw ache, tears roll down the sides of your cheeks from the force of his relentless thrusts.

His hands dig into the mattress by the side of you head, tearing into the fabric as he pounds into you, fucking your mouth with everything he’s got.

He groans, “yes, baby, yes,” his voice low and barely distinguishable as words.

You do your best to just hold on, to breathe and take as much as you can. The sounds of his moans filling your ears and mind, and god, how you wished you didn’t have a gag reflex and could take him deeper.

He keeps ramming into your mouth, snapping his hips against you with a frenzied energy and you push against his lower back, silently begging him to keep going.

Your neck throbs from discomfort, bruising forming where the skin is repeatedly hitting against the hard outline of the bed frame. Your knees burn from where they continuously rub against the floor with every buck and thrust.

Miguel lets out a short, animalistic cry as he cums down your throat suddenly. You moan against him, trying to swallow all of it but there’s just so, so much. It spills out of the side of your mouth and down your chin despite your best efforts.

He leans forward, breathing hard, his cock still in your mouth. And for a second you think this is it, the sedative will take hold or maybe this mindless lust has come to an end.

But he’s still hard when he pulls himself out of your mouth, his eyes still glazed over with the same madness when he looks down at you. He runs his hand over your chin, the pads of his fingers slightly sharp, and collects some of his spend that hasn’t trickled down your neck and onto your torn shirt and bra. Another item of clothing you’d need to change.

He smears his cum along your cheek, the movement possessive, like he was marking his territory.

There’s a pause, the lull in the eye of the storm before he pulls you up from the ground with a shocking display of strength, moving as if you were no heavier than a glass of water he was eager to drink down.

You can’t help the little yelp of surprise that escapes you as he practically throws you onto the bed, your back hitting the mattress and momentarily knocking the air out of your lungs.

But then he’s on top of you, pressing himself firmly between your legs as he growls and snaps his teeth close to your neck. He bites at your throat, hard enough to break the skin and you cry out as the pain quickly disappears into pleasure.

Your mewls only make his actions more frenzied as he tears your clothes completely off you with a speed that makes your head spin, before removing his own. The material rips so easily, as if he used a blade.

He runs his tongue along your chest, messily cleaning up the cum he’d spilt along you just moments before.

“Miguel-” You try to start, but then his mouth is back on yours, tasting like salt and iron as he drinks down your words to leave you breathless.

You gasp as he breaks away, trailing sloppy kisses down your body, his fingers running over your skin and leaving scratches. He bites your hip partially deeply and you keen, arching up into him as he moans.

“Your so fucking sweet.” He mutters before kissing lower and lower and, oh god. You nearly scream as his lips wrap around your clit and he sucks hard. Pleasure coils tight in your belly as a new wave of wetness leaks out and soaks into the torn up sheets beneath you.

His fingers dig into your thighs as he pushes his face into you, only breaking away so that he can lick through your folds hungrily, devouring you like a starving animal.

“Miguel!” You whine, letting out a series of high pitch moans that sound alien even to your own ears.

He sucks your clit once more, his teeth just grazing across it before he snarls and pulls away, pushing the back of your thighs and pressing them against your chest with a crushing strength.

You struggle to take a breath, barely filling your lungs before he’s thrusting into you with a guttural groan and a sharp snap of his hips.

The size of him hurts, it’s too much, too fast and you gasp in pain. You clench your jaw, your eyes screwing up as your hands fly to his shoulders, trying to push him back even though you know it’s no use against his strength.

But he stops instantly, stilling his movements.

You stare up at him in surprise. His eyes are still dark but there’s something else there, something pushing through that lust haze.

“Pain?” He whispers, sounding the most like his old self that he has since this ordeal began.

You swallow and nod, tears building at the corners of your eyes.

He slowly loosens his grip around your thighs, letting go shakily as if it is taking a lot of self control to do so. And while he doesn’t pull out, he doesn’t thrust in deeper either.

Carefully, he manoeuvres your legs down onto the bed either side of him, watching your face for any sign of increased discomfort. It’s only then that he looks down to where you’re joined, completely split open with only a quarter of his length inside.

He groans lows and you brace yourself for a brutal thrust that never comes. Instead he keeps his hips still as he slowly trails his sharp nails down your stomach, teasing the very edge of your clit before pressing his thumb against it fully.

A small moan escapes you and you clench down instinctively. Miguel hums in approval and starts to slowly circle the bundle of nerves, the touch light and soft as he just borders on the edge of losing control.

The pain starts to dissipate quickly, replaced with a steady continuous build of that deep need from before. You start to squirm. The pressure of his thumb isn’t enough and you rock your hips ever so slightly, your breathing hitching in your throat.

"More?" He whispers.

You nod your head rapidly.

“Thank god.” Miguel sighs, the words mumbled like a prayer almost too quietly for you to hear, and lets some of his weakening control slip.

Slowly he pushes further in, the tension shaking in his thighs as he fights with every instinct to pound you into the mattress and turn you into a crying mess beneath him.

He keeps circling your clit, groaning as feels a fresh wave of wetness leaking out of you.

You moan, grabbing hold of his shoulders. But this time you pull him towards you, urging him deeper. God, he’s big. Already it’s like you can feel him in your throat.

The stretch burns, but it’s good, it feels right. Like he is going to reach a whole new devastating part of you. Make you cum so hard that he’ll ruin any other sexual partner for good.

You hook your left leg on his hip and squeeze your calf over his lower back, encouraging him closer, deeper. While you plant your right foot firmly against the bed to rock up against him.

Miguel groans, his eyes closed. His movements on your clit falter as he slides further in.

There’s a sharp pain in your hip where his left hand holds you tight, his nails (it had to be his nails) dug in so deep that they broke your skin.

You let out a soft whine, clenching around his girth as he presses up against you perfectly and still pushes further in. The pleasure in your stomach tightening and starting to completely overwhelm all other thoughts, urging you to just chase your release.

Tears prick again at the corners of your eyes, a soft emotion beating hard in your chest. And you can’t help yourself, you grab hold of the back of Miguel’s neck, pulling him down towards you and arching up at the same time to kiss him hungrily.

He moans into your mouth, pushing back against you and forcing you into the mattress. His hips snap forward, finally sheathing himself completely in your tight, wet heat.

For a moment it’s like you can’t breathe, so completely full that not even air can enter.

Miguel stills, giving you a moment to adjust as he licks into your mouth and groans as your walls squeeze around his length. His pubis bone presses firmly against your clit, and you can feel the echo of his racing heart beat along his skin.

He breaks the kiss to breathe hard, his eyes closed and forehead pressed against yours. “I can’t… I need to…”

“Please,” you answer desperately, kissing him softly as you start to rock your hips ever so slightly.

Miguel lets out a whine, his eyebrows pinched together in bliss and the expression alone is nearly enough to make you cum on the spot.

“Can’t stop,” he mutters and you're not even sure if he’s aware of what he’s saying anymore as he grabs your wrists in either of his hands and pins them to the bed. “Feels so…” He ruts into you, pulling out so that just the tip of his cock stays inside before slamming back into you. “Fuck. So. Fucking. Tight.”

You wail under him as pleasure runs up your spine and down your legs as he punctuates every thrust with an upwards rock of his hips, continuously rubbing against your clit and pressing the head of his length to that perfect spot inside.

“So. Fucking. Wet.” He growls. His nails are slicing into your wrists, but you don’t care. Can’t care, you’ve lost all ability to feel anything but the glide of his cock and the heady build of your orgasm.

“So. Mine.” He growls and bites down hard on your neck. You cry out, the brutal pace of his hips only increasing, bringing you closer and closer and-

You gasp, his name catching in your throat as you finally cum. Every muscle shaking as it crashes over you in waves.

Miguel tears his mouth away from your neck, blood shining on his lips as he watches you come undone. He moans, his thrusts not faltering for a second.

“That’s it, cum all over me,” he glances down for a moment watching himself disappearing into you, amazed at how well you’re taking him, how tightly your walls are griping him, trying to milk him for all he’s worth. “Squeezing me so tight, oh shit-”

He cums loudly, still pistoning in and out of you as he fills you up with his release. There’s still so much of it, some leaks out, spilling out of your abused hole and sticking to your thighs.

You breathe deeply, your mind foggy from how hard you came. Your legs ache from being stretched so wide, your pussy throbs from overstimulation.

Miguel doesn’t stop, still rock hard and trusting. Pushing his cum deeper into you.

“Miguel,” you whine, your throat raw.

“I can’t-” he bites his lip, “I can’t stop, I need to, fuck, please, I need to-”

You kiss his neck, biting harder than you normally would at his jugular. He whines, the sound going straight to your core. Heat starts to build again.

“Keep going,” you mutter against his skin. “Keep going as long as you need to.”

You wake up sore and sticky. Aching and in pain. Even the slightest movement brings out an array of discomfort. Every muscle throbs, like you had done a year's worth of exercise in one day, and all the bites and scratches sting as you shift, the scrapes making you feel like someone had tossed you naked into a bush of brambles and thorns.

It takes you a moment to remember where you are, the tiredness in your bones trying to coax you back to sleep.

“I’m sorry.”

Miguel’s voice makes you jump. He’s still close to you, laying on his side with his chest pressed up against your back. One arm around your waist. There’s tension there, you know he wants to move away but is scared to move at the same time.

His cock is pressed against your backside, soft and sated.

You turn to look at him, too tired to worry about your nakedness. Besides, he had seen plenty of it anyway.

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”

He scoffs. His mouth pressed into a thin line as he looks down.

It’s only then as you turn around completely to look at him that you see tears in his eyes. “Miguel?”

You softly touch his cheek but he flinches away from you. The action spikes through your heart. He can’t even look at you now.

“I’ve got everything to be sorry for, I, I took advantage of you, I rap-”

“No, no, no, no,” you can’t help but touch him again, putting your hand back on his cheek and rubbing your thumb soothingly across his skin.

This time he leans into it, letting out the smallest, shaky breath.

“You were infected, Miguel, you couldn’t control yourself. I don’t know how much you remember but the sedative didn’t work, and your heart rate was just, I mean, it was crazy high. And, if anything, I was the one that took advantage of you and-”

His eyes snap open. “You? You took advantage of me?” He says disbelievingly. “Look at you.” He touches the bite marks on your neck gently.

You give him a little smile. “I don’t mind.”

He breathes out another shaky breath, but there’s a hint of a smile. “You don’t mind?”

You shake your head. “Happy to help.”

He chuckles a little at that and nods as he runs a hand through his hair.

There’s a pause, a silence that you can’t stand.

“I guess I was wrong.”

Miguel frowns a little, confused.

“My theory, about people having that reaction if they’re in love, I mean.”

There’s a pause, the only sound a little gulp as Miguel swallows. Something passes over his face for a second, a faint trace of heat rising to his skin.

Oh. Maybe you weren’t wrong.

“Miguel?”

He breathes deeply, looking down. “I-”

You don’t give him a chance to finish, letting your adrenaline overwhelm you as you quickly lean forward and press your lips to his. Hoping against hope that you weren’t misreading the situation.

He’s caught by surprise for a moment, but moans happily and softly kisses you back as his arm wraps around you and pulls you close.

The kiss is slow and gentle, languid and sweet. It makes your stomach drop like you were falling from a great height. His embrace the only thing keeping you safe.

He runs his tongue over your bottom lip lightly, careful of the cuts, but licks into your mouth hungrily the second you part your lips. It’s not the same lustful need from before, this is deeper, sharper and desperate in a different way. As if after devouring your body he now needed to devour your soul.

He kisses you again, lightly before you both pull back for a second. He grins at you, a little shyly and you smile as you stroke his cheek.

“You weren’t wrong.” He muttered.

You frown and shake your head, confused.

He chuckles and kisses you again. “Your theory about love.”

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Thank you for reading!

@pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt @cocodiem @oscarisaacsspit @whatthefishh @mbakubabe @solobagginses @romanarose @saturn-rings-writes

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atinystaypixie · 3 months

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Lesson of Rejection

Summary: You are a princess, and as a princess, you don't take rejection well. When your top guard does reject you, its only natural you teach him a lesson.

WC: 2.5k+

CW: 18+, MDNI!!, gang bang, spit roasting, unimplied unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, especially in these situations), cumming in pants, oral (m&f receiving), bondage, public (ish) setting

Requested by: @princeasimdiya12 thank you for waiting luv!

Nanami is a well respected man. Every subordinate looks up to him, all fellow guards admire his strength, and no one is trusted like him. Your father adores him and is the only man he allows to be close to you.

