#not the point of this post but JUST SAYING
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alottt of transmascs seem 2 think tyhat vocal training is somehow superr hard n super difficult, but its rlly not! i think part of this is in part because of voice instructional videos, half of them are people spouting bullshit or not being descriptive enough, and the other half (by vocal coaches) are loaded with technical termonology witch is missmatched between them, making it very difficult to tell what part of the body they are talking abt
just to preface, you probably will not have an extrordinarily deep voice, but you can absolutely get a passing male voice even if you have a super high pitched voice!
vocal gender is not determined only by how deep your voice is, you can have a high pitched male voice and a low pitched female voice
to give you an example of how much change you can expect, here is my voice, ive been doing vocal training for about 3 years now.
there isnt actually a massive difference in terms of the depth, but there is a noticable difference in terms of masculinity
i sound a little bit uncomfortable in the normal voice example, this is because i pretty much never use my natural voice, so its not my "default" voice anymore
you will not lose your normal voice as you do vocal training, you simply will get better at controling your mouth and throat muscles to make it deeper, so if you are closeted you can still do vocal training while maintaining your higher pitch voice, its a matter of building up a muscle memory, after a while it becomes automatic
the examples were taken like, a minute from eachother, its just moving your mouth in the right way
you can also see i have a bit of a thicker accent while doing my vocal training voice, this is because pronouncing words very clearly and distinctly while also making your voice deeper is very difficult & something i am still working on
note that this is still good to do and to work on even if you plan on going on T !!
unless you have been on puberty blockers or started hrt very very early (at puberty age) then HRT will not be perfect and is not identical to the effects of stereotypical amab puberty, this isnt to say that it wont help, but the differences in larynx height that you will naturally get are not the same intensity as what generally happens in male puberty. this means you will have a higher then average male voice, as well as transmasc voices absent of vocal training generally sound more buzzy and nasaly
here is an example, given by a dear friend of mine who would prefer to be unnamed
this isnt to dunk on anybody who has this kind of voice, i personally like it, but it is clockable if you know what to look for, witch could be unsafe depending on where you live
to start : anatomy
you are not a guitar, youre more like a bottle. to speak you blow air through your windpipe, and depending on the width of your tube/windpipe you will have a lower/ higher pitched sound, your vocal cords/voicebox are a fold in that tube, witch can open and close to constrict or widen your tube
thin tube = higher pitched
wide tube = lower pitched
within stereotypical male puberty, these folds thicken, making them close less easily then thinner folds, making the voice deeper
the opening/closing of the folds is sometimes called the "glottal cycle" and thick folds are are sometimes refered to as having a "high closed quotient"
having thicker vocal folds is something only achivable through testosterone, but you can get a deeper voice by making your tube bigger, sometimes refered to as "lowering your larynx", a lower larynx results in an adams apple, and you can use how much of an adams apple you have during training as a phisical reference point
beside your tube, you have a set of strap muscles, these you can move, its by controlling these that you can hold your tube open. you cannot move your windpipe itself, only the strap muscles
to find your strap muscles, you can do a small excersize
- in a relaxed position and your mouth open, place your hand underneath your collarbone to one side firmly, pinning the skin down
- tilt your head backwards and close your mouth
- hold for a few secconds, then close your mouth and tilt your head back to a normal position
- repeat on other side
you should be able to feel a pulling in the strap muscle on eather side, generally one is tigher then the other. doing this excersise can help you make them a lil more flexable, witch helps you maintain your deep voice when you move your head around
making your voice deeper / lowering the larynx :
on an anatomical level, you are going to control your strap muscles to tug your windpipe downwards, creating more space and a deeper sound
you can feel this in your mouth, use your toungue to feel the bottom of your mouth, this bottom part of your mouth is what you wanna try to make bigger, kindof like a frog
people sometimes refer to this as speaking with a yawn, or liken it to trying to eat something large like a snowglobe, but this is a ultimately harmful way of thinking about it, and generally leads to people moving their larynx and mouth in a way that is straining, not very helpful for making your voice deeper, and also kindof slimey sounding
you should not feel pressure in the back of your throat or the top of your mouth, you should only feel the pulling of your strap muscles and the expanding of the bottom portion of your mouth. below your toungue
if you place your hand where your adams apple would be, you should be able to feel it bulge and tense up when you do this
you can do vocal slides in order to practice this
- drink some water and clear your throat
- take a deep breath and, at a volume and pitch that is comfortable and natural for you, open your mouth and go aaaaaa
- trying to keep your mouth open the same ammount as you go, try and expand your tube, feeling the bottom of your mouth inflate a little, you can feel your throat to have phisical confermation of if you are doing it correctly
- once you have reached the maximum ammount of open that is comfortable for you, try and hold that note as long as you can, being careful not to slide your pitch up
if done correctly it should sound something like :
you need to make sure that you are pacing your air properly, you should be able to hold the note at a consistant volume for the length of the slide
here is an example of a slide done without properly pacing your air, this is called "vocal fry"
you can help avoid this by doing the slide slower, you dont have to rush getting to the lowest note as fast as possible, try not to stress your vocal cords
this slide is very difficult, if you are having trouble, you can modify the excersize
if your issue is keeping your volume consistant, or keeping your jaw open the same ammount, you can do the same thing but humming instead
if your issue is pacing your air, and going into vocal fry, you can do the same thing, but you pant like a dog
being louder / vocal weight :
vocal weight describes how loud you are / how much air you are pushing through your windpipe, if you find you are too quiet, you can try doing a volume slide
- drink some water and clear your throat
- take a deep breath and, at LOW volume open your mouth and go aaaaaa, i would reccomend doing this at your normal pitch
- trying to keep your mouth open the same ammount as you go, increase the ammount of air you let through your lungs, getting louder
- hold it as loud as you can for as long as you can, and once you run out of air you can stop
as with the other slide, you wanna make sure you do this one slowly, and make sure to start the slide at a low volume, this is to help you get more familiar with controlling the ammount of air you let through your windpipe
once you get comfortable with that, you should combine that with the previous slide, and try to expand your tube/ lower your larynx as you get louder
maintaining that depth when speaking :
speaking is the same thing as singing, but it involves way more movement of the mouth, and if you dont change your technique a little between speaking and singing it will sound bad
try to keep in mind the position of your tongue, while flattening it can help with getting the opening of your tube part down, you dont wanna actually talk like that, try to have your toungue in a natural position just resting against your bottom teeth
try not to compress your throat, you shouldnt feel any kind of pressure against your windpipe, you should only feel a pulling in your strap muscles
if you notice your voice sounds slimey or nasaly or muffled, youre focusing a little bit too hard on creating good mouth space that youre messing with your throat space
if you sound slimey, make sure you arent flattening your toungue against the bottom of your mouth, and that you arent straining or over exerting yourself, it shouldnt feel painful or tense at the back of your throat or top of your mouth
if you have a hard time maintaining your voice while doing things you should stretch your strap muscles using the excersize in the anatomy section, if they arent super flexable then its going to be hard maintaining your voice while tilting your head
when you start its gonna be pretty hard, so make sure that you dont overexert yourself or get hyperfixated on having a deep voice 24/7, you dont wanna damage your voice at all
not being embarrassed / practical use :
alot of vocal training excersizes sound pretty stupid, but you dont have to do the excersizes exactly how they are shown here
when doing my vocal training i generally sing or hum to a song, ideally one with alot of sustained notes and that doesnt require very fast pitch changes
if you want a song i like to start with, i like this one by cats millionare, but you can really do whatever song you like as long as it works good for you
while not required having a male vocalist in the song can also help. it helps switch vocal training from a concious effort to a more subconcious thing, because your brain trys to mimic the voice of the people you listen to
with speaking around people i used to feel a little embarrassed about using my deeper voice, because it made me feel like im just like. a stupid little boy trying to make my voice deeper to sound cool. but one thing you have to realize about this kind of thought is that its internalized transphobia
if speaking in a certain way, even if its unnatural, makes you happier then you should do it, the idea of having a "natural" and "unnatural" voice is a common idea in transphobic retoric, this idea that youre "faking" a voice so you can "trick people" into "thinking that youre a different gender"
ultimately, youre doing this to become more happy and comfortable in your voice, and if anybody HAS an issue with that or think that thats stupid, then theyre transphobic, though they probably dont realize it.