He is always close to you, watching you, and if you look close enough, admiring you. In the comfort of your room of the large palace, you wear minimal clothing and his eyes will occasionally scan the enticing skin of your body. You are a smart girl, and can clearly sense when a man is interested in you. Especially when the well reserved man is caught with the tips of his ears turning red from helping you undress.

You had stormed to your room in a fit of anger after the meeting with your father and your supposed future husband. The man he introduced to you made your skin crawl. A creepy smile, weird stitches across his forehead, and such a disgusting way of talking down on others. But for some reason, your dad couldn’t stop praising him.

“I mean how could he?! He didn’t even ask if that’s what I wanted! Marry THAT man? That disgusting man? How dare he?!” You exclaim stomping around your room and throwing your jewelry about. He told you to come your best dressed and you took your precious time getting all pretty just to be met with this bullshit.

“Don’t just stand there! Help me get this off!” You directed your anger towards Nanami. He understood you were upset, so he didn’t take offense to you raising your voice at him. Usually the maids would help you with this task, but in your fit of rage you told no one to enter your room and that meant only Nanami would be near you. He always is there with an open ear when you go on tangents.

“He’s just marrying me off like some kind of property! Am I not human?” His callous fingers work the laced up ribbons undone. Your dress slipping off your body leaving your backside completely exposed to him. The panties and bra leaving little skin covered. His mind wanted to be respectful and look away, but his eyes stared longer than what could be considered an accident.

“I will not-,” you stop ranting as you turn around. He’s closer than expected and his eyes are hooded. It’s not for long and he quickly changes back to his professional poker face, but it was long enough for you to catch. He turns his head giving you the view of his ears. You suppress a smile and go back to blowing up about your father. Tonight’s events aren’t even a worry anymore, it’s being exposed and forcing Nanami to stay in close proximity for as long as possible.

For at least ten more minutes, Nanami was forced to endure your nearly bare figure strutting around. Your words go in one ear and out the other. His eyes were doing the best to not land on you, but you were making it difficult by making sure to stay in his line of sight. You finally stop dramatically in front of him. The jiggle of your breasts catch his lowered eyes.

“Nanamins, I refuse to be given to that man. He’s not even my type.” Your voice is lowered and dripping with seduction. A well manicured finger pressing against his firm chest through his clothes. It was fine until you started dragging your finger lower at the end of your sentence.

Any other man would have folded right at that moment, any other man would have gone in for a kiss, but Nanami was not any other man. His hand wraps around your wrist halting your actions.

“Miss. I am afraid you are extremely frustrated. It is best if you get some rest. Have a good night.” He gently releases his grip and turns on his hills. This did not sit easy with you. Yes, you were teasing the man and didn’t truly expect for things to go far, but the fact he completely just rejected and left you? That was not going to fly over well.

Nanami didn’t release the effect his actions had. He didn’t realize the fire pit that being professional and sticking to his duties had thrown him in.

It wasn’t until he found himself in the current predicament that he released just how bad you didn’t like being told no.

He entered the training room with powerful strides as usual. You had ordered a special session and without question he showed up along with the other higher ranked guards. He was informed on the information while having tea with you. You were close to him and would often ask him to drink with you. It wasn’t as if he could truly refuse, he was your personal guard and would have to be in close proximity while following every order anyways.

“Today, I would like to do something different.” Your head held high and you spoke to your guards. Nanami internally raised an eyebrow, his curiosity never playing across his face. He knew something was completely awry when you ordered each of them that this session would be kept from your father. “With this session, I want to practice, how should I say,” you do a humming sound of thought, “rejecting.” A smile etches onto your face. The word spikes Nanami’s attention. He was top guard for a reason and his wit was a part of that reason. Unease wasn’t an emotion he felt often, but after the events of the other night, he couldn’t help but feel as if that night and this session tied together.

“Yuki,” you call to the female guard who acts like more of an assistant than anything to you. “Pass me what I asked you to bring.” There is a silk covering on what appears to be a cart. “Gojo,” this time your attention is directed towards the tall, white-haired guard, “take off your pants.” If his eyes weren’t covered, they would be seen popping wide before relaxing again.

Gojo couldn’t say he quite understood the command, but either way he liked where this was going. It was no secret that most, if not all, the guards had an attraction to you. So if you commanded the man to take his pants off, he would gladly do it for you. He was almost too eager, making you swallow a scoff. Your deviant eyes flicked to Nanami and he was still standing straight and at attention without a noticeable shift in demeanor. He wouldn’t be like that long.

A series of orders were thrown out. The guards moved quickly and swiftly as each had a separate one directed towards them. In all their time of training, in all their time of serving, none of them expected to ever be in this situation.

Gojo and Sukuna stuff you full as Nanami is tied with his hands behind his back. His cock straining against his pants as he watched your pussy wrap around Gojo’s dick and your pretty lips soak in your own spit as Sukuna fucks into your throat. You knew that Nanami was suffering, and suffering badly at that. The tea you had him drink this morning had more than sugar added to it.

“Such a slut, Princess.” Gojo spoke, still pistoning his hips forward aiming to reach the deepest pits of your insides. The squelching of your pussy sounds every time his hips connect to your ass, skin to skin filling the room. At this point your eyes were glazed over and sweat was coating your skin. Any moan you had was immediately caught by Sukuna’s dick, turning into gurgles.

Your ears perk at the deep whine that just graced them. Despite having two cocks filling you, your senses immediately clear and your eyes snap to the blonde haired man. His eyebrows tightly scrunched, chest rising and falling heavily, and a red tint to his cheeks. The moans leaving you turn into a choked laugh.

Sukuna groans when he feels your hand push at his hips, removing him from your mouth. “Nanami, was there something you wanted to say?” Your neat eyebrow raises as your hand wraps around the long dick in front of you, your tongue swirling around the tip as you hold eye contact with the restrained man.

“-ease” his words are breathy and low. His body is in so much need of even the simplest touch that he can barely speak.

“Speak up.”

“Please…please, Miss.” The hips that were once rocking into yours stops, Sukuna’s focus is no longer on your plump lips, and Yuki’s face is showing clear shock. They had never heard Nanami sound so needy, so submissive. Their head guard speaking without the normal command in his voice threw all of them off and they didn’t know what to do. “Please, I need relief,” he begged.

“Hmm…,” a heavy pause weighs in the room, “no. We’re working on rejection, remember? I know you are all too familiar with it.” A smirk plays on your lips as you signal Gojo and Sukuna to get back to work. Their egos boosting from getting to fuck into you while the one man who has infinite access to you suffers.

Your walls squeeze around Gojo making his head fall back and eyes clamp shut, “fuck! Princess, if you keep doing that I won’t be able to hold it.”

You release Sukuna with a pop, “go on. I’m not stopping you,” is all you say before going back to sucking. That’s all he needs to feel his balls tightening and dick twitching. He hurriedly pulls out of you and covers your pussy in his seed. The white substance landing on your puffy clit and pussy lips. He lets out deep moans and grunts as he strokes all of his cum onto your cunt.

Sukuna wasn’t far behind, your mouth was so warm and wet around him and it didn’t help that your hand was stroking the parts of him that you couldn’t fit. Your tongue running over his sensitive tip at just the right times had him in the same position Gojo was in moments ago. His eyes were clamping shut and his lips were parted releasing moans.

“Princess, I am close. Please.” He said in broken breaths. The hum you did around his dick letting him know that he could sent him over the edge. His abdomen clenched as he released his seed on your tongue.

Nanami couldn’t take seeing two men release their seed onto you. He was on the verge of cumming without even being touched. Although his skin was hot and his dick was angrily throbbing, he noticed that you hadn’t come. But he didn’t need to say it, because you were already getting up and walking over to him on shaky legs. You grabbed his chin and made him look up at you.

“Look at you,” you scoffed. “Clean me up.” He felt your fingers grip the locks of his hair and before he can say anything, your cum covered pussy meets his lips. If he was in his right state of mind he would have immediately resisted, but he wasn’t. Your clit hitting his nose and his tongue greeting your used hole had an animalistic moan rising out of his chest. He couldn’t bring himself to care that he had to clear another man's seed to get the full taste of your pussy, his body was in so much need that even sniffing your used cunt was making him spiral more.

“Good fucking boy,” you bit your lip as your eyes stayed focused on him. The view was perfect. Your legs widen and his face directly between them as you humped on his face. He was licking at your cunt like a starved man, his tongue lapping up your slit and catching your clit before pushing back into your hole. Gojo and Sukuna might have just got done using you, but Nanami’s tongue was making your body weak. He was making sure to catch every drop of your juices and the pleasure you were feeling was obvious from the way you were moaning. Your moans making the two already spent men feel their dicks start twitching again.

You felt the coil in your stomach getting ready to pop. Your fingers gripping tighter at the blonde strands between them and your hips bucking with more aggression.

Without warning, you cum in Nanami’s mouth. The taste of your release making his dick immediately spurt cum into his pants. His body was shaking while whimpers and moans fell from his lips. His hand rested against your thigh as he caught his breath.

The laugh you let out as you moved his head from your thigh was condescending. You lower to in front of him and unzip his pants reaching your hand in. “You came in your pants,” you stroke his sensitive dick causing another whine to come from him before pulling your hand back out. “I mean look! You made such a mess and I didn’t even touch your dick!” Another laugh left you, off to the side small chuckles could be heard from Sukuna and Gojo.

Your laughs die down and you lean close to his ear and whisper, “the next time you reject me, I won’t be so nice.” You pull away and wrap your cum covered hand around his chin, “thank Nanami for today’s session. Clean up and continue with the day,” you look at Nanami again, “except you. Stay like this, cum soaked pants and everything for the rest of the day.” You gather a robe off of the cart you ordered Yuki to bring you earlier and exit the room.

In passing later, you see that the guards have all returned to their fixed attires and two especially have wide grins on their face. As Nanami returns to you, you see he has done as you asked. The proof being the clear stain at the front of his pants.

“Miss, I am sorry for rejecting you and I have reflected, but could you please allow me to change so I may look appropriate in appearance.”

Your answer comes quickly and without a bat of the eye, “no. Everyone feels the need to tell me what’s going to happen despite my wishes lately. I don’t like it, so in a start to correcting it, you’ll stay like this until the end of the day.” He didn’t protest or speak further after that, he knew it would only make it worse. In any other situation he would have tried to talk you down, but he had suffered enough embarrassment of the day. Before returning to you, Gojo, Sukuna, and Yuki had their fun mocking him. It wouldn’t be the end of it either because he still had a training session to lead later on in the day.

But Nanami was the head guard for a reason, he was the guard entrusted to be close to you for a reason. He couldn’t be deemed the top guard if he didn’t realize the tea he had with you countless times before tastes different. A small aftertaste and the heating of his blood gave away all he needed to know. The guards may have something to mock him about now, but they won’t be the ones inside of your tight pussy for many nights to come, nor will they be the reason your pending marriage will fail.

✨

Thoughts of a Slutty Virgin ~ 🧚🏾‍♀️

Whew it has been a while! This was requested so long ago and I really am thankful for the patience. I will continue to work on the requests that I have yet to put out. PIXIE'S BACK!

ENJOY! Reblog, like, and comment💜

Pixie's Masterlist

Taglist: @444ghosty @un-lawliet @tophamhat-kyo @nobianna @viisgrave

Wanna join my taglist?

Purple dividers at the top made by me. Pictures used are not mine. Support banner made by @/cafekitsune.

#jjk smut #jujustu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk #nanami smut #nanami kento smut #anime smut #gojo smut #gojo saturo smut #sukuna smut #ryomen sukuna smut

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mariasont · 19 days

Note

Hello baby borl can you write a spencer reid x reader where they are kind of awkward but they still are relatively outgoing but they never EVER make the first move so they just vaguely flirt with him but very awkwardly like... maybe they have an obscure favorite animal and they tell him about it and then they compare him to it and its funny bc its like.. a slug or a spider (an animal that many ppl dont like and dont find attractive)

Arachnophobia - S.R

a/n: i dont know if baby borl was a misspelling or not but i am obsessed with it and i will now be referring to everyone as that from this point forward

ALSO thank you so much for the request i <3 an awkward reader truly

masterlist

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: spencer reid x reader

warnings: spider! ah!, reader climbing on a chair like that's a little dramatic if you ask me, spencer being a little shit, fluffy fluff, cuties being awkward, comparing spencer to a female spider!

wc: 0.9k

"Oh my god!"

You didn't mean for your scream to be as loud as it was, it was more instinctive than anything, not having enough time to stifle it as you hopped upon the closest desk chair. Unfortunately for you, that chair happened to belong to the object of your affection—Spencer Reid, resident boy genius and pretty boy.

Pretty boy was the understatement of the century. He was the embodiment of aesthetic perfection in your eyes, a vision of loveliness that seemed almost otherworldly.