if you dont like singing or humming, you can also just speak and read things out, there really is no reccomendation i have for this, maybe get on a call with your friends and play a visual novel or something, reading out all the dialougue. having friends while you do this helps, as you can have them remind you when you start losing or slipping up with the deeper voice
you dont actually have to make sound to vocal train, you can do it in complete silence, anatomically youre just moving the muscles in your mouth a certain way, and the sound part is done by blowing air through, but the making sound part is just the final step of the excersizes and it is optional. you can vocal train in complete silence at any time
i would reccomend doing it with sound to start, but as you get more used to it then you can do it without the sound to practice
most importantly for doing it consistantly though is dont make it a chore to do, while the anatomical and technical aspects are important to learn the most important thing is having it be practical for you to do, so find a method to do it regularly that works for you
you dont have to like, do it 24/7 or anything, though you will build a habit for it quicker if you do. if you need to switch how deep your voice is around family thats not gonna somehow take away your progress
fankyu 4 reading!! if you have any questions pleaseplease ask them and i will try to respond!!
i know theres alot of formatting issues, i tried so hard to fix them but tumblr is just not having it, i dont know why
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You guys really need to stop and consider the ways you're talking about Kabru I am dead fucking serious. Like I know that flattening characters is just what fandom does to a certain extent, but Kabru's actual personality is getting lost to the fandom hivemind insisting that he's aggressive/cruel/sociopathic/hateful, and these are particularly concerning takes to see leveled at the only brown character in the main cast day after day. "My poor sweet golden child Laios needs to be protected from this scary brown man" is not a good look! Like, it's very telling that the bulk of the hate and bad faith readings are reserved for Toshiro and Kabru. Everyone else's flaws get to be discussed and validated and forgiven (or erased), meanwhile people are straight making up things to be mad about with Toshiro and Kabru but patting themselves on the back for being smart.
The worst part is how undeserved it all is. I'm trying to lay off anime-onlys because we're still kind of in the red herring stage of getting to know Kabru, but I would still like to gently suggest that even if you think Kabru is up to something, you don't gave to get in the tags of every fan creator's post and bring up how you hate him or You Can Tell he's totally evil. Sometimes I think Kabru's blue eyes give people license to say things about his appearance that they know would sound completely racist otherwise, but referring to his blue eyes acts as a get-out-of-racism free card. The jokes about the dog with brown contacts are getting old, by the way.
For people who have read the manga, it's disappointing. Kabru is one of the most complex and important characters in the story, and if you base your interpretation of him and all your fandom interactions on shallow first impressions you are completely missing out.
I know part of this is because Dungeon Meshi is a comedy, but the story also wants to be taken seriously. For example, it's admittedly really funny when Chilchuck calls Laios "sick in the head", but that doesn't change the fact that the way Chilchuck casually belittles Laios caused him to hide the fact that he was "hallucinating" from his friends for weeks. Those feelings matter.
Like, this
is funny.
But this?
Is not. This is just a very clear example of a brown boy with PTSD. As someone else with PTSD, just looking at this fucking sucks, man.
The only reason why Kabru thinks about killing Laios is because he is in the middle of a flashback. He's struggling through a panic attack. If he truly wanted to kill Laios because he's violent or because he finds Laios inherently annoying, he wouldn't otherwise talk with Laios normally. Notice how he doesn't act this way at any other point in the story- it's just because he's triggered by monsters. Even when he's thinking about his plans to "deal with" Laios later, he's reluctant to actually kill him and only considers it to prevent another tragedy. Despite his deadly skills, Kabru relies far more on "soft" power- insight, persuasion, diplomacy. He's a rare example of a character who absolutely is, or at least can be, manipulative, but seems to use his abilities for good. He's not a pathological liar, he isn't looking down on everyone behind a smile. He's someone who is extremely emotionally intelligent, and he's willing to put aside all his own basic wants and needs to stop the cycle of dungeons devouring humans.
I'm going to cut a potential thesis on his character short and just give some examples of things that fandom should consider about his personality more:
Racism in fandom isn't just about whitewashing in fan art, or using racial slurs. The insidiousness of bad faith readings, reductions to racist tropes, lack of fan content for characters of color, and dismissal of a character's complexity are far more common. You can believe yourself to be completely neutral or even positive about a character and still churn out low-grade bile about them into fandom's collective unconscious. Fandom reflects real life.
And I have been around fandom long enough to see how these behaviors (mostly from my fellow white fans) affect fans of color, how it makes a fandom feel hostile and unwelcome to them. It's fun to make jokes and memes, I'm absolutely not saying that everything needs to be a deeply nuanced take, but we need to be careful that it doesn't veer into toxicity. Please think about how our contributions to fandom come across, and what sort of vibes they cultivate in this communal space.
#Dungeon Meshi#Kabru#Kabru of Utaya#Dungeon Meshi meta#I'm putting it in the tag. I'm making you look at it.#if you come into my inbox to bitch about this just know that people used to send me b*heading videos in there for similar racist reasons#so I will not be impressed#I'm in a fucking time loop someone get me out!!!!#musings with Dea
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okay so a very long post incoming.
the shock still hasn’t worn off. i asked misha about bi buck after days. weeks. of talking about it as a hypothetical and i got the BEST answer ever and caused extreme disarray in the destiel fandom.
people in my discord group can attest how often i was like ‘ooh i hope someone asks misha in a panel this weekend.’ ‘maybe we can all go in on a cameo and ask him that way instead?’ i was pretty annoying about it, i just. i NEEDED TO ASK.
so i got to the con thinking if only i could ask a question. then i went to misha’s solo panel but didn’t line up for some reason and then by the end, i regretted it because there was no last question and even misha commented on it. i thought damn now i only have tomorrow’s panel to do it. but i wrote down my question anyways and i thought i’m already here, i have to at least TRY.
i complained to my mother about how i really wanted to ask a question, but no way could i tell her i wanted to ask about buck and tommy kissing and destiel. she doesn’t even know destiel is a thing and she would not approve if she did. but i went to the panel by myself, luckily she didn’t have a ticket to the con anyways so she just waited in the hotel lobby after checking out (which was her choice. she listened to misha’s first panel on saturday from outside the room and didn’t want to sit through one again)
anyways so i go to the tomer/karen panel that was before his panel, and i’m on the right side right at the back, the complete opposite side where the people who ask questions are. then towards the end of that panel i move to the left side. i’m still at the back but i’m at the end of the row so i can easily move when i need to. then when the panel ends i go to ask a person who works at the con about asking a question. she says there are still people who didn’t get to ask their questions yesterday so they get priority, and the rest aren’t lining up yet. now i’m pretty confused because there was a distinct lack of questions at the end yesterday but whatever.
so i go to sit back down but there’s a line of people right where the question line was on saturday, so i join it thinking just in case she was wrong. well more people start to line up and she says ‘nobody is lining up to ask yet!!’ and i’m like okay so it’s fine, we really aren’t going yet.
then i sit back down and a few minutes later i see her directing like 4 or 5 people onto seats after she raises a paper saying ‘reserved for questions’ or something like that. so i think okay it’s my chance. i go up and she directs me into these seats that are closer to the front and is filled with like TEN people who are sitting in that ‘reserved for questions’ section. i think oh my god. there are so many people here. i text the discord saying ‘IM IN THE LINE.’
then the panel starts and i’m like okay well i’m towards the end and i’m close to the front now, i’ll take some pics. and as people ask their questions and sit in their original seats, we have to keep moving along the row of seats so we keep getting closer to the middle near the mic.
but then there’s half an hour and one of the people working for the con comes and says to the girl after me in the queue and the people behind her that they weren’t gonna get to ask. she tells the people at the front of the queue ‘i think just the first few of you will get to ask’ - at this point i’m like the 5th/6th in line (after the person at the mic and the person waiting behind them) so i’m not very optimistic at all. and then.
so i tell my discord ‘yeah i don’t think i’m gonna get to ask’ because i’m still pretty far from the end by the mic.
and then the panel goes on and there ends up being two people, one at the mic, one standing behind them. and one of the people working for the con tells me, THE NEXT PERSON IN LINE, ‘sorry, you won’t get to ask.’ and i am DEVASTATED. i tell the discord ‘yeah i’m definitely not gonna ask.’
i’m thinking I SERIOUSLY just wasted this whole panel shuffling seats and worrying for nothing (i had also just left my bag with all my stuff on a random seat!) so i sit there annoyed and sad for a minute until i see sean (the con organiser) by the stage and he tells her that i can go up last i guess. so she comes up to me and tells me i will be up next and to stand behind the people at the mic and i’m SHAKING.
i get in the line and i text on the discord that i’m the last question.
then i stand there listening to the questions before me just thinking oh my god misha is right there and i’m gonna be the last question and oh my god it’s gonna be such a good question. because i saw how much chaos misha caused with his questions on saturday and in this panel i don’t think anyone asked about destiel. so i thought!!! this is gonna be good!!!
and then i get to the mic and they’re all on stage and sean is next to it and says it’s the last question so it’s gotta be a good one. and then alex and rob and misha are all like oohhh it’s the last question but then MISHA. FUCKING. comes off the stage and comes up to me holding the mic and is two feet from me and looks me in the eyes and says ‘don’t fuck it up.’ but i’m like it’s on my phone! i got it written down! and well you’ve all seen the pictures of him looking right into my eyes but i’ll show you again.
so the first two four of these next photos we were making eye contact. i remember when he came up to me i was looking at all the lines on his face thinking man he’s so pretty and he’s right in front of me what the fuck.
but in these last two i wasn’t looking at him. he was just looking at me. which is just insane to see in retrospect.
after this i think he went back to the stage and i was like okay this last question is for misha and he cheered i guess. i think i blacked out tbh.
now when he got back to the stage i think this was when rob started singing the last question song because i remember thinking like damn i need to ask this question before i cry or something. misha was just standing there and looking at me - from the stage this time and i was. freaking out.
after that singing was done i said ‘this question is kinda about destiel, just to warn you in advance.’ and then apparently rob said ‘perfect last question’ and i started asking my question.
i started with saying ‘so there’s this show called 911’ and SO many people started cheering. i was immediately so much more comfortable because i could tell people would know where this was going. especially when after i carried on with: ‘it moved networks from fox to abc in it’s 7th season. and there’s a main character named buck who in the 4th episode kissed another man’ and then people started cheering AGAIN.
and anyways you all know the rest by now. i said ‘the actor who played him reported that they wanted to do something like it earlier in the show, but when they moved networks they were allowed to make it happen. if supernatural moved networks earlier on, or if it was made later on, do you think something like that could have happened with dean and cas?’
and we ALL know misha’s reply by now. ‘if the cw wasn’t so homophobic, dean and cas would have been balls deep for sure.’ i vividly remember being like OH MY GOD (in my head) and then i put my head in my hands a little and apparently. so did misha. which is to be expected i mean that was wild.
after that he said he was gonna actually give a semi earnest answer and said some things that are shown in these tweets. i remember bits and pieces because i was trying to hold eye contact with misha but i occasionally looked down and played with the mic a little but didn’t want to seem too uninterested. i loved his answer. the thread in this tweet has the general gist of it.
and if you wanna see the question i had written down and open on my phone, which i edited RIGHT before the panel as you can see from the timestamp (don't judge me for the second question it was just a backup) and a picture of misha looking at my phone. here it is.
#cr8#misha collins#destiel#spn#long post#sorry for not writing his whole answer out myself i wish i recorded it somehow because i forgot all the little detaiks#i’ll remember someday i guess#and if you read this whole thing. i salute you
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🪓 — Canon Facts About Ticci Toby
all of these are directly stated by kastoway himself in deviantart posts/comments, instagram stories, or tobys canon story
I. Toby has a split eyebrow from the car crash
II. He only attended grade school for a short time when we was 12 before being homeschooled due to bullying
III. Kastoway describes Toby's eye colour as "dark brown/black"
IV. Kastoway created Toby as a fan character when he was 12 just for fun. He never expected him to get the attention that he did
V. Toby was stated to be 19 in 2013, which means Toby was born on April 28th, 1994. Today he'll be turning 30 years old
VI. In Toby's age chart, he is shown to be in a straitjacket at 30 years old, and described to "not have much time left on his plate", "any bit of sanity in him is probably gone", and "lives out the rest of his days in a mental asylum and/or gets put down"
VII. He has little to no memory of his life before becoming a proxy
VIII. When he was a toddler, he'd carry around a cow stuffie and put bandaids all over it
IX. Toby was killed by Clockwork, who was possessed by Zalgo, sometime between ages 19-25 (presumably 20-22). Kastoway had vague plans for Toby to "miraculously survive" and live up until around 30 years old, with no contact to the others
X. Toby chews his hands to the point of eating his own flesh, which is why he wears gloves
XI. He is born and raised in Denver, Colorado, USA. He has German ancestry
XII. His theme song is noted to be "I'm Not Alright" by Shinedown
XIII. His personality is described to be, "volatile, friendly at times, sarcastic at times, natural born trouble-maker, mostly up-beat"
XIV. In an older, outdated reference sheet, his friends are listed as "Jeff The Killer, BEN, BOB, Smile Dog, Slenderman, Splendorman, Mr. Widemouth, Ragface, Eyeless Jack", and his rivals are listed as "The Rake, Masky, Enderman, Zalgo"
XV. His mask is a mouth guard, like the one Hannibal Lecter wears
XVI. He is canonically shipped with Clockwork
XVII. Toby has "big ass eyebrows" (Kastoways words himself)
XVIII. Toby doesn't hate Masky, he just acts like an annoying little brother around him because he's jealous that Slender favours him. He's chill around Hoodie, but they don't talk much
XIX. Kastoway was inspired by Marble Hornets to create Ticci Toby
XX. Toby's tics are described as to "uncontrollably crack his neck, twitch around, bend over backwards"
XXI. In his updated appearance (the sketch made by Kastoway in 2014 with the cheek gash), he's described to be in his early 20s. He also said he was thinking of having the cheek gash be caused by the fire, but said that Toby eating through his own cheek was "a really good idea"
XXII. Toby was originally going to be a cannibal before Kastoway put the idea on the back burner, though he says "he'll eat some of the things he kills kind of like Eyeless Jack"
XXIII. He had CIPA, Tourettes, Schizophrenia and PTSD after the car crash
XXIV. His older sisters name is Lyra, his mothers name is Connie, and his father is canonically unnamed (though he's typically called Frank by the fandom, this is not stated by Kastoway)
XXV. He was originally going to be 5'4....... But ended up being made 5'6 (lucky bastard)
Thats all I can think of right now... Happy Birthday Toby
#tombtalk#creepypasta#creepypasta fandom#ticci toby#creepypasta headcanon#ticci toby headcanons#toby rogers#creepypasta ticci toby#ticci toby creepypasta#ticcitoby#ticci toby facts
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Finally~
I wanted to make a little something to say "Thank you for reading" to cap off WYS! Excuse me while I get mushy for a second-
Y’all are the reason this was able to get done. Your enthusiasm for updates and how the story unfolded really means so much to me. It was the little things that kept me motivated, even during the long hiatus. Seeing you guys pick up and point out little details sprinkled throughout the comic always made my day and gave me a sense of validation. Reactions to things like the surprise of Sans’ nightmare or Grillby’s comfort all made me super happy. And you guys gave the finale pages the sweetest reception I could ask for. l'm so grateful that you stuck around for the whole thing!