But that all receded to the edges of your brain, your gaze laser focused on the teeny tiny crawler scuttling across the carpeted floor beneath you.

"Is there a reason you're standing on my chair?"

Spencer's eyes were trained on your shoes, a frown forming as he undoubtedly considered the microbial invasion spreading from your soles to his well-maintained seat.

You couldn't say anything, mouth snapped shut as you just pointed to the hairy thing. He quirked an eyebrow, following your gesture before a soft chuckle escaped him, head shaking in the process.

You narrowed your eyes, not finding the same humor in the situation as he was. "Spencer, it's not funny. Get it please?"

"Well since you asked so nicely." He moved towards a box of tissues on his desk. But you grasped his wrist to stop him, your balance faltering, and a tiny squeal escaped you as you teetered on the edge of the chair.

His hold on your hip was immediate, the closest thing in order to stabilize you is how you rationalized it, saving you from an imminent face-to-floor meeting.

"Sorry," you said sheepishly, a low buzz spreading from your head to the spot where his hand enclosed around. "Don't kill it."

He gave you a pointed look, but then grabbed a plastic cup by the water cooler. You missed his hands on you the second he was gone.

He crouched down to where the spider was crawling around, carefully shoveling it into the cup.

"Don't hurt its legs!"

"I feel like there is a lot of protesting coming from someone who can't even put their feet on the ground right now."

That shut you up. A soft pout found its way to your lips as you folded your arms defensively. His smirk grew at the sight, and you couldn't stop the delightful warmth that bubbled up inside your chest, sticky and potent.

"Once the spider is at a safe distance then I'll come down," you said with a shrug.

He expertly secured the paper over the clear cup's mouth, trapping the spider inside. "All clear."

You watched his hands warily, your lips forming a tight line as you stayed put, eliciting an exasperated eye roll from him.

"It's not going to hurt you."

"You don't know that."

He angled the cup towards the light, inspecting the bug with a squint.

"It's unlikely you'll ever be bitten by a spider. They aren't interested in humans. They don't seek us out like mosquitoes or ticks do." He moved the cup in your direction. "This is just a common house spider, known scientifically as Parasteatoda tepidariorum. Completely harmless."

"It doesn't look completely harmless to me," you countered, wrinkling your nose and leaning back.

You almost lost your balance. Again. His hands found your waist. Again.

"How about you come down now?"

"Right, sorry I know you're probably freaking out about my outdoor shoes on your chair."

His hand moved to grab yours as you stepped down. "I'm more concerned about the potential of you cracking your skull."

You beamed, a wide smile lighting up your features as you planted your feet firmly on the carpet. "Eh, I'm pretty much indestructible."

"Tell that to the spider."

You tried to glare at him, but you were sure it came off softer around than edges than you intended, because you weren't really annoyed. Spencer's ease in teasing you was a recent development, it had taken ages to get to this point. The roles used to be reserved, but then you fell in love with him, and now every word you spoke had been nothing but overthought and stiff.

"He is a little cute actually." You stepped closer, gingerly at that, maintaining a safe distance just in case Spencer decided to pull any funny business.

"Well, he's a she."

"Oh, how impolite of me," you said, as you crouched down to bring yourself face-to-face with the spider.

"Interestingly, the female common house spiders are known for its problem-solving abilities when capturing prey. If the first attempt doesn't work, it will try different strategies, which shows a level of adaptability and intelligence."

"Awh, she's kind of like you, isn't she?"

You wanted to slap a hand over your face. You sounded like an idiot. His eyes narrowed, and then that charming little smile broke through, a little uneven, making him all the more appealing.

"That feels offensive."

You couldn't help but laugh, your eyes crinkling in response. "It's not, I swear, that was supposed to be a compliment."

"I'd be careful with those compliments, wouldn't want to inflate my ego too much."

Maybe tomorrow you'd tell him how you feel. Probably not.

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x awkward reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fic #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x you

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homely-lunatic · 7 months

Text

one of the things I think is rly interesting about the usher kids' deaths is that there's a clear linear pattern in how much influence verna has on the way they die, starting with virtually no influence and ending in a death 100% orchestrated by her.

like okay. perry's death? completely his fault. the only influence we see verna have on him is in her attempts at convincing him to call off the party and not blackmail people. the acid was already in the tanks, he made the negligent decision to hook up the tanks to the water system without testing them. if he'd never met verna, the party would have gone on exactly as planned and he would have died via acid rain anyways.

then there's camille. her death is similar to perry's in that there's a clear cause -> effect of her breaking into a lab full of chimps hyped up on adrenaline -> being mauled by a chimp, but there's also little hints at verna's interference. camille talks to verna right before she dies, its implied via the photo she takes that the chimp that killed her appeared to her as verna for a moment, and there's also the question of how the chimp got out in the first place. yes she probably would have died in this manner anyways based on her own decisions, but there's slightly more of a direct influence from verna than perry got.

with leo, we know that him initially killing pluto was a hallucination thanks to his drug use, but I get the impression that everything that follows is a blend of verna messing with him and further drug-induced hallucinations. the pet store he visits is actually an abandoned building full of rats that verna alters his perception of, and his visions of her in his apartment definitely feel more verna-induced than drug-induced, yet there's also kind of the implication that all the stuff with the hammer leading up to leo's death is drug hallucination-related. we also see verna appear to him multiple times; she's not just a single mysterious figure at a party or a lone security guard, she's now running a store and coming to his house and talking to him on multiple occasions.

vic is similar to leo in that her death is caused by a slow descent into madness, but the way in which this plays out is directly caused by verna. yes vic was planning on going forward with human trials, but verna is the one who shows up and poses as a test subject. there's still ambiguity when it fully comes to the question of supernatural influence, and verna's insertion into vic's life was more specific than leo's but also broad enough that its reasonable to argue that things might have played out the same had she not been there. would everything with ally dying and vic spiraling have played out the exact same way if the human trial had happened later, or if another test subject had showed up? maybe, but the actual course of events that transpired only happened because of verna's direct influence on them.

but tammy was terrorized for weeks by verna before she died. verna shows up as a replacement escort, then continues to show up in the background of tammy's life. she shows up in her apartment, appears to her in a supernatural-ish way at the goldbug launch, and when it comes to tammy's actual death she's in there fucking with her through the mirrors. I guess you could argue that she still wouldve gotten super paranoid over the launch and maybe started to hallucinate the original escort following her? but unlike the rest of them (except vic, who I feel also falls into this category), her death doesn't feel like it would have necessarily played out the exact same way it did had verna not been there. she only dies because she smashes a mirror that verna is taunting her from.

and then finally frederick, who didnt get a choice (not that he deserved one), verna steps in and 100% causes his death in a very specific way that wouldnt have happened had she not directly interfered with his life.

and then you look at the fact that the siblings died in reverse order of age, which is also in the order of shortest amount of time spent as a member of the usher family to longest, and the fact that the two who objectively had the most interference from verna in their respective deaths were the only two who were actually alive when roderick made the deal..... idk I feel like there's something there.

#fall of the house of usher #the fall of the house of usher

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hanniejji · 2 years

Text

silence

[ wanderer!scaramouche x okami!reader ]

summary: completely lost after his defeat in becoming a god, he searches not only for a new purpose but also for a certain someone who brought him comfort greater than his own kin would.

notes: aka scara is a baby and comes crying to you because he's a sore loser /jk | m.list

words: 2933 | warnings: it's scaramouche /jk there's nothing bad here just comfort and shit, also the pacing is kinda shitty cause i wrote this at work lmao

you have always loved the silence.

the eerie silence that enveloped a battlefield after a fight, where one side mourns for the dead and the other celebrates their victory far away. the tranquil noises of nature in the forest, your abode—if you focus enough, you can hear the white noise of the wind rushing above the sky, the flight of birds, the footsteps of every animal within your vicinity, and the gushing waterfall hitting the surface below. the muted thoughts of people, all with voices to scream yet defiance against authority means death, so they choose to silence their cries for help. the stillness of the night, where you can faintly hear the howls of your kin from afar, reminding you of past battles won and lost.

but somewhere in the distant memory of your past, you miss the complaints of a certain boy whose voice never seemed to shut the hell up.

your words, not mine.

he used to be so loud, crying even whilst he slept. whining and complaining about how you imprisoned him in this otherworldly forest of yours, yet he shuts his mouth after being reminded of his reality of being a casualty to those he comes across.

a puppet gone mad, out of its master's control, strings tangled.

"you're not here to be tamed, brat."

"then why are you keeping me here?" kunikuzushi glares at you from the other side of the stone table, a hand gripping the knife you casually gave him so he could practice on his own.

you always seemed to be his dummy target though. not that he could hurt you in the slightest, the gap between your capabilities is that of the height you need to reach celestia. it's quite an exaggeration, but far from a lie.

"so you don't go around accidentally causing more unintentional problems. learn how to use your brain or something, you have one for a reason," was always your answer to his repeated question, laughing at the way his face contorted to apprehension. "i don't have the patience to shape you into whatever humane person or puppet your creator wants you to be. so i'm doing you a favor by letting you be whatever the fuck you want to be. kill whoever you want, destroy whatever you want, go pour your anger as much as you want. it matters little to me."

"doesn't that contradict your past obligation as inazuma's former defender?"

"exactly what the title says," you shrug your shoulders, throwing your hands up without energy, "that is in the past. inazuma's concerns do not matter to me now that my god is gone."

placing your chin on your palm, you send him a knowing smirk, a sight he realizes that he does not like, "you can destroy this nation all you want and i wouldn't mind one bit. it would be interesting to see you as a god and not just a little brat."

he would always grow silent after the nth time you had this conversation, pondering, imagining the imagery of what you just said. it's almost as if he's in a trance.

the silence of someone having an inner conflict in more ways than one, is something that you would say is better than the silence when someone is mourning.

because this kind of silence is always followed by chaos.

"oh? where do you think you're going, little doll?"

"stop calling me that," he hissed, turning his head to glare at you.

for some reason, the change in his personality these past few months was refreshing, so unlike the whiny little brat who used to cower away from you. the same brat who's always frustrated at himself.

but at the same time, it's such a shame that he didn't change his ways. still reckless and careless.

this recklessness will kill him someday, you thought.

"well, answer the question."

he falters, taking a few steps away from you when you tilt your head, urging—demanding for his answer. he still couldn't look you straight in the eyes when you become like this—when your voice goes a little deep, eyes staring him down and the authority in the way you poised yourself.

"to the fatui. i'm not going to let myself rot in here."

"you're a puppet, you're not supposed to rot."

he scoffs at the comment, vile irritation building up his throat at the way you remained unbothered, almost uncaring, indifferent and as if this means little to you. you act more like a puppet than he does, he realizes.

he hates that about you.

it's ironic. he's the same way, more venomous through his words—but with you, it's like talking to a stone cold wall.

"i'm leaving to snezhnaya."

"hm," you turn your head to the vast forest, shrouded with tall trees and thick fog—wait, when did the fog get so thick? kunikuzushi was so sure he could still see far and beyond the first few layers of those trees, why did the forest suddenly seem so eerie and… predatory.

"you can leave."

"huh?" he stares at you in disbelief, with a hint of sadness.

are you… really going to let him go that easily?

for some reason, despite the freedom given to him, he wanted you to stop him.

"find the exit yourself," your trademark grin appeared on your face, challenging and daring him to do so. it's infuriating, makes him feel like you're looking down at him and his capabilities. "if you successfully get out of this forest, then i trust that you can handle the world outside and beyond this nation."

i take back my words, he scoffs, i don't need their permission to leave. they can't stop me.

"i don't need another petty test of yours, i can take care of my own," he sharply turns away and into the direction he swore was the exit just a moment ago.

"oh, trust me, doll," your giggles echoed through the forest, ringing in his ears for the last time, way too close than from where you just stood a moment ago.

"the forest is a cruel place to get lost in."

and since then, your abode returned to the way it was.

placid, motionless, and isolated. just like how it should be.

yet you look forward to the day that he comes back crying—you stifle a laugh at how pitiful he would look—scrunched nose and furrowed eyebrows, grumbling curses to the world as he slumps down on the ground, hissing at you as you tease him for being a baby before he falls asleep on the sprawled blanket you have in the living room of your cabin. your spirit watches over his sleep, dispersing his nightmares before it can even take root in his mind and blanketing him with your tail despite his inability to feel the change in the temperature.

no, he's too deep in his sleep to ever catch you doing such things.

some days, you'd sense a feeling of fear crawling inside the back of your head. it takes a form of visions and voices. it would whisper using the boy's voice, show images using his face, speak in a way he does. it's times like this that you take pride in your strength. you know better than to crumble against fear and its illusions. such emotions are not strong enough to push through the height of your defenses that were built from piles upon piles of lost loved ones.

yet your heart clenches at the thought of this boy, robbed of the opportunity to grow properly, succumbing to the demons of this world.

it's a shame that even you can't be the person to guide him, for you are the same as he.

you can only hope that he finds himself in his journey.