Overall, I’m very pleased with how this turned out! Interestingly, the main thing I’d want to change if given the chance is how I wrote Sans and Grillby themselves. Especially Sans’ dialogue. My characterization of them has changed quite a bit over the years (hard to tell bc I don’t draw them a lot atm). But that can’t really be helped. Just like the way that my art style changed over time. Hindsight does that stuff all the time. Nitpicking aside, I stand by the creative decisions made by 2019 Me
The funny part is that the original comic was 17 pages and I got them all done before hand so I wouldn't run into the issue of falling into a hiatus between pages!!! If y'all are interested in a bts post, I’ll try to dig up those og pages from my old computer. And maybe I'll show the even rougher epilogue draft I threw together for shits and giggles to see if I could get the page count to 69
Sansby has already been super special to me for a long time, finally getting this done and seeing the response strengthened that. I’ve had so many people find me through WYS over the years, it blows my mind. The messages from people who hold it dear really means the world! Without you guys this comic wouldn’t be what it is now. Thanks for Staying~
#undertale#sans#grillby#sansby#will you stay comic#fanart#digital art#procreate#artists on tumblr#long post
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Bon Appétit~
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Alastor x Female!Reader
| Warnings: 18+ content. MDNI!! ooc Alastor, established relationship(kinda), quick smut with no plot, biting, blood, cunnilingus, fingering, hair tugging etc |
Hello, I’m Nym! This is my first time posting my writing ever!
This horny little community has me so inspired I couldn’t help but write something small. (4,666 words to be exact ;3 tried to get the funny devil number).
Also fair warning I wrote this a bit intoxicated so I apologize if it’s poorly written. But I hope you heathens enjoy it nonetheless <3
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Alastor retired to his tower as soon as the sky turned to a dark burgundy. He sat on his bench in front of his radio equipment. Fountain pen in hand and eagerly doodling away with a calm smile. Coat retired to its stand and his sleeves rolled to his elbows. Finding these late nights to be rare moments when he could allow himself to relax.
Though both his pen and music paused as he heard the trap door rustle behind him. “Hm?” Amused, he set his pen down and sits up from the bench. Coming around to the hatch he stood right beside it. A deep inhale taken as his grin grew recognizing the familiar smell of you. Bending at his hips as one hand swiftly opened the door. The other hand held out to offer assistance to his surprise guest.
The sudden opening of the hatch earned a gasp from you. Nearly losing your grip on the metal bars that you climbed up. You blinked at the hand offered to you before smiling and accepting the help eagerly.
“Now what do I owe this pleasure?” His usual cheery showman tone buzzed in your ears. With ease, he helped pull you up through the trap door, kicking it closed after. His eyes curiously noted the wicker basket you held in your other arm. “Well no wonder you had difficulty coming in!”
You chuckled nervously as he immediately points out the basket you brought. But what else did you expect? It’s Alastor, perceptive as ever. “The climb wasn’t so hard but by the time I had reached the door I was pretty tired…” you admitted with a glance running up his unusually relaxed form. His grin somehow managed to only make your own smile increase. “I hope I wasn’t interrupting anything important. I couldn't sleep and thought I could just drop in and say hello!" You watched as one of his brows rose, earning an audible swallow from you. "Well, actually, I haven’t seen much of you today... or this week really. So I was honestly getting a bit curious about what you've been up to.” You wiggled the basket to him before setting it down on a small side table. “This is my apology for bargin’ on in.”
“Like always I appreciate your honesty, dear.” He folded his arms behind his back as he followed you to the table. With your back turned to him he took the time to slowly look you up and down. Noting the sweet white nightgown you wore that ended right above your knees. Your hair was tied back in a loose bun and you were wearing your slippers. All of this told him you really were in bed before deciding to come to him. His thoughts hesitated when he watched you open the basket. Pulling out a glass decanter of whisky and two matching cups to go with it.
You turned to face him, jumping slightly when you realized he had moved so close to you. With a laugh you waved him off. “Why don’t you put on some tunes for us, yeah?”
A staticky hum left him as he watched you for a few more seconds. He’d nod softly before spinning on his heels to do as you requested. One hand manually turning the music back on while the other subtly snapped behind his back. The music loud enough to just barely cover the sound of the hatch door locking.
He leaned against the desk of his radio station and watched you again. His grin soft as he couldn’t help but relax even more with the jazz on. “So! You really don’t have anything you wanted to talk about? Truly just stopping by to see what I’m doing ?” He pushed, teasingly.
You poured each other a glass before approaching him with his. He nodded in thanks as he took it from you. “Ha ha! No...” You stood in front of him with both hands nervously around your cup. His pointed questioning had you avoiding eye contact as you downed the small drink in one gulp. Fighting to not contort your face from the bitter taste.
He couldn’t help but laugh into his glass as he brought it up to his lips. “Really?” You caught his piercing gaze that was sent over the cup, before you watched him take a sip. “Because a nice glass of rye, jazz and sweet company.” He stares into his glass before flicking his gaze down to you again. “I really can’t help but feel like you’re trying to sweeten me up~”
The look he sent down had heat quickly washing over your body. Feeling the warmth settle on your cheeks and between your hips. He was teasing you but he didn’t seem upset by your presence. That thought seemed to encourage you, though you definitely needed another drink before you spilled your guts.
A nervous smile being sent to him as you put your finger up. “One- one moment.” You quickly approached the decanter where you left it on the side table. Your cup was filled with just a shot as you quickly knocked it back.
He finished his own drink before mindlessly setting the empty cup on the desk behind him. His smile stretched into a wide grin as he watched you desperately try to gain some liquid courage. He could easily help you right now, as he had an assumption on what this was about. There was no denying the odd connection the two of you had developed during your time here. Unfortunately, he was thoroughly enjoying watching you squirm and he was a very patient man when it came to torture.
Which is exactly what this felt like to you, torture. Staring into the empty cup for only a moment longer before leaving it on the table with the basket. You took rushed steps back up to Alastor as you shot your gaze up to meet his.
“Go on, darling, speak your mind.” He encouraged you with a shit eating grin. Your embarrassment and nervousness began to twist and settle in your stomach.
“I…” you slowly started, watching him tilt his head. Your gaze quickly shot to the side as the rest of your words came out rushed. “I would like to touch you-“
His brows shot to his hairline as he stiffened. He knew your intentions were along these lines. However, the sudden bluntness still caught him off guard.
A nauseating silence settled between the two of you, save for the jazz that still played in the background. You began regretting saying anything as your mouth opened to try and form words. You wanted to take it back with every fiber of your being. Eyes still glued to anywhere that wasn’t him. “I-uh wait no. I don’t mean like that- well I wouldn’t mind but- what I mean is- look you don’t have to say anything I know it’s a strong no and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable but I just needed to be honest-“
Alastors eyes never left you as he watched your reactions carefully. You never could lie to him and when you did it was never for long and never done well. So he knew your intentions were pure and your words were genuine. Usually, he wouldn’t even bother thinking it over. It never seemed of any interest to him in all his prior years of living and death. However, with you? He found himself weighing his options. Because he also wanted to touch you. He wanted to invade your personal space more than he would usually. You were different to him, it was apparent since day one.
“Alright.” he watched you snap your gaze up to him so suddenly he could’ve sworn he heard your neck crack. Shock written over your features as he pushed himself off from leaning against the desk.
“Wait, what?” You asked stunned as your eyes followed his movements. His body shifted slightly to the bench right beside him, smoothly lowering to sit.
“I’m giving you permission, my dear.” After making himself comfortable he motioned you to come closer. Obediently, you shuffled slowly up to him as he spoke again. “Although we will need to discuss terms first.”
You stopped a foot from his seated form. “Terms?” You questioned half listening. You were more focused on greedily taking in his relaxed state. Shamelessly appreciating the sight of him, no doubt thanks to the two drinks. Your eyes were on his lap, scanning down his exposed forearms and stopping on his large hands that ended with sharp red tips.
“Yes, darling, terms.” He noticed your eyes on other parts of him. Slightly bothered you weren't focused on what he was saying. His hand you were staring at quickly snapped at you and gestured to look up at him. “You didn’t think I’d give you such an honor without getting something in return, did you?” His words were laced with venomous mockery.
With your eyes now held with his you hesitated to speak. Feeling your cheeks start to burn more. “I didn’t.. expect to get to at all, so…” your words were so quiet and uncertain. His ears flicked atop his head as he tried to hear you clearly over the music.
“Speak up, dear, you must use your words properly if we are going to do this.” He leaned back into the bench as he glanced you up and down. Allowing you to deliciously simmer in your own embarrassment. “My terms are rather simple. If I allow you to touch me-“ he placed a hand against his chest. “Then it’s only fair I get to touch you too, right my dear?” Dramatically his hand flicked from his chest to gesture to you. Palm being held out for you to accept. “Deal?”
You swallowed dryly as you stared at his large hand. “You want to touch me?” Eyes flicking between his black palm and his red half-lidded gaze. “And we get like.. free roam? Touch.. anywhere?” The mere thought of having his hands on you had you pressing your thighs together. In this moment, you would let him do anything he wanted to you without hesitation. What you were really worried about was his comfort. If you were to upset him by making him uncomfortable, you’d want to die, again.
A static heavy chuckle was forced from him. The fingers on his outstretched hand flexed impatiently. “I wouldn’t say it’s a want from me.” He lied. “Rather so, curiosity? Yes, let's call it curiosity.” Even now he was going to ensure he had the upper hand. “But if you don't want me touching you and you’d rather just chinning*..” his offered hand curled his fingers in and then withdrew to his lap. “No skin off my nose, dear.”
Physically witnessing his hand draw back had panic rising in you. Like this rare opportunity was about to be lost forever. He watched amused as your eyes widened and you stumbled forward slightly with the force in which you spoke. “NO-“ you both cringed at the sudden rise in volume. “No- I’m sorry. It’s not that I don’t want you to- it’s quite the opposite actually..”
He watched you shuffle closer until your knees hit his. Again, he noticed your gaze lingered on other parts of him rather than his eyes. “Then spill. What do you want?”
You chewed nervously on your bottom lip. “I.. I want your touch on me, Alastor. More than my want to touch you. You’d turn Hell into Heaven if I could only have your attention on me..” His smile widened when you finally raised your eyes to meet his again. “But I’m worried about upsetting you, Alastor. Having permission to freely touch you seems…too good to be true? And to hear you intend to touch me as well? Whether it’s a want or just curiosity I could care less. Fuck, Al, I’ll feed that curiosity however you want.”
A genuine and loud laugh rumbled from his chest. “Oh ho! what a desperate and pathetic display you are giving me.” He cocked his head to the side and narrowed his eyes on you. “What can I say? I suppose I’m feeling rather charitable tonight.” Slowly he leaned forward, his hands sliding down his thighs. His fingers gently wrap around your wrists. Watching carefully for any resistance to his touch. “And I promise, Mon Cher, I’ll let you know if I don’t like something. So you needn’t worry about upsetting me.” Truthfully, he’d be quick to wrench your hands away from any area he didn’t like. “You’ll do the same for me, right?”
With a sneaky smirk he brought your hands to his face. Gently grazing his lips across your knuckles. You couldn’t stop the shiver that ran down your spine as you watched him breathlessly. To his surprise though you shook your head no. “I won’t need to.”
A sadistic glint shined in his ruby eyes as he smirked against your hands. The gentle kindness he planned on showing you began to slip. “Oh? Is that so?” A sudden yank of your wrists had you falling into his chest. His warm hands glided down from your wrists to help guide your knees on either side of him. He fussed with your positioning until he was satisfied with your thighs straddling his lap. Taking a gleeful glance at your flustered expression and rigid body. “You sound so certain. What if I wanted to eat you whole? What would you say then?”
He leaned back into the bench as he observed you intently. Heat settled over your entire body as you stiffly fidgeted on top of him. Embarrassed, you didn’t want to rest your full weight on him. But his hands had a firm grip on your hips, pressing you down ever so slightly to keep you in place.
Sweaty hands hesitantly came to rest on his chest, fingers gently crawling up to the top of his shoulders. “What would I say?” your words slipped from your lips like a whisper. Your desire and need for him outweighed your nerves drastically. His hands squeezed the flesh at your hips when he felt you finally relax into him. Entranced, he watched a soft smile settle on your face before you spoke. “Bon Appétit.”
Chest heaving, nostrils flaring and eyes like a hungry animal. With those words, something snapped in him. It quite literally took everything in him in that moment to not simply swallow you whole right then and there.
His jaw clenched as a loud static began to swarm around the two of you. He felt his mouth water as he swallowed, having to clear the excess saliva that pooled around his tongue. Savor her, he repeated in his head, you must savor your meal. The buzzing static overtook the music completely until it disappeared with a loud pop, earning a flinch from you. His mouth opened with a purr “Merci.”.
Your breath hitched as he leaned down to close the space between you two. His warm lips ghosted across your own, so close yet so far. Every coherent thought you once had was muddled and drowned. The unexpected intimacy that Alastor was giving you had your heart hammering against your ribs. In that moment you decided firmly, you’d completely give in to him and this desire.
One hand of his shifted from your hip and up your side. Talons trailing up until his fingers laced in your hair, pulling the tie that held it up. As you felt your hair fall freely you tried to close the space between you completely. Lips hungrily wanting to capture his.
He was quick, however, as the hand that remained at the back of your head tightened its grip. Fingers firmly tugging at the roots to guide your head back. A desperate whine leaving you as he forced your lips away from his. “What happened to both of us getting to touch? Or is kissing off limits?” You asked half joking as he dipped his head to place a soft kiss under your jaw. His lips settled comfortably on your now exposed throat as he inhaled deeply.
“You are touching, mon cher. A lot more than anyone else has.” He reminded you with a smirk against your flesh. You felt his lips part as warm breath ghosted the vulnerable skin of your throat. Your fingers trailed further up from his shoulders and up the back of his neck. You shuddered against him as his warm tongue licked a wet strip up. “I wonder, do you taste as delicious as you smell?”