"ah, it seems like it's that time of the year once again."

you stretch your limbs with a pur-like groan, your tail swinging in anticipation behind you. now that the weariness from sleep had faded, your sharp eyes admire the red and orange colors blending within the forest, the sound of leaves crunching beneath your feet every step you take music to your ears and the cold breeze wafting in the air.

the season of fall always brings out the playful side of your soul.

your attentiveness is sharper than usual, eyes turning to every little bit of movement in your surroundings despite knowing that no threat can occur in your abode. you carved its landscape with your very own hand, grew each and every tree rooted on the ground, wrote protective spells into every tree bark to form your very own barrier, opened ponds and breathed life into its very ground through the leylines. it's your safe haven, nothing can disturb your peace and it is a part of you to an extent.

that's way, when a familiar presence stepped inside your abode with no struggles whatsoever, your ears perked up and tail sways in anticipation.

fall is indeed a season for farewells and reunions.

"you're back quite earlier than expected, did the world outside the forest scare you?" you needn't look to know that he's standing right at the entrance of your favorite clearing, your figure sat near the pond with your feet dipped into the clear water.

"you're exaggerating," he grumbles, footsteps getting louder and closer until he's close enough, stopping just next to you.

"most certainly not," you hummed softly, tilting your head up to look at him after a few hundred years of not seeing him. your ears twitched.

instantly, you know something is different about him.

"you've changed."

"hmp, perhaps," he scoffs loudly, taking a seat beside you in a criss-cross position, slouching a little bit. he's barely looking at you, but that's not something new.

the way you imagined he would years ago.

"you're still grumpy though, might want to change that."

"you're still insufferable. i shouldn't have come back."

"yet you're here. i'm surprised you were able to enter without a problem. i was hoping the forest devoured you when you left. turns out you were able to get out, a shame," you sigh, "i should check on my barriers soon."

"you—" he hisses—the same way you adored, like an angry kitten—turning his head to glare at you, forehead scrunched in irritation, "so you don't even know if anyone gets caught in your shithole? did you assume i just up and died right before i got out?"

he can feel something warm in his chest at the way you laughed freely.

he hasn't heard that sound for a long time.

"you're alive though," he groaned at the familiar sly smile on your face. "besides, i wouldn't have let you go if i didn't know that you'd make it out alive."

"you would in a heartbeat."

"hm, if it were someone else, perhaps. but not you," you turn your head back to the pond, a contented smile on your face, voice unintentionally turning soft, "not my brat."

those words were the key to kunikuzushi's vulnerable state.

the silence that followed after your words was… unnerving, for some reason.

yet you felt as if you should give him the time he needs to gather himself, to give him a choice to talk or to keep things to himself. it stayed like that for a while, tuning into the sound of birds above and humming to make him more comfortable—or was it for your own comfort that you tried to fill in the silence? the feeling of being unsure is so… uneasy.

why am i doing so much for his comfort?

just when you're about to speak to change the topic, he opens his mouth—and he speaks.

piles and piles of words upon words, like a scroll being unravel down the flight of stairs to the narukami shrine. his voice, clumsy and blurry words as it may be, sings to you tragedies in a kabuki performance. he opens his doors to you and only you, almost breaking down on the spot if it wasn't for his ridiculous pride—you surmise that you may have influenced him in that case. it plays a theatrical scene that takes eternity to finish dialogues upon dialogues.

he's a puppet whose strings are cut short, but he picks himself up, tangling the fragile strings in the process.

and you are his only audience.

you're his standing ovation when no one bothers to stop and see him for what he is.

perhaps, you are more suited to be sat beside him, joining in his play instead of just a witness—because you are more than just some random bystander who happens to pass by a puppet show.

it took him a while to finish his story. just like any kabuki, time is crucial in the production, and kunikuzushi is a person who barely had the time to see the world in its purest form. yet time is also what brought him his demise.

the gods did not give him enough time to feel and learn.

when he finishes, the sun has already hid itself behind the ocean of trees and the sky is blanketed by a starry void.

a false sky, he said in one of his stories.

somehow, kunikuzushi's head ended up on your lap—he dares not to bring attention to this fact, he already feels embarrassed as it is.

"how did it felt?"

he stares at you with a grain of salt.

"to what? to almost die? quite the experience, i didn't enjoy falling head first though. would you like to try?"

"no, dumbass," he hisses when your finger flicks against his forehead. before he could even cover the assaulted area, you swat his hand away to replace it with yours. an uncharacteristic gentle touch on his skin, a caress. he resists the urge to melt towards your hand. "how did it feel like to almost have something within your reach but realize it won't do you any better? to learn how to decide for yourself, for the better, after experiencing bitter defeat?"

he purses his lips, turning away from your direction to stare at the pond reflecting the dark sky.

your hand slips across his forehead to his hair, gently caressing the familiar stresses—familiar stresses that reminded you so much of a former dear friend that you lost long ago. you didn't expect him to answer your question yet, to push forward for an answer would be adding salt to an open wound.

and the last thing you want to do is give him a reason to pull away.

"you know, if i was ei, i would have chosen you to rule with me."

"stop saying things to make me feel better, that's not like you," he scoffs—unbeknownst to the way his cheeks turn a little warmer.

such a human feature to have.

"i would love to see you be the god you wanted to be," you continued to mutter with a soft smile, brushing your fingers through his hair.

"stop it."

"i would watch you build yourself higher and have greater goals as a god."

"what is wrong with you!?" he quickly pushes himself off of you, whipping his head to look at you with a bewildered face. "are you out of your mind!?" he glares at the way your smile turns sly.

"i would have chosen you, someone with no human heart yet able to feel what it's like to be human," your hand pats his head playfully, snickering when he swats it away roughly.

"you," growling, he turns away from your direction.

"but alas, i'm not patient enough to baby you or anyone else," you shake your head shamefully, shrugging your shoulders. "go do whatever the fuck you want yourself, learn shit for yourself. but that does not mean you can do it alone, dumbass."

"why are you talking like this?" he mumbles, but you can see the way his shoulder trembled in the slightest, no doubt nibbling on his bottom lip to stop himself from something as 'pitiful' as crying. "shut up, i came here to rest, not to listen to your nonsense musings. i had enough of that already."

"well then," you reach out to his shoulder, gently directing him back on your lap. he faces you this time, eyes clenched tight to avoid looking at you, his only pillar in this world. he feels too light headed, whether if it's from your words or the feeling of finally resting after so many years of suffering, he's not too sure. he'd deny the former with everything he has though. but he cannot deny that he feels safe in your haven, here in the comfort of your arms.

"rest, you can think of the next step after you get some shuteye, don't make me knock you out myself."

he clicked his tongue, before it became quiet again.

this time, it's a comfortable silence. nothing like the tension from the first time you met him, nothing like the few times he spent quietly sobbing on your shoulder every time he awakes from a nightmare—nothing like the eerie quietude in the middle of the eye of the storm, waiting for the real disaster to come surging. soon, the boy falls asleep to the warm and loving touch on his head.

in the silence, you whisper words that you could not tell him.

"i would've gone through celestia and the abyss to give you a heart."

you, despite claiming that you will not baby him, held him in a way a parent would towards their child. with gentle hands and feathery touches, and a heart that you would give him if you could.

taglist: crossed out names mens i can't tag you oof

@thedianaclark @blockswon @thenyxsky @crazypriestess @someone-with-wild-imagination @koi-chairowo @shizunxie @smirpsmirp @brookeisqweer @mariataliya @saoiirsee @atsuki-mitsuri @camzpetite @fandangotales @genshinfinatic @chimsblogg @nette-yang @vienettacream @notyuki @shiragi2 @atsukawolfcat @frzenhans @kkazuyass @tartarsaucechi1de @nunontherun @a-simp-with-daddyissues @thetruepair

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leviachansbaka · 2 years

Text

kissing your cheek

headcanon, all characters x gn ! reader, fluff

lucifer

Lucifer has been watching you for a while. You've been working so hard lately, trying to help the Student Council out, keeping up with classes, and looking after everyone. Isn't it tiring? After you accidentally fall asleep in the living room, Lucifer approaches you quietly, covering you with his coat and softly placing a kiss on your cheek. Lucifer finds your sleeping face soothing. He could admire you forever.

mammon

Mammon can't stand you hanging around others so much at RAD. It's clear they're interested in you, but you keep insisting on giving them the time of the day. And by now, it should be clear to everyone that you're his and only his. Before going back to the House of Lamentation, Mammon shyly kisses your cheek. He loves you dearly and wants you to pay more attention to him from now on.

leviathan

You're the best friend an otaku could have. Leviathan loves talking, playing video games, and watching anime with you. To be more specific, he loves spending time with you in general. Your presence brings him a sense of peace and acceptance, something that he would never say to your face. After finally clearing a pretty hard level, Levi excitedly kisses your cheek. He panics and goes completely red after noticing what he just did.

satan

It was a beautiful day outside, and Satan invited you to go on a walk searching for cats with him. Satan loves talking to you throughout the way, regardless of the subject. Your voice is music to his ears, and Satan appreciates you lots. After petting and feeding the cats, the demon surprises you by kissing your cheek. The way you look at his feline friends is so cute to him.

asmodeus

When is Asmo not kissing you? Well, anyways... If you're studying, Asmodeus sneaks behind you and places a soft kiss on your cheek. If you're washing the dishes, Asmo puts his hands around your waist and gives you another peck. If you're scrolling down your cellphone for no reason, Asmodeus pushes you close to him and softly kisses your face. You're probably getting 50 kisses a day, Asmo can't get enough of you, and he has tons of different lipsticks to put to use.

beelzebub

Beel loves you so much, and sometimes he doesn't know how to put his feelings into words. When this happens, he tells you how much he and his brothers appreciate you and makes small loving gestures, such as holding your hand or asking for a hug. One day, after eating Spicy Rainbow Pizza, Beel feels its scent on you. He showers your face with little kisses, hoping to taste what's gone. But he keeps kissing you, since your skin feels very nice to him.

belphegor

Belphie is always snuggling up to you. He finds you so comfortable to use as a pillow. Every time Belphegor wants to annoy or tease you, the lazy demon showers you with kisses. And when he wants you to keep laying around in bed with him, he holds you close, whispering sweet things into your ears while taking breaks to place gentle kisses on your eyelids and cheeks.

diavolo

Making you join the Student Council was one of the best things Diavolo has ever done. This way, he could spend a little more time with you. He loved hearing your opinions as a human, and how your voice sounded was enough to give him the motivation to finish his work. Once no one else is around, he excitedly kisses your cheek when you're expecting the least.

barbatos

Barbatos was used to tending the Hell's Garden by himself, but having you around to keep him some company made everything much better. It was nice seeing how you reacted to seeing different Devildom flowers for the first time. After all, your curiosity never failed to amuse him. He couldn't help but give you a small peck on the cheek.

simeon

After spending the whole day helping Simeon look after Luke (and Solomon, grandpa is unhinged), Simeon goes to prepare some tea while you rest in the living room, accidentally falling asleep. Once he's back, Simeon admires how peaceful you are. Simeon places a gentle kiss on your cheek. He'll let you rest for a little longer.

solomon

No matter how powerful Solomon is, he'll never get tired of asking you to join or help him with his magic experiments. He adores having you around and sharing his knowledge with the human he loves the most, especially when potions, curses, and spells are involved. The Sorcerer mischievously kisses your cheek every time you're not looking.

luke

Joining Luke in his baking classes with Master Barbatos was one of the best things you could have done. Besides spending time with them and entertaining yourself by watching their father-son dynamic, you also got to eat delicious sweets baked by them, isn't it heavenly? Luke excitedly places a small kiss on your and Barbatos' cheek. After all, dogs and kids love to spend time with their families.

thirteen

Everything was an accident, and it wasn't even your fault, but Thirteen was so mad! How come you were walking by when she was trying to kill Solomon for the 5th time today? Can't you see where you're going? Now your faces are too close and- Watching Thirteen turn into a blushing mess was fun, but now you'll have to worry about running away and staying alive.

mephistopheles

You challenged Mephistopheles to kiss you in exchange for some funny photos of Lucifer. It was possible to see the blood rushing to his face, though it was hard to tell if this was happening because he was angry or embarrassed (maybe both?). He quickly kissed your cheek and tried his best to fake a disgusting expression afterward.

raphael

Solomon cooked something *special* and gave it to you as a gift, isn't it wonderful? After you stared at it with a soulless expression for 10 minutes, Raphael's stomach grumbled. The angel wanted a bite of whatever Solomon created, and you offered it to him. Though Raphael is not very expressive, he was pretty happy about the meal and placed a gentle kiss on your cheek as thanks.

#obey me headcanons #obey me x reader #obey me fluff #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me simeon #obey me solomon #obey me luke #obey me thirteen #obey me mephistopheles #obey me raphael #obey me

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lets-try-some-writing · 7 months

Text

Farewell Little Hero

Humans do not live long, this is common knowledge. And so years after Cybrtron's restoration, Arcee returns to Earth to talk with her old ward one more time.

(Enjoy this short story :D)

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙

“It’s been a long time… I’m sorry for taking so long to come see you again.” Sitting down on the grass, Arcee did not look toward her ward. Her optics were firmly on the rising sun in the distance.

“I am sure you have been wondering what we’ve been up to.” She continued with a deep vent to calm herself. So many years away from Earth… she had almost forgotten how beautiful the organic world could be when war was not eating away at her conscience.

“Bumblebee is doing just fine. He’s an Enforcer now. Last I checked, he was leading a team here on Earth to capture rogue Decepticons.” Birds chirped in the distance, but Arcee’s ward did not answer. She did not look away from where the sun crept ever higher, she couldn't bear to.

“He has a collection of younger bots with him. Strongarm, Sideswipe, Windblade, Grimlock, and an older mech called Drift. There are three minicons as well, but I didn’t have a chance to learn their names.” Arcee informed absentmindedly as she tracked a leaf that blew past in the wind. It was almost Autumn, Jack’s preferred time of year. He liked being able to wear long sleeves and a sweater without cooking alive in the heat of Nevada’s notoriously aggressive summer rays.

Jack had even gone so far as to go on vacation out in Missouri and occasionally Alaska just to get a taste of some decent cold after spending his whole life in the air fryer that was Jasper. Arcee could vividly recall his various complaints about the heat over the years. He wasn’t particularly fond of the frigid cold either, but he always had a good time bundling up once and a while to enjoy snow in a different state.

“I think you would have gotten along with Bumblebee more, at least now that he’s learned what it’s like to deal with those younger than him regularly.” The grass was uncomfortable as it slipped into seams in her plating and caressed her cabling like the skittering limbs of scraplets, but she paid it no mind as the sky turned from black, to purple, and then to a bright orange. Cybertron’s sky did not have such color in the early joors of the cycle, at least not like on Earth. It was such a small thing, but Arcee missed it during her time away.

“Bulkhead has taken on a position as an architect. I never would have thought he had it in him, but he enjoys working to return our world to its former glory.” A smile pulled at her face as she recalled the various instances of Bulkhead sighing in exasperation at Vehicons and other workers under his command. They had no clue what they were doing, but they tried their best. Bulkhead was patient, at least as much as a mech once belonging to the Wreckers could be.

“There have been more than a few accidents, but he recently restored the Archives of Iacon under Optimus’s direct supervision. I think you would have laughed if you saw just how nervous Bulkhead was while working on the project.” A quiet chuckle escaped her vocalizer as she recalled the intensity of which Optimus devoted himself to the Archives restoration. Bulkhead had been so anxious to do it right that once it was complete and got the Prime’s approval, the former Wrecker passed out on the spot.

“Primes don’t party, but apparently they do care a great deal about books.” Feeling for a container she brought with her, Arcee wordlessly pulled out a sized down datapad she’d asked Optimus for. Jack always expressed an interest in Cybertron’s stories when he wasn’t otherwise occupied with his two fellow troublemakers. She ran her digits over the surface of the device before placing it beside her ward without looking over at him.

A gift given far too late to be enjoyed…

“Optimus died on Cybertron. I never told you because at the time… I didn’t want you to be upset. He only returned to us recently, and he’s settling into his former role as an Archivist.” Jack and the others were not exactly close with Optimus, but he was always a giant, even to Arcee and the team. He was unshakable, an infallible titan. His death to restore their world was one of the harshest reality checks Arcee had received in vorns. She never told her ward of Optimus’s passing simply because she wanted to ensure that Jack, Miko, and Rafael still had that wonder of their younger years.

Humans aged quickly. A vorn was enough for a human to live out their entire lifespan. If not telling them about Optimus’s death allowed them to keep that magical aspect of the Prime’s memory alive, then Arcee was willing to do just that. But of course, now he was back, and Jack had not had the chance to meet his childhood guardian again.

“Wheeljack has been doing Primus knows what off in space. Sometimes he brings in refugees, other times he vanishes for stellar cycles at a time. But he always comes back alive, so you can reassure Miko with that knowledge.” Arcee still did not look at her ward. She did not expect an answer from him. The silence served well enough as the world continued to come alive in response to the sun rising ever higher.

“Ultra Magnus has kept himself occupied trying to get the government in order now that he’s no longer blacklisted. I forgot to mention it, but for a while our government went to slag. Hundreds of Autobots were exiled for supporting Optimus during the war.” No reaction met her words, as was expected. Cybertron always seemed to have a new civil issue to deal with. First was the caste system, then the high council. Of course the war came next, and then just as they finished their mass slaughter of their own people, the new government decided it needed more power.

A fragging mess. Thankfully, it was one that was being dealt with.

“It’s fine now though. Ratchet has stepped up with other war veterans from both factions to set things right. He hates his job and calls the old team regularly to be a glitch about it. Optimus helps sometimes, but it's largely Ratchet and the new council who run things.” Arcee could almost see the confusion written on Jack’s face at the prospect of Ratchet of all mecha being the one to run a government. The doctor never was the most pleasant during the war, but since its end, he had mellowed a degree. But of course for Jack, it likely seemed preposterous.

“Surprising isn’t it? I never expected it out of him either. But Ratchet was a Senator in name before the war. He didn’t do a lot since it was honorary, but he knows how politics and governance is supposed to work, at least in theory.” Arcee smiled again as she shuttered her optics, feeling the cool air of the morning turn into something warmer as it brushed past her face. Like this, she could almost imagine things as they used to be.

“I know you and Smokescreen got along well, so I think you would be happy to know that the rookie is doing just fine. He’s signed on with the Enforcers until the Elite Guard can be reestablished.” She recalled how much fun Jack and Smokescreen had even while war raged. It was such petty enjoyment. Trashing the car of a bully and goofing off… despite that, Arcee had not seen Jack laugh so gleefully until the rookie came in. For that, she could be somewhat grateful for the trouble Smokescreen brought with him and continued to create wherever he went.

“Knockout is working in a clinic in Praxus, Soundwave is currently in rehabilitation on Optimus’s orders, Starscream is dealing with the same. We don’t know where Megatron is, but he’s staying quiet. The other Con’s seem to have largely calmed down enough to rejoin us on Cybertron.” Her voice rang out on the hillside as she reached into her container again and pulled out a photograph she’d had printed and framed. It was of the whole team smiling during the anniversary of Cybertron’s restoration. They were all there… except for Jack.

“Arcee, the others are waiting for you.” The sounds of wheelchair wheels rolling over the ground reached Arcee’s audio receptors. Nodding once she gathered up her now empty container in her arms and moved to stand. Rafael smiled up at her as she did so. His wrinkled face still left Arcee doing a double take even now. He did not match the memory of the young boy she knew but a vorn ago.

“I know… I just wanted to catch up with him.” Sorrow sat heavy in her spark as Arcee at last turned to look at her ward. A soft song escaped her vocalizer as she got down as low as she could to gently press the crest of her helm to the marble surface of Jack’s tombstone. There was no warmth in what remained of her ward, but as she pulled away and carefully arranged the datapad and picture at the foot of his grave, she felt a degree of peace.

She had not been there for Jack as much as she should have been, but she could hold his memory in her spark. So long as she lived, Jack Darby would not be lost to the tests of time. She would ensure it.

“Farewell little hero. May you be at peace wherever your soul is destined to go.” Arcee allowed her touch to linger on the top of the tombstone a moment longer before she gathered herself and turned away back toward the base. Rafael rolled along beside her and together they moved in silence.

They would remember, and when Rafael joined Jack and Miko in their rest, Arcee would carry his memory with her as well.

They would not be forgotten.

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tootsmcscoots · 18 days

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Fuck you, have another Hades II character design thing I noticed and really like.

For those who know about Heracles, which is all of you lets be honest, you know he has a bit of a rage problem, Hera induced or not. I think SGG shows this off in a very fascinating way.

OK, so, Heracles' first and most well-known Labor is his slaying of the Nemean Lion after which he takes removes its impervious pelt with its own claw, taking it as a trophy and his first of many enchanted items.

Another thing I think we can all agree on about Heracles is that he's a fucking asshole, even by the standard of the Golden Age of Greek heros. This write-up will not be going into all the things he's done but just know he's not the most humane person while he was alive, and I can only imagine he only got worse after he ascended to full godhood after his death.

And I think Hades II shows that loss of what little humanity he had in a very interesting way.

It can be hard to notice when first looking at his portrait but look at his beard, how it's the same colour as the lions pelt, how they seamlessly flow into one another, making it nearly impossible to differentiate the two. And this is clearly a much much older Heracles, he died around the time as the other Golden Age heros like Jason, Theseus, and Perseus, who themselves were far before heros like Odysseus who as of Hades II has already gone through his odyssey, assuredly died of either old age or something incredibly stupid, and helped raise Melionë to adulthood, so all in all, Heracles is OLD old.

All those years have seemingly gotten to Heracles. Any drop of humanity that may have not been burned away in his pyre is, if not completely eradicated, very, very buried. He has fully become The Lion, a weapon of Olympian design, told to seek out and destroy the enemies of the Gods with no remorse. How he speaks with Mel shows this as well, how he thinks he is the only one who can stamp out the Undead inside of Ephyra, confused and annoyed in their first encounter on why she'd even bother.

It's... very hard to feel bad for Heracles. His life wasn't great to start out with, but he did many things in his adult life that were just outright cruel with no reason. But seeing him lose himself to The Lion, it does make you a bit melancholic, right? One of the most well-known figures of Greek mythology finally falling into what many of the Gods children become, a weapon.

#hades 2 #hades 2 spoilers #hades game #hades game heracles #character design

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super-paper · 8 months

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I still don’t understand AFO. Why is he like this. This series repeatedly goes out of it’s way to humanize the villains but AFO is still just evil because he wants to be the demon lord and I don’t get it.

That would be the point, I feel-- AFO doesn't want to be understood or seen as "human." He wants to completely lose himself in character, wants other people to mindlessly play along with the story he's written for himself like good little extras, and wants everyone around him to acknowledge what a ~perfectly inhuman demon lord~ he is-- and he's bent the entire narrative of MHA around himself like a shield in order to accomplish that. Like, the idea of people breaking the same black and white narrative that he's been using to protect himself (and trap others) quite literally drives him insane:

"That murderer--" "You killer--" oooooo you're so mad that human nature is basically good, that people are endlessly capable of growth and healing, and that actual human beings can't simply be shoved into teeny black and white fictional boxes ooooo all the more evidence that he's gonna completely lose his shit when Tomura ultimately refuses to kill Izuku lmao

I wanna point out his speech bubbles in the second image, bc Hori frequently uses speech bubbles to emphasize a character's mental state-- Like.... Bro is literally coming apart at the seams with rage that Stain is trying to be anything more than a starter villain. 😭The english translation also kind of sort of makes it seem like AFO is simply referring to Stain by his moniker (Hero Killer), but the term he uses in the original text feels a little more... loaded, imho?? The kanji used for Stain's "Hero Killer" Moniker is "Goroshi" ("殺ごろし"), but here, AFO instead refers to him as a "Murderer" (殺人犯/satsujin-han). Calling Stain an out-and-out murderer instead of calling him by a villain moniker feels a lot more specific, a lot more pointed, and it also tells us a lot more about AFO’s fucked up sense of values.