“Al-“ you let out a sharp yelp as you feel a hot stinging pain begin to bloom on your shoulder. Instinctively, with your fingers in his hair, you tried to yank his head away much like he did to you. But he refused to be removed from his tasty meal. He let a low growl out with his lips still suctioned to you, a warning. You hadn’t expected him to literally taste you but it was foolish of you to expect anything less from a cannibal.
Your thoughts began to fog as you felt him suck the blood from your wound. His cock twitched beneath you as if the blood he drank from you went straight to his groin. Any previous intentions on partaking on your end of the deal was long gone. You couldn’t care less about where your hands were. The only thing that mattered now was that his hands remained on you.
You bit your lip trying to hold in the small yelps in pain as he attacked the wound he made. Prodding and poking trying to coerce as much blood as he could without literally tearing a chunk from you.
Desperately, needing more than just his feasting mouth, you rolled your hips against his. You stuttered your movements as he sunk his teeth deeper into you in response. Another whimper left your parted lips as his name tumbled out like a prayer. “Alastor-“
He sighed through his nose, having to will himself to release your tasty flesh. Slowly blinking his eyes open as he lifted up with a suctioned pop. Leaning back to take in the beautiful sight of your bloody and bruised shoulder. He watches closely as beads of red quickly begin to pool and drip over your collar bone. Bleeding into the pure white of your nightgown.
“Beautiful, Mon Cher, absolutely beautiful.” His lips parted to show a bloody grin. His eyes were glazed over as if the taste of you was more intoxicating than the drink he had a moment ago. “You did so good.” You felt his grip in your hair loosen as his fingers brushed through. With his now free hand he began to smear the blood on your shoulder, earning a wince from you. “I think you deserve a reward, don’t you?” His hand cupped your cheek and you could feel your blood sticking your flesh to his, like glue. He pulled at your bottom lip with his thumb as he brought his face close to yours again. “Do you want a taste?”
Before you could even begin frantically nodding, he already captured your lips in his. Pulling back just enough to use his thumb to wrench your mouth open. You gave him no resistance as he dove back in. His tongue eagerly exploring the entirety of your mouth. Spreading the taste of your own blood.
He swallowed a muffled moan as both hands slipped to your hips. Fingers digging into clothed flesh as he grinded you into him. “See?” His lips parted from yours with a pink tinged dribble of saliva connecting you to him. “Delicious, aren’t you?”
Quickly, you licked the bloody spittle on his lips. “If I say yes will you-“ a moan interrupted your sentence as his hands continued to grind you against his hardened cock. “-f-fuck please just fucking touch me-“
“I am touching you, mon cher.” His hands slowed to grind on him at an agonizing pace. The friction slick as you fully drenched your panties and began to seep into the front of his pants. “Remember, use your words.”
“Alastor, p-please-“ your words trembled as you tried to retain some sense of composure. But the teasing feeling of him beneath his pants was going to drive you insane. With a shaky breath you leaned away from him. One hand grasping the hem of your nightgown and yanking it up to your chest. Your other hand sliding fingers under the hem of your underwear to pull them down ever so slightly. His gaze shooting down immediately to take in the erotic sight of your pubic hair barely poking out. “Please just eat me already.”
“How could I say no when you’re pleading so sweetly?” In a blink of an eye he had his hands holding you against him. With a chuckle he stood from the bench, his hands cupping your ass to carry you with him. Your own hands quickly grab his shoulders to keep yourself from falling.
You’re swung around as you hear crashing behind you. Alastors shadow-y tendrils quickly swiping his desk clear in order to make space for you. A gasp leaving you as your back is dropped onto the hard surface with a thud. His hands holding your legs at his hips by the pits of your knees. His taller frame towering over you as you lay sprawled under him.
The grin that spread across his face had you squirming. His warm hands pull you by your legs until your ass is completely off the desk. With only your upper half resting against the hardwood, your stomach does flips, feeling like you’ll fall. But his hold on you is firm as he lowers to his knees. Effortlessly, your legs are settled over his shoulders. You’re practically panting in anticipation as you feel him chuckle against your inner thighs. “Nervous, dear? You’re shaking.”
“Shut up-“ A groan is ripped through clenched teeth as he sinks his teeth into the plump flesh of your right thigh. Hissing, you latch your hand into his hair. He gave no reaction to your grip as he enjoys lapping at the new wound. One of his hands sliding up to give your ass a good squeeze.
You hadn’t realized you were clenching your eyes closed until they flew open. Your back arching off the desk as your breathing hitched. The feeling of his warm tongue running up your clothed slit had you feeling sparks. The blood on his tongue seeped into the already damp fabric, adding another stain to you. “F-Fuck- Jesus Christ-“ he ran his tongue up again slowly, ending with a nice flick to your clit.
“Careful, if you moan other men’s names I’ll become rather jealous.” He hummed against your left thigh as he weaseled a hand between your legs. Sharp talons grabbing hold of the fabric of your underwear and tearing it enough to freely expose his meal.
It was a struggle keeping your eyes opened as you leaned your head forward. Freezing, as you were met with Alastors gaze sent over your exposed sex. He was watching you intently as he brought his face closer to your aching core. “I-I think I’d like to see you jealous.”
“I’m sure you would, you naughty thing.” Finally, without anything blocking his touch, you felt him lap his wet muscle up between your folds. A wispy moan leaves your lips as you remove your hand from his hair. Fingers reaching back to ground yourself against whatever you could on his desk.
The taste of you saturated over his taste buds as a pleased groan rumbled in his chest. His hands wrap around your upper thighs in order to hold you in place. His eyes flicked up trying to see what he could of your reactions. He gave up rather quickly though, losing himself to you fully now.
The juxtaposition of his agonizing teasing now being replaced with determined hunger was almost overstimulating. You couldn’t stop the shake in your legs as he twisted his tongue inside of you. The unnatural length of it reached further than you expected.
His name tumbled from your lips so sweetly it only made him crave your taste more. Fingers digging into your hips as he pressed his face deeper into you. Suffocating himself on your scent as his tongue twisted and flicked inside. When his nose pressed against your clit he felt your walls clench. A cheeky smirk forming against your lower lips. A shudder ran down your spine when you felt his tongue slip out from you. But you didn’t feel empty for long as he easily slipped a finger into you, a second quickly following. You felt yourself forgetting how to breathe as he ruthlessly pumped his fingers into your heat. Erotic squelching filled the small space of his radio room. You hadn’t realized until now that the music was off, ensuring he could hear every sound your body offered him.
His tongue lazily licked your juice from his lips as his eyes flickered between wanting to peer at your face and wanting to watch your sweet pussy taking his fingers so well. “Good girl. Such a good girl, my dear.” You were a moaning mess, unable to respond any other way to his praises.
Your entire body tensed as he brought his lips back to your needy cunt. His mouth suctioned around your sensitive clit. Tongue swiping and flicking, assaulting the bundle of nerves. His fingers stopped their pumping as he pressed as deep into you as he could, fingers bending and focusing on a specific spot. He hummed casually as if he wasn’t making you see stars.
Your body lurched forward as both hands flew to grip his hair. “F-FUCK- A-Ah fuck.” He felt your walls clench around his fingers, cock twitching knowing he had you on that cliff. “So close- please p-please-“
“Hm? Wanting to cum already?” His tone was patronizing as he lifted his mouth from you. A whiny sound coming from you as that build up dimmed slightly, keeping you just before that edge. “I’ll allow it. Only if you’re a good girl and say my name as you cum, understand?”