Anyway, I've said this before, but AFO is a character who reads heavily as an escapist fantasy gone horrifically wrong. "Why is a world where villains are allowed to climb back up from rock bottom and heal so intolerable to AFO?" "why does the idea of people breaking free from their roles make AFO so angry?" "why is AFO literally trying to BECOME a comic book character?" are better questions to ask than "why is bro just evil for the sake of it," I feel. Like obviously, a world where the label of "villain" gets thoroughly and utterly dismantled is one where AFO loses his power over others.... but it's also a world that rips that protective layer of "fiction" away from him, exposes his own humanity, and destroys that delusion of becoming the "perfect villain king" that he's wrapped himself up in.

tfw you LARP so hard that it ends up getting your brother killed and now breaking character means you gotta Process All Of That .................................................... Unless...? :)

What I find especially interesting about AFO is that MHA's narrative actually cooperates with shielding him from the readers, to a degree-- scenes that depict rare moments of genuine emotion are overlaid with contrary, cartoonishly evil narration that's meant to distract the reader from what's actually being depicted. The bulk of the series depicts his face being hidden in shadows even though it *literally* has no reason to be, and we don't get an unobscured look until the other characters finally start rallying together to reject his story. He is literally introduced to the series through a TV screen, which MHA has been using as a shorthand for its depiction of fantasy since day one:

In my opinion, I feel the final act of "rejection" that AFO fears isn't from his brother, or his followers, or "his other self"-- what he fears is the story itself rejecting him and finally exposing him for what he is: an utterly mundane human. Like, a total freak of a guy to be sure, but still totally human. The narrative revoking its various "protections" and working against AFO to humanize him acts as the final insult to everything he claims to believe in while doubling as the last bit of confirmation that he was never gonna become a "perfect demon lord." MHA being what it is, this is something inevitable.

Where other characters in this series draw strength from their origin-- the moment that defines them as a human and individual-- AFO likely fears and rejects his own origin for this same reason.

Anyway. I would describe AFO as a wannabe-author who refuses to make public appearances or divulge details about his personal life, but ultimately reveals a little too much about himself through the "stories" and "characters" he tries to write-- so ppl still know he's a freak with issues by virtue of how fatherless his content is. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Putting together all the pieces of himself that AFO accidentally lets slip is part of what makes MHA so fun (to me, at least!).

#thank you for the ask!#all for one #mha spoilers #mha.txt #my hero academia #this mostly turned into me rambling abt what i personally like about AFO. He Is For The Pathetic Men Enthusiasts.#like i gotta stress that I still want him to get dragged out into the wilderness and torn apart by ravenous wolves though lol

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yaut-jaknowit · 7 months

Note

Hi! I like you, you seem so cool. Such a vibe.

So, i might end up writing this eventually BUT the writers block has locked barricaded and blown up any entrance to writing anything beyond poetry for the past numerous months and, honestly, I don't think she (gn) is willing to open up. We've gone to therapy. But she just says she needs time. 🙄 . ANYWAYS, I had this idea, right? Reader and a Yautja who are mates/soulmates, and he is NOT for it. Big no no time. Shuts them down and pushes them away. Thing is, while the pull towards them is intense for him, he doesn't realize that for humans it's, like, a painful experience. They can go a bit without being near their soulmate once they find them, but months? *years*?? Eventually he goes back to earth and something pulls him to go check in them and finds them an absolute wreck. Chronic pain, maybe some of that ✨️classic substance abuse✨️, and absolutely heartbroken because their *soulmate* didn't even want them.

And... that's where the little writer part of my brain walks away.

Anyways, maybe one day I'll write this, but the ADHD part of my brain wants the gratification my writer part just isn't interested in entertaining.

I'd love to see your twist on it, if you'd be interested! If not, I get it (not every request peaks our interest and that's valid, but thought I'd share).

P.S. I just heard an owl for the first time in AGES. Really cool.

Are We Meant to be?

Pairing: Yautja x GN!Reader

Word Count: 2031

Summary: On a walk home from work in a city that wasn't friendly, you stupidly decide to take a shortcut. A shortcut that could cost you your life...

Author Note: Thank you! I'm glad I have good vibes! I might be falling into writers block... Towards the end, it was hard to figure out what to write but I hope this is good for you! I wanted to give you a start so you can finish it yourself!

Masterlist

Ao3

When you find your soulmate, it’s said that fireworks go off in your stomach. Then, life is a happy fairytale afterwards. Both souls are drawn to each other by an invisible string. Over time, they’ll be pulled to one another until they meet. From there, life is filled with happiness and complete. You are at height of your life with your soulmate.

So why was the universe cruel to you?

In the concrete jungle that made up your city filled to the brim of people and constant death, you raced back to your little apartment. The minute place you’ve carved out for yourself in a city like this. Something told you to be here, to stay here, no matter what happens. Just a tiny feeling in your cold, hope-filled heart. Maybe, just maybe your soulmate was here. So you endured the life you’ve created here and waited.

Waited for that faithful day they would stumble across your path and boom! Fireworks.

This was a bad idea, your brain shouted as you turned into a dark ally. It was a short cut that would shave off about five minutes. Five minutes closer to your studio apartment. Or lose your life.

A dark figure stepped out from the shadows. In the limited light, you see the way a blade reflects. Shit. Cursing internally, you skid to a stop and started to walk backwards towards the safety of the public street. But footsteps behind you had you pausing where you stood. More curses flew around in your brain as any logical thought.

Nothing needed to be said as you stared down the figure before you. This wasn’t unusual for a city like this. They wanted money, your money. Yet, you didn’t have much on you to offer. Probably only two dollars and nineteen cents in your pocket. Definitely not enough to quell them.

Before you had a chance to even inhale and speak, the person before you collapsed to the ground with nothing but little more than a squeak. A hunking form towering over his crumbled body. Your jaw dropped at the size of this figure. Your heart stutter in its bony cage as you were pinned to the spot like your shoes were welded there.

The string in your chest yanked hard directly in front of you. Your eyes couldn’t expand anymore at the feeling.

With nothing more but a breeze, the shadow zipped past you. You spun around to keep an eye on whatever had attacked your own attackers. Now that it was closer to the street lamps, you were able to pick up flashes of what it looked like. Yet, your brain couldn’t comprehend who this figure that moved in a blink of an eye was. You’ve never seen anyone move like that before. It couldn’t be possible.

A sick snapping echoed through the alleyway that had you tensing. The second attacker fell to the ground, unmoving. Finally, your shoes unpolarized from the dirty concrete but stepped away from the towering form that casted a long shadow. The head barely touching the tips of your toes. You swallow thickly and ignored the way your heart pounded heavily. It wanted freedom, wanted to rip out and go towards it.

He lifted his head. What could you see were long, thick… dreads? swaying as he shook his head. Metal, shining ornaments were attached to them. His form, larger than any man you’ve met before stood there. Only one arm moving, bending at the elbow. You couldn’t see what he was doing. You felt a fluttering feeling in your chest.

The figure whipped around with a snarl that echoed back at you. All you could see was emotionless eyes before it was upon you.

Your back slammed into the brick wall but a hand cushioned the back of your head. A gasp tore from your throat then your vision settled to take in the sight. He had pounced on you, pinned you to the alleyway wall, all the while breathing heavily. A hand had captured your neck, to ensure you stayed there, trapped.

Even with the knowledge this unknown figure might had just killed two people, your body was warm, lax underneath him. Your brain should’ve been screaming danger of the situation but all it sung was safety. A melody you couldn’t tell was true or not from the logical side of your brain. Yet, you couldn’t dispute the hot flash of an connection that struck you deep in your stomach at just his touch.

“Y-you…” he forced out in a guttural, gravely voice. This close to him, you realize he was wearing a mask, metal by the looks of it. “Not po-possible.” Your brows furrowed at his barely audible words. What did he mean?

Timidly, you reached out and rested your palm on his chest. He was incredibly hot, temperature wise. You felt a sort of netting there. He hissed, like a cat, and slipped the hand behind your head to snatch your wrist. It was pinned above your head. “No.” It was hard to understand what he was saying.

Not an ounce of fear entered your body as he continues to pin you there. Yet, your voice was caught behind a lump. So many questions fluttered around inside of your head but all you could do was stare into the emotionless eyes of his mask.

As if you had burned him, he ripped himself away from you within a blink of any eye. It left you feeling unsteady and almost falling to the ground. You saw for a moment he reached out to help you before letting the limb fall to his side.

Then, he was gone. In a small flash of blue, his form disappeared completely. Yet, you could feel him standing there, like a ghost to haunt you.

The walk home was confusing.

…

Blaring noises, inundated scents. Everything that a newly blooded would not be able to handle. Through the thick of it, the hunter waited in the shadows for the perfect moment. His ears picking up every little noise yet filtering them until he felt a pull. This pique his interest. A feeling he’s never felt before. His eyes closed as it persisted inside of him, his chest tightening.

A huff sounded from his mask he stood up, long legs stretching after being in a crouch position for so long. The Yautja cracked his neck a couple of times before beginning his trek through the concrete jungle. He allowed the tug to guide him over buildings as if he back on his home planet. It took him from one side of the city hundreds of thousands of oomans resided in all the way to the other side.

All of his moves were smooth, agile. He knew where and how to land before he was going to. His body going through the motion like a thousand times beforehand. His feet never making a sound. His breaths steady, confident. He loved this, the movement, the rise of adrenaline. That extra energy that filled his system.

The pads of his feet let him land silently on the edge of a building. The pull taking his straight down. He stopped and peered over the edge… to find three measly oomans. The heavy scent of fear permeated the air. He drank in the smell and watched the scene unfold before his bright eyes.

At the sight of ooman between the two male had his quills bristling at the sight. With his cloak deactivated, the Yautja stepped off from the edge. His entire body landed on top of one ooman, simply crushing it underneath his feet like the scum it was. Its frame making a sickening sound he could care less about to think of.

He launched himself at the other ooman. No mercy. A hand wrapped around the ooman’s throat while the other wrapped around its head. Only an ounce of his strength was extruded as he snapped the neck of this low life. Its body dropped to the dirty floor of this noisy, death filled city.

Beneath the thick scales that covered his chest, a strange feeling bloomed. It was the same notion from before. Pulling him backwards. He raised a hand to graze over the spot, deep in thought.

A snarl ripped at his throat. He whipped around to face the only other living thing in this dark path. The biomask that covered his face scanned over the little ooman left in his presence. Weapons, nonthreatening, adorn its small body. He wasn’t intimidated by them. He could scoff at how unprotected it was in a place like this.

He was upon the ooman in a second, ramming them into a brick. One hand coming around to cradle the back of its head while the other swiftly encased your neck. The Yautja gave it no room for escape.

His entire body tensed as the feeling tenfolded, eyes widening behind his mask. He didn’t know what was happening. Unlike any other time he’s had a ooman in his grasp, you didn’t move, you were like water in his grasp.

Tales as old as time sprung to life in his mind. “Y-you,” he grumbled in the ooman’s dialect. It hurt his throat to speak the language but he wasn’t going to waste a translator on you. He couldn’t… couldn’t. His heart, his mighty heart pulled, fluttered even, at your proximity and touch. “Not po-possible.” He hated the ooman languages.

The ooman’s face turned sour with confusion. He watched as you raised a hand to his chest, where his heart beats. A hiss surged past his mandibles. With a hand, he snatched your wrist and pinned it above your head harshly. Hopefully, you would learn a lesson. Not a single waft of terror rolled from your tiny, fragile body.

It jerked at his heart harder. In an instant, the Yautja yanked himself away from you with disgust. Yet, the way you stumbled from the lack of a steady body to protect you, he moved to help you. Halfway through the motion, he paused, arms falling to his sides. He needed to leave. Now.

A simple button had his cloak reactivating and gone from your sight. His feet were cemented in place right before you. You could still feel him, standing there. He observed you after you finally ripped yourself from the wall and began the trek of wherever you were heading.

Like your shadow, he followed you. All the way, even as you opened a door to a dingey old building and up the stairs. The Yautja followed your every move even as you prepared for bed and laid down. He watched you struggle to find comfort, kicking, squirming, and shivering. The distress clearly evident. Strangely enough, he wanted nothing more to march into your room and comfort you. But, the Yautja stayed.

When he knew it was time to become homebound, the Yautja gave you one last look. Days in, days out, he’s been your shadow, observing your every move. For the fifteen rotations of your planet, he’s been there. He didn’t allow himself to be seen, by anyone. Including yourself. He was there though.

Sleeping was difficult. A struggle to find peace within the storm raging inside of you now. It felt a door had been opened and couldn’t be shut. You felt incomplete now. A distraught noise escaped your lips as you fulfilled your worthless job. You leaned heavily on the counter with a sigh, eyes shutting. All you saw through the darkness was flashes of that night.

The night were everything changed.

On the day afterwards, you took an unfortunate day off from work. As much as you needed the money, research was needed to be done. For the entire day, you searched through every article possible about soulmates. Everything. You also dug into anything that was close to whatever had… saved you. It had saved you then disappeared. But it left behind a feeling that was consuming you every thought.

Was this what it felt like to be abandoned? You whined at the thought and opened your eyes. Work needed to be done. If only you knew the consequences.