“Y-Yes- just please-please please-“ Another pleased hum rumbled from him as he lowered back to your sopping heat. His lips suctioned around your clit once more, continuing to stimulate both spots. It only took a moment longer and you finally reached your peak. “ALASTOR-“ A pathetic mewl ripped from your throat as it crashed over you in waves. Every muscle in your body tensed, walls clenching and twitching around his fingers as he helped you through your orgasm. His mouth popping off of you as he wore a wide smirk, lips and chin glistening from the mixture of you and his own saliva.
His fingers didn’t stop massaging your walls until he felt your body relax. Only then did he slip his digits out to greedily lick them clean. His tongue finds its way back to the bite on your thigh. Lapping at the wound while it was still weeping blood. “Thank you for such a delicious meal, my dear.” He would purr as you were still trying to catch your breath. Shifting he moved your legs off from his shoulders in order to stand back up. His warm hands wrapping your legs around his waist as he stepped forward leaning into you. He helps lift you up just enough to scooch you fully on the desk once more. Your eyes lazily watch him loom back over you as you try to sit up on your elbows. His smile devious as he slips his red talons under his suspenders, slowly slinking them off of his shoulders as he purred down to you. “What do you say, darling, are you ready for dessert?”
And you then knew that your night was far from over…
————————————————————
*Chinning: 20s slang meaning ‘talking’.
#alastor#hazbin hotel#alastor the radio demon#alastor x reader#alastor smut#alastor x you#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel smut#alastor x reader smut
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BOY NEXT DOOR 7 - ( c.s )
part six
summary- you and your roommates live beside a bunch of senior hockey players, one of them being the infamous team captain chris sturniolo. he’s effortlessly flirty and undeniably attractive, but he’s also a pain in your ass. you find that you have to fight between lust and hatred as you finally get to know the boy next door, whether you want to or not.
warnings- cursing, smut (oral m!receiving)
a/n: part 7 bay beeeee let’s get it, they’re falling yall 😳
@fawnchives @teapartyprincess4two @55sturn @l9vesick @mattinside @sturnioloco @rootbeerworshiper @stonermattsgf @dazednmatthews @chrisactualwife @mattybsbitch @mattsmunch @breeloveschris @sturnifyed @julessspoetry @beijhe @luckistar-posts @gnxosblog @braindead4l @hearts4matty @orangeypepsi @ponyosturniolo @cupidsword @rainydayenthusiast @sturnvvz @wurlibydominicfike @poopydroopt @bernardsleftbootycheek @trilliwarner @rubyjanexxx @reallykaz @sturnlvrs @neatcarrot767 @kirby0strombolli @bunnysturns @junnniiieee07 @hrt-attack @sturnssmuts @stunza @beccaluvschris @asturniolos @slutz4sturniolos @mattslolita @alorsxsturn @sturnrc @chrissystur @kellsbells-18
the following week and a half are a complete haze. between classes and schoolwork and hanging out with chris, it’s been a whirlwind of both pleasure and stress, but you’re not complaining about it.
it’s the most fun you’ve had with a guy in a minute, the most fun you’ve had with anyone in a minute period.
you catch yourself smiling at your phone in class when he texts you silly things throughout the day, or when he gives you a quick call to tell you something crazy. he’s always insisting that you spend the night at his, just so he can wake up with his chin nuzzled into neck and his arm wrapped around your waist.
after practices he’ll pick you up to go get food, or bring something back for you if he stops on the way home instead. you’ve also been to a few of his games since making up, which depending on the result will usually end in some type of fun new sexual escapade.
he never forgets to kiss you hello and goodbye, is constantly giving you his clothes to wear because they “look better” on you, and he even throws his arm around your shoulder in public without shame.
he’s doing the little things, and you have to admit that you really like it.
ramona and cass have caught on at this point, always shooting you sly grins when you say you’re heading out, or that you have plans. you never even mentioned chris by name in the beginning, but they knew.
and despite prior flukes, they both support you whole-heartedly and are always gushing about how different he’s acting. you try not to read into their theories too much, but sometimes you can’t help but wonder.
why would he be putting in effort on all of these extra gestures if he didn’t truly want something more?
he’s already got the sex, so what else does he need?
but one thing you still haven’t fully learned about chris is that he’s selfish. he needs and wants everything, in almost all aspects of his life aside from his romantic interests. that is, until he met you.
and now that he has you, finally, he wants it all. whenever you’re not with him, he’s thinking about you. sometimes it’s the dirtiest fantasies that he’s just waiting to fulfill, and other times it’s wondering what you had for lunch, or what you dreamed about, or what you’re up to with your friends.
when you are with him, he can’t get enough; your smell, the way your hair feels against his palm, the softness of your lips all over him. he adores when he makes you laugh, when you toss one leg around him before the two of you go to sleep, when you’re standing in the crowd supporting him in his jersey.
he even likes when you scrunch your nose in disgust at him after he hits you with yet another cheesy pickup line.
chris has no idea how to handle the intensity of his feelings, or how to identify them. unbeknownst to him, you’re feeling the exact same.
but everything is still normal as you two lounge on his bed, both enjoying the wind down after a long day. the sun is well below the horizon now and you’ve been watching hockey for the past two hours—shocker. but you can feel chris growing restless beside you, hand stroking your thigh lazily.
“alright, what’s your deal?” you ask after he huffs for the fifth time, even though you know he’s just bored.
he pauses to think about it for a moment, rolling his lips between his teeth. then his eyes go wide and a grin takes over his face as you watch an idea form in his mind.
“wanna play super smash brothers?” chris asks, and you feel your own expression light up at the suggestion.
“oh my god, seriously? i didn’t even know that game was still around.” you gush in excitement.
“lucky for you, i’ve got it on my switch.” he wiggles his eyebrows a few times before he leans over to grab the device off of his nightstand.
you stay silent while he props the screen up on top of the covers, sitting up straighter like he’s preparing for war as he hands you a controller.
though the console is a completely foreign thing to you, you used to be decent when you played on the wii several years ago. you have a feeling the skill will translate.
“are you sure you’re ready? i’m a known pro.” he warns you with a smirk as the game loads.
you shrug, deciding not to boast about your own ability just yet. better to leave it a mystery, just in case you do actually suck.
“your threats are unimpressive.”
“i’d hold the sass, princess. we haven’t even started yet. plus,” he drags the word out for effect as he stares at you with a devious look in his eye, “i have a dare for you.”
a snort escapes before you can help it. “so we’re back in middle school now?”
“c’mon, humor me.”
“alright, let me hear it.” you give in, because you are wondering what he has in store.
“every time i beat you, you have to take off a piece of clothing. and every time i lose, if i ever actually lose, i’ll do the same.” chris explains.
it’s an enticing offer. you pretend to contemplate the challenge, tapping on your chin lightly with your pointer finger as you furrow your brows.
“okay, i’ll take the bait.” you finally say.
you don’t plan on being defeated anyways. he’s underestimating you yet again, and you can also tell that he’s surprised by your answer.
but regardless, he gives you a nod of approval. “very daring, i’m impressed.”
“you'll be even more impressed when i kick your ass.” you tease with a smile, leaning in to give him a quick kiss before you refocus on the task at hand.
“sure i will, now pick your character already.” he prompts, pointing a finger at the screen.
you already know who you’re going to play as, because you used to choose the same fighter pretty much every time. so you use your controls to scroll and select quickly.
“so you’re a kirby girl.” chris notes with a grin, like it makes perfect sense.
“force of habit, i guess.” you respond as you glance down at the switch.
he just shakes his head, clicking on the default stage so that he can get the game ready to go. “that big pink fuck won’t save you now.”
“hey! don’t you dare talk about him like that, he can hear you.” you motion to the screen in offense.
this makes him chuckle, a delightful sound that you’ve come to know and love.
“yeah, yeah, whatever. are you ready?”
you square your shoulders. “prepare to die, chris sturniolo.”
the game begins a moment later, and neither of you are relaxed in his bed anymore. you’re both quite literally on the edge of your seats, fingers frantically jamming at the controllers.
you’re the first to hit him, watching his XP fade just a little bit as a result. he grunts beside you while he continues throwing aimless attacks your way, eyes narrowed in determination.
he’s next to land a big one, which knocks kirby on his ass for a solid few seconds as chris pummels your character. you’re at nearly half of your health before you escape his grasp, so you grit your teeth and keep battling.
but it’s no use. even though you knock him off of the little island, he delivers the final blow a moment later and pikachu wins the first round.
“shit!” you yell as you watch your own fighter die.
chris throws his arms up in victory, already beaming over the fact that you’ll have to be the first to start stripping. you stare at the screen incredulously before you hang your head in shame.
“i think you owe me something, baby.” he chirps happily.
your mind races, trying to find some loophole to save your dignity. then the sides of your mouth turn up just a bit. you reach down to peel your socks off and toss them to the floor, fully smirking now.
chris shakes a finger at you accusingly, though he’s smiling regardless. “that does not count, you little cheater.”
“it totally does. socks are essential to daily life.” you argue.
he licks his lips as he grips his controller once more. “fine, but you don’t have an excuse after this, and puppy eyes won’t get you out of it.”
“sure they won’t.” you reply innocently, giving him a knowing look.
the next round starts up and this time you come out swinging, sending quite a few damaging hits his way. you’re satisfied with the head start, avoiding him by jumping around on the obstacles in the arena.
every time he’s about to strike, you feel him tense up beside you, so you decide to use it to your advantage. you back up as he advances, once again steering clear of any harm.
then you switch up and go on offense again, sending pikachu up into the air with the last strike of the match.
chris groans in disappointment as you let out a brief cheer, nudging him with your shoulder suggestively.
“i think you owe me something, pretty boy.” you mock him, unable to hide how pleased you are.
he just rolls his eyes in response, reaching to grab the collar of his shirt so he can pull it over his head. you honestly weren’t fully prepared yet, and your mouth goes dry as you watch his muscles clench while he shifts to chuck it to the ground.
you can see some of the hickies you gave him scattered across his collarbones, and although you’re a little embarrassed, it’s also a bit of a turn on.
“distracted?” chris taunts.
you narrow your eyes and turn back to the switch. “never.”
the third round commences and you’re feeling far more confident now. he may have a big ego, but he’s not as good as he made himself out to be, so you’ve at least got a chance.
it’s dead even for a moment while you each go punch for punch, bringing your health down quite a bit. you’re completely zoned in until you feel his hand grip your thigh, inching higher and higher rather quickly.
it makes your stomach flip, and you’re forced to look over at him in surprise. in that moment, you know you lost, because chris removes his fingers just as quickly as they were there and goes for the final kill.
he meets your eyes after he’s secured the second win, pure amusement evident in his expression.
“who’s the cheater now, huh?” you shove him lightly, but he just laughs.
“hey, you never said touching was off limits. i was just using my resources.” chris says, clearly deciding to maintain his innocence.
“that’s total horseshit and you know it. you’re lucky i’m a good sport.”
so you tug your own sweatshirt up, throwing it toward the foot of the bed without a second thought. you’re left in your lacey red bra, though it’s nothing he hasn’t seen before anyways.
but when you glance over, there’s a hungry glint in chris’s eyes that lets you know he's just as excited as the first time. his gaze flicks down to your chest, tilting his head forward a bit so his face is closer to yours.
“jesus, that bra is fucking sexy.” his words sound more like a whine than anything else.
you can feel yourself beginning to shake ever so slightly in anticipation, trying to steady your hands by holding your controller.
“don’t say shit like that to me.” oh, but it sounds so delicious.
“i’m sorry.” chris lies breathlessly.
his lips ghost over your cheek, his teeth clamping down on that sweet spot behind your ear a moment later. you let out a small gasp, placing your hands on his warm chest to push him away.
“we’re supposed to be playing.” you remind him quietly.
everything in your body is screaming for him to pin you to the bed, to let him have his way with you, but you won’t let yourself get carried away that easily. not this time.
“damnit, i’m not going to be able to win with you looking like that right beside me.” chris complains.
“sounds like a you problem.” you brush him off and click the button to start the next round.
you can feel your hands sweating as you move kirby around the stage. you know exactly what you’re doing now, walking right into his attacks as if you’re practically begging to die.
the attention chris gave you after you lost last time was intense, and you can only imagine how it’ll go once you take off your pants too.
so, you let yourself lose. pikachu defeats kirby swiftly, and now it’s time to face the consequences.
“you suck at this.” he grins widely after your third loss, clearly content.
but you don’t say anything. you just lay back, lifting your hips up so you can wiggle your sweats down your legs. you kick them off at the foot of the mattress, enjoying the way chris’s eyes go wide as he watches you.
“you’re evil, you know?” his voice is dangerously low as you sit back up, confidence flooding through your veins.
you nod, biting down on your lip to keep yourself from smiling like a cheshire cat. “what are you gonna do about it?”
he opens his mouth like he’s going to tell you, and then changes his mind.
“nothing.”
not the answer you were expecting. you furrow your brows, completely thrown for a loop, when you get your own brilliant idea. an idea he won’t be able to resist, literally and figuratively.
“fine, then i have a game for you.” you say, trying to provoke him.
“i’m listening.” he sounds intrigued.
“let’s see how long you can go without touching me, because i bet you won’t last more than a minute. but i can do whatever i want.” your voice gets sultry at the end as you glance down at his mouth.
chris feels all of the blood rush to his dick just thinking about the dare, already turned on from seeing you in your tiny matching set. he knows he won’t be able to contain himself, but he doesn’t care.
“filthy girl.” he purrs, nodding his head yes.
you watch him situate himself against the pillows, laying so you can roll to your knees and straddle him. his eyes roam your body, lips tilted into a lopsided smile as he relishes the feeling of your silky skin on his.
your hands go to his bare shoulders, steadying yourself as you lean down to give him a brief kiss. you move to his jaw before he can get to into it, taking your time as you finally reach his neck. he spreads his hands out on the comforter, gripping it harshly to prevent himself from giving in.
your hips rock against him agonizingly slow, and you can feel his hard on as you grind your cunt into it. fingers trail down his stomach, raking at the skin lightly.
he’s choking on his breath underneath you, trying so hard not to buck into your movements even though he wants to so bad. you’re careful, leaving open-mouth kisses in new areas in the hopes of giving him more hickies.
chris’s eyes flutter closed, lips parted in bliss as a small whine escapes, and you can tell he’s just itching to truly feel you.
you move your face up so you’re right by his ear, whispering your next words without hesitation.
“come on baby, touch me. i know you want to.”
it’s your first time using the pet name with him, and you can tell by the groan he lets out that it’s enough to send him over the edge.
his hands reach to grip your ass, rocking you against him harder as he gives one side a little slap. chris tilts his head so he can capture your mouth with his for a real kiss, tongue and teeth meshing together beautifully.
when you pull away his lips are glossy and red, which you always love seeing. you shift yourself off of him so your hands can move toward his sweats, fingers dipping below the waistband