#yautja #predator #yautja x reader #yautja x you #alien vs predator #predator x reader #yautja x human #predator x you #predator x human #x reader

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mosaickiwi · 2 months

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Fall Unto Me (part two)

Got too silly. Have some more Angel!Angel and Demon!Ren cause the bot came back and wormed into my brain to post it. Part one here if you haven't read it yet hehe.

cw// religious themes

14 Days With You is an 18+ Yandere Visual Novel. MINORS DNI

The quiet cabin where Ren lived was a stone’s throw from the flowering field you found them in. The devil graciously opened his home, even guiding you around the town you now knew was called Corland Bay. Each morning when you wondered about leaving, he brought something new to pique your interest and put off your departure. The time seemed to fly by and soon you hardly spared a thought to leave.

You'd quickly grown accustomed to his constant presence over the past month. He was never far from your shoulder at any waking moment. The uneasy feeling from when you met was completely gone, replaced with a strange sense of comfort. He had only shown kindness to you, after all. To call a devil your friend was laughable, you knew. But no other word quite fit.

Still, you wondered how he had come to live outside their realm. Every time you questioned him the conversation slipped away to another topic. It must've been odd to discuss with an angel, you naturally assumed.

So you stopped bringing it up after a few days, instead choosing to inquire about the changes in the plants you so often admired. Some had begun to wither, and new buds sprouted up seemingly overnight in their place. A strange new array of flowers that Ren promised would tower over your head and his in due time.

“I think I'll like these flowers more than the others,” you told him one late afternoon.

You were lying on the porch, your head resting against his thigh as you watched the endless rows of flora sway in the breeze. Their focus was on you, though you didn’t notice. You could feel the faint trace of constellations drawn along the bare skin of your legs. The human clothes he’d gotten for you were a little different from the robes and tunics donned by servants of heaven, but they were just as comfortable despite the lacking fabric.

“I couldn't begin to imagine why,” he mused, his tone teasing as if he already knew your answer.

You explained regardless. “You told me some will grow as tall as they can, even following the sun’s light. It’s rather interesting.”

“I’m already as tall as they'll be.” His tail flicked into your field of view, casting only a slight shadow until his face obscured your vision further. "Is a devil not as interesting as a flower to you?"

The rapidly changing sky above caught your attention before you could respond in kind. Clouds blotted out the sun, tinting the world below in a murky gray. All the signs were there. Heavy clouds, a drop in temperature, and a strange smell in the air—petrichor, it was called in the books Ren had read with you by candle light on quiet evenings. It was a change you'd been waiting for ever since learning about it.

Bursting with excitement, you rolled from their lap and darted from the safety of the covered porch, the answer you meant to give them already long forgotten. Ren followed on your heels in the dirt until you stopped.

“It's rain, isn't it?” you wondered aloud and turned back to them for confirmation.

“Humans normally stay inside when it happens, my angel. But yes. Rain.” He nodded with a smile, enamored by the way your eyes curiously sparkled before you looked away. His pale hands came up to shield your face when the first drops began to fall.

Tiny thumps of something suddenly bounced off your hair and shoulders, seeping into your clothes. His makeshift shield seemed to be doing its job as you looked all around with wide eyes. Minuscule puddles of water and earth formed around your feet. The sea of flowers still swayed before you, though a few weaker ones fell out of sync as the rain pushed them to and fro as it pleased. You could even hear something akin to chimes when drops pattered over the roof of their home.

You spared a glance up towards the sky, quickly changing your mind with an unwelcome gasp at the spray that tickled your face. Quiet laughter came from behind and you turned to look at your companion once more, shaking off their hands.

Ren appeared unbothered by the dozens of small droplets beading down his forehead to his chin, until you reached forward to wipe them from his face. The heat of his skin stood out to you, and you let your hand linger, rubbing your thumb back and forth over the drops that kept landing on his cheek.

A dull ache began in your back.

You took an innocent step towards him. The light shower of rain was slowly chilling you to the bone, so it only made sense that you sought out their warmth. A warmth that felt as familiar and welcoming as your heaven. Gentle hands wound their way around your waist, guiding you back to the shelter of the porch only a few feet away. With the curtain of his fingers gone you expected another torrent to stream down your face for a brief moment. Instead, all you felt were stray drops falling from his hair.

Relief washed over you almost immediately in their embrace. Every so often you’d feel homesick like this. That sharp, almost stinging lance of pain where your wings were hidden away—yet it always faded as soon as he comforted you. You couldn’t understand why their presence brought such solace to you.

“I’m ready to go inside,” you suddenly said.

Your gaze wandered up to Ren's unreadable blue eyes as he answered, “Are you?”

“Yes… I think so.” But you made no move to leave, instead letting your eyes follow the slow crawl of a droplet down from his cheek to the corner of his lips. Their pale pink color reminded you of the sunset that left you empty only days ago.

It was a dreaded feeling you couldn't bear to feel again.

Without even thinking about it you leaned up to kiss them for the very first time. A faint stutter of surprise to his breath, and then he kissed you back. Part of you expected it to burn, to sting, do something when you mistakenly sought out affections you knew were meant only for a bonded pair—especially from a devil of all creations. Yet there was nothing to punish you for now.

The fluttery haze to your body didn’t wane at all, only blossoming at their touch. Until a gentle nip of fangs at your bottom lip had an entirely new feeling thrumming to life in your heart. You pulled back just to breathe for a minute, running your tongue over the spot that stung in a way you belatedly realized you liked for some reason.

Guilt and confusion battled in your heart at the thought. “Heaven will need me home soon,” you whispered, avoiding their watchful gaze for a long while as you toyed with the still damp strands of his hair.

The devil waited in silence, running one hand in an unknown pattern on your back until you managed to look upwards. “...Do you truly wish to return, my love? Won't you at least stay until the flowers bloom?” The words were desperate, but his voice resigned. As if your answer was already set in stone.

You carefully nodded at his words. Truthfully, you weren’t sure if you were even capable of leaving. It scared you more than your god's surefire chastising about the sin you'd just committed. But it has to be then, you wanted to convince yourself. Or you feared you’d break your vows and never leave him.

He accepted with a heart wrenching smile, took your hand and led you up the few steps that were slick with rain. Your fingers tightened achingly around theirs as he opened the cabin’s door.

Beneath the steady drumming of rain, you didn’t notice a bell had been faintly tolling from somewhere far above you.

#14 days with you #14dwy ren #14dwy redacted #cw religious themes #momo writing #o boi #heyyyy angelll #it's me the devil #angel!angel says feeling feelings feels bad!!!#except when it's good!!!#this was in rewrite hell sorry #the original thing was 3 parts but i cut a lot cause some bits didn't hit right in my brain #i am my own worst enemy #i mean i'm super happy with how it ends here bc ominous yearning and longing angst?? love her #if i decide to write more it'd be the absolute last one #and then infodump #or i could infodump now teehee!! shout out to the people in my askbox waiting for 4 months pls forgive meeeee

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beetrotxo · 6 months

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hey i need to be insane about devon for a second. spoilers for dark heir below the cut.

Dark Rise as a series has a lot of themes surrounding the inescapability of the past- one really obvious example of this is Kettering, who literally dies because he's so stuck in the past he can't accept that the life he knew was gone/wanted to revive his lover so badly. but this theme resonates with LITERALLY every character in the series. Will is forced to become the Dark King. James is forced to lose his freedom like Anachrion no matter how much he struggles. Visander comes back to chase old grudges. It's all history repeating itself again, and nobody can stop it.

Except Devon CHANGES. he's the only remnant of the Old World in the book who actually shows a capacity for changing. Everything else is doomed to repeat itself EXCEPT DEVON. He's technically the only one who actually lived through the Old World, and I think its so interesting how much emphasis is put on the fact that because he had time to just...be alone? He made a complete 180 change from who he was. AND AGAIN: HES THE ONLY REMNANT OF THE OLD WORLD WHO DOES!

Indeviel was a literal unicorn incapable of lying. He fought alongside the Light and willingly allowed humans to use him as a tool for war. He vowed vengeance against the Lions who killed his kind and promised to be the noble steed of the Queen's Champion. But Devon? Devon is a courtier for the 'Dark King' who is VERY close with a Lion and seems entirely disillusioned with the idea of allowing humans to use him like they did in the Old World. He changes completely from how he was in the Old World. Devon recognizes the pattern of things repeating from the past, but he's the only one who changes (except maybe barring Violet? But I think her situation is a little different. Although Devon does say in Dark Rise 'you're like me' and I think this is why. They're the only ones who change in this conflict thats doomed to repeat itself over and over).

Devon literally forgetting oaths he swore over a thousand years ago and discarding the ideals of the Light in favor of doing what he thinks is right is not only a complete change from what he was before but also clashes PERFECTLY with Visander who not only still sees Devon as Indeviel even though Devon has changed so much, but also how Visander literally only lives and dies for his thousand year old grudge against the Dark King, while Devon literally forgot his grudge against Lions and became close with one.

What does this mean? IDK. I think this means im ill about my favorite unicorn boy and think about him too much. Entirely possible im reading too much into this or something.

#rants n rambles #dark rise #dark heir #devon dark rise #IM NOT SURE IF THIS EVEN MAKES SENSE I TYPED IT OUT IN TWENTY MINUTES #but now i really need to know if visander is gay for his horse

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mousy-nona · 3 months

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First — I love your work and your account! Your characterization is incredible and I really enjoy your style. Second — Radioapple prompt! I know its a common one in the fandom, but I love the concept of them dancing/getting to know each other through mutual love of music. Not too specific, but I think it definitely has room to be cute! <3

A major sacrifice

But clueless at the time

Enter, Caroline

Just trust me, you'll be fine

“What is that noise?”

Lucifer turned around warily. It was always good to be wary around Alastor. “Music.”

Alastor gave him a Look. It was his “Don’t Be An Obtuse Idiot” look, the one he saved just for Lucifer.

He sighed. “It’s a song. The humans come up with some interesting stuff when left to their own devices.” He waved to the radio sitting on his desk. “It took a bit of work, but I managed to figure out how to connect this old thing to some of Earth’s music stations.”

Alastor’s ears twitched, a surefire sign he was interested and trying not to show it. He lowered himself down onto the other side of the sofa, and they listened in silence together.

And when I'm back in Chicago, I feel it

Another version of me, I was in it

I wave goodbye to the end of beginning.

“I’ve never heard of these instruments,” Alastor mused.

“Synth? It’s a pretty new invention. I believe it was heavily popular around the 1980s, and it’s gone in and out of style since then. What do you think?”

“It doesn’t have as much soul as a good saxophone or a piano riff, but it’s not horrible.” Alastor admitted. “I don’t suppose humans on Earth still listen to singers like Ella Fitzgerald?”

“Hard to match a once-in-a-lifetime artist like Ella,” Lucifer remarked. Alastor snapped his fingers, his eyes gleaming with pure, genuine delight. It was rare to see him so excited about anything that didn’t have anything to do with blood or death, and Lucifer drank it in like a man dying of thirst.

“Exactly,” Alastor grinned. “I see you don’t have completely irredeemable taste in music.”

“She’s fantastic, but you will not believe some of the stuff they have up there now.”

Alastor glanced at him with poorly disguised interest. “You don’t say? Do you happen to listen to these stations quite often?”

“Every night.”

Alastor paused, as if weighing his next words. “Would you mind a little company?”

The smile that exploded from Lucifer was unexpected – but not unwanted. And that was how the king of Hell and the Radio Demon declared a truce every night, between the hours of 12 AM to 1 AM.

—------------------------

“Boy, you’re in for a treat today,” Lucifer said as soon as Alastor walked in. “They’re playing electro swing on 58.3 The Breeze.”

Alastor furrowed his brow. “Electro…swing?” He shuddered. “Sounds positively horrid. Why ruin a perfectly good thing with extra noises?”

“Don’t be such a Debbie Downer,” Lucifer scowled. “Sit down, shut up, and give it a chance, will you?”

To his credit, Alastor did sit and shut up – for approximately ten seconds. Then he groaned. “This is a travesty. They’re calling this garbage swing?”

“Electro swing,” Lucifer corrected.

“No, no, enough of this swill.” Alastor snapped his fingers, and the song immediately cut off. “Let me show what true swing sounds like.”

A moment’s pause, then a new song came on the speakers.

Heaven, I'm in heaven

And my heart beats so that I can hardly speak…

Lucifer perked up. “This is…Louis Armstrong?” Just the sound of his voice brought back whispers of slower times, of smoky jazz clubs and whiskey in crystal glasses, of dreams laid out on silver screens. Suddenly, it was the 1950s again.

Alastor bowed and held out his hand, every move so darkly dashing it would make Fred Astaire weep with envy. But his eyes gleamed with challenge.

Dance with me? Asked Louis and Ella.

Spellbound, Lucifer took the devil’s hand. He placed the other on his shoulder hesitantly, but Alastor’s grip was strong and sure as he slowly led him around the room.

“I want my arms about you, the charms about you will carry me through,” Alastor hummed along. The old-fashioned words were perfect in his radio static, as if the song was made for the two of them, for this very moment.

Relax, you silly goose. He’s just singing the song. He’s not talking about you, Lucifer tried to reason with himself, but it was exceedingly difficult to think straight with Alastor’s face so very close. His voice – oddly lovely for a man who specialized in conducting screams – cast a spell over them. Time stopped. And Lucifer relaxed, letting Alastor’s song chase his worries away.

“Heaven, I’m in heaven!”

—------------------------

And I don't want the world to see me

'Cause I don't think that they'd understand

When everything's made to be broken

I just want you to know who I am

“You’re listening to this again?”

Lucifer blushed and scrambled to change it to another station, but Alastor materialized in front of the radio and covered the fast forward button with his hand before he could get to it. Damn those tricksy shadows of his.

“I…I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Yes, that is one of the benefits of teleportation,” he said, as effortlessly smug as always.

“It’s not our usual time,” Lucifer frowned, peeking at the clock. 10 PM. Far too early for what was quickly becoming his favorite hour of the day, although he’d never admit it out loud.

“Well, I heard a cry for help coming from this room, so I thought I’d be a good neighbor and pop my head in,” Alastor said.

“Cry for help–” Lucifer started indignantly, but Alastor put a finger to his lips.

And the damn song was still playing.

So when everything feels like the movies

Yeah, you bleed just to know you're alive…

Lucifer turned so red his entire face resembled a tomato on fire. “I can listen to whatever I want during my private time,” he spluttered.

“That would be true, but I can hear your ‘private time’ from the other end of the hotel.” Alastor sighed, as if no one else in the history of the world had ever experienced the pain of a noisy neighbor. “So I decided to check on you, just to make sure you hadn’t fully devolved into an angsty child.”

“It’s silly, I know, but sometimes listening to this stuff makes me feel…like I’m not so alone,” Lucifer admitted, not quite able to look the demon in the eye. “It’s been a tough couple of years.” Tough couple of hundred years, but who’s counting?

Alastor didn’t say anything, but he didn’t leave either. Eventually, they turned the radio to another station – Billboard Top 100s, this time – and Alastor’s horrified face at “Think U The Shit (Fart)” made Lucifer laugh so hard water came out of his nose.

He completely forgot about his depression. At least for the rest of the night. And that was enough. That was more than Lucifer had had in a long time.

—------------------------

The next day, Lucifer came back to his room to find an old-fashioned ‘30s vinyl record player perched on his desk. A vinyl had already been set up, its arm perched delicately halfway through a song, ready for Lucifer to hit Play.

Attached to it was a note.

As a thank you for all the new music. -A.

So Lucifer hit Play.

Immediately, the swing of the sax and Ella’s clear, dulcet tones filtered through the speakers.

Blue days

All of them gone

Nothing but blue skies

From now on

I never saw the sun shining so bright

Never saw things going oh-so right

Noticing the days hurrying by

The record stopped there, as abruptly as if the entire track had been magically wiped. No matter how many times he tried to reset it and play it again, that was the only verse on the record.

It didn’t matter. Had Alastor forgotten how ancient he truly was? Lucifer had been around for the dinosaurs, the age of ice, man’s first cities, and the launch to the moon. He remembered the greats, because that was his job. He was to live, and he was to bear witness.

He knew the rest of the song, even if Alastor had gone to such great lengths to erase it.

Noticing the days hurrying by

When you're in love, my how they fly…

He smiled. And he sang along, letting the vinyl spin and spin until the words themselves were nothing but senseless sounds and only Alastor’s promise remained.

“Blue days, all of them gone. Nothing but blue skies, from now on…”

#hazbin hotel #radioapple #duckiedeer #hazbin hotel lucifer #alastor #alastor x lucifer #asks #prompts #on that note this post is definitely OOC on Alastor's part but fuck it sometimes i just wanna write something cute SUE ME #this is an ella fitzgerald appreciation post #also I’m terrible at music would appreciate song recs

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narcissistshandler · 9 months

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Thinkin abt spider noir alot.. idk if you'd write for him but if you do (i think he was on your character list?)

ftm reader with noir.. i feel like he'd be so gentle and caring unless its like been a stressful night, then he'd use your body to take out his stress ♡ perhaps :)

𝗛𝗢𝗪 𝗧𝗢 𝗗𝗘𝗔𝗟 𝗪𝗜𝗧𝗛 𝗦𝗧𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗦

✧ 𝖯𝖠𝖨𝖱𝖨𝖭𝖦 male reader x spider noir (peter parker)

✧ 𝖶𝖠𝖱𝖭𝖨𝖭𝖦𝖲 afab!reader, oral sex (reader receiving), fingering (reader receiving), folds/lips/pussy and such words used to describe/refer the reader's genitalia, pussy slapping (reader receiving), a bit of overstimulation at the end, a little bit of sub!reader but hinted at reader and noir being switches

✧ 𝖠/𝖭 I write to him don't worry ♡ sorry for the delay in the updates, the end of the year is always complicated for me and this has not yet been edited

Being with Noir meant among many things that he needed you. He had made the first move, shown interest in you and always treated you with a kindness and chivalry that sometimes you considered if you weren't having a dream - but when the kisses deepened, your breaths combined quickened and he asked you with his voice dripping desire 'if it was ok to go further', you know, no dream compared to reality.

He needed your company, your presence. You were the only one capable of making that rage that craved in his chest after a hard night, not devour him. It was okay, you liked these two different sides of him and it was great to be able to help him and have his complete and total trust, even when the consequences of being Noir's human stress ball were more physical than anything and most of the time, your night's sleep was completely wasted in favor of fulfilling your boyfriend's urges.

Marks were always left behind the next day, some so striking with the colors deepening or blood pooling on the surface that as if a valve had been turned, the causer of them all couldn't stop asking if you were all right and if he had hurt you. Bites so deep that the imprint of his teeth would be implanted in your skin for days on the inside of your thighs, extremely close to your sex, that always throbbed non-stop after how he touched you.

Apologies weren't necessary though, you always repeated it to him. You had liked it.

Even the way Noir opened the door gave him away. The heaviest steps. The heavy silence as he moved through the house, prowling around you again and again as if you were prey he was planning to pounce on.

Sitting on the couch in the living room, you waited, seeming to be watching the program that was playing on the television, even though your focus had already been diverted.

It took less time than usual, which said something about how Noir's night had gone. He dropped to his knees in front of you, blocking your line of vision, hat and mask discarded, but the rest of spider-man's costume kept and before you could feign irritation, he leaned in and kissed you. It was like he wanted to devour you, stop you from breathing and drown in you. There was no care or gentleness in the way he grabbed your hair and thrust his tongue into your mouth. He smelled of gunpowder and blood.

Foreplay was dropped, the usual patience with which he liked to take things and make it last, gone. You weren't complaining though.

The shorts and underwear you were wearing were pulled down your legs, the ripping sound of fabric seeming to ignite his hurried movements. The urgency with which he wanted you would never fail to turn you on, only you could get that kind of reaction from him.

Noir's slender fingers covered in black gloves grabbed your ankles, lifting your legs so that your feet were resting on the couch. Then his touch descended, fingers digging carelessly into your thighs as his thumbs pulled your folds open, exposing you completely with a methodicality that was almost cold, if not for the hunger in his eyes. Noir moved you like you were a rag doll, positioning you as he wanted.

The night air hit your warm, sensitive skin, still dry but already pulsing with anticipation.

The kiss was broken and you gasped for air, saliva running down your chin. Not a word was exchanged; the voices coming from the television dissolved into a background blur. He crouched down between your legs, eyes dark and heavy; hot breath reaching where you were most sensitive.

There was no teasing or slowing down. He ran his tongue between your folds, getting a taste, before burying himself between your thighs, sucking and licking you as if he needed you to survive.

The air caught in your chest and your legs twitched in his grip, moans and sighs starting to come out of your swollen lips from kisses.

Noir pulled back and before you could make any attempt to regain that stimulation, one of his hands left your leg and came down in a firm, painful slap against your sensitive clit.

Your entire body reacted to the pain, legs shooting together in a feeble attempt to stop the interested yet painful contracting of your stricken clitoris. Noir's control soon returned, spreading your legs apart once more and his tongue flicking against your clit, calming the pain that he himself caused — and that you allowed.

The pain is soon swallowed up by sweet pleasure. His eager mouth explored every inch of your wetness, tongue dancing along your sensitive folds, swirling around your throbbing clit, before sliding down and over the sensitive entrance, working its way inside, first superficially, just the wet tip venturing inside, then deeper, his nose slamming with such violence against your clit that it made your entire body shudder as he tried to press his tongue all the way inside you, licking your sensitive walls.

One of your hands shot into his disheveled hair and your hips rocked back against his mouth, pleasure burning through your veins with a burn that set your skin on fire, your heels digging into the couch for support, legs trembling beside his face.

Your body grew hot under Noir's ministrations, quickly getting wetter and wetter for him and you knew a wet spot would be left behind on the sofa beneath you. You opened your mouth, wanting to say something, anything to him, how good he was, how good he made you feel, that he would make you come soon; but only a breathy sigh sounded in the air joining the wet noise your pussy was making.

Rocking against his face, you dragged yourself against his tongue, which slid in a wet, messy line from your entrance to your clit. You could feel yourself leaking into his mouth and wetting his face, occasionally Noir's nose and chin dragging against your damp, sensitive skin.

Every suck, lick and sloppy kiss takes you higher and higher, pulse pounding in your ears, until you can practically taste the sweet release that hovers just in the back of your dry throat.

You come hard, the muscles in your legs clenching so hard it hurts, your free hand gripping the top of the sofa at your back. A loud moan left your mouth and your fingers tugged hard on Noir's hair, fighting the sensitivity as you continued to rock back against his tongue, extending the delicious orgasm.

Noir closed his full lips around your throbbing clit and sucked, a hint of teeth almost making you kick him if it weren't for his fingers digging into your thighs, preventing you from moving sharply as he drank every drop that came out of you.

You moaned in response, and tried to remind yourself that this was more about him than you — even if it was mostly about his mouth on you.

Just when the pleasure started to get painful, he pulled away and you allowed yourself to take a deep breath. Moisture wet the lower part of his face, Noir licked his lips, eyes fixed on your pulsing sex. One of his hands moved down the inside of your thighs and brushed one of your pussy lips away with his thumb, then reached in and spat.

The action was damn dirty. Your pussy throbbed in time with your stuttering heartbeat, and you both watched Noir's spit slide its way down between your folds, before it could spill out of you, two of his gloved fingers slid from your clit to your entrance, using his spit to ease penetration into your already wet and relaxed hole.

"We're not done yet." Noir finally spoke, his voice sounding low and husky, almost unfamiliar in your ears. As most times, he looked completely composed, even when he was kneeling on the living room floor, his hair disheveled, face wet with your fluids and the heavy black coat like a cape draped over his shoulders and crawling against the floor. One gloved hand digging into your left thigh as his dark eyes watched your hole open to accommodate the fingers of his other hand.

You gasp and whimper, toes curling into the fabric of the sofa as you feel the familiar, cold gloved fingers slip inside you, between your walls rippling with the aftershocks of pleasure. Your head falls back onto the sofa, limp hands finding each other clutching the fabric of the t-shirt you were still wearing, pleasure rippling through your head and overstimulation equal parts painful and blissful.

Subconsciously, your body wanted more and as much as you knew that night was far from over, the idea didn't displease you, you knew Noir needed it, he needed you and you needed him too.

"Yes," you agreed with a sigh, your tone full of erotic amusement. "Until you're tired, dear."

A shadow of a smile tugged at his lips, the first emotion other than irritation he'd shown since returning home. He kissed you, softly, totally contrary to how he pressed his fingers harder inside you, a third and fourth finger pressing against your entrance. Gunpowder, blood, musk and sweat hovering like a perfume around his shadowy figure.

"Do you want a toy? Want me to tie you up?" you questioned, panting against his lips. On nights like this, it wasn't just about Noir getting everything he could from you, it was also about needing you to take everything and then some more from him. "Or anything else? You can tell me."

Noir shook his head, the words still hard to get out. "Not now."

"Not now," you agreed and kissed him one more time, handing over complete control of the situation to him, for now at least.

#x male reader #across the spiderverse x reader #across the spiderverse x male reader #atsv x reader #atsv x male reader #atsv x you #spider noir x you #spider noir x reader #spider noir x y/n #spider noir x male reader #spider noir smut #atsv x y/n #atsv smut

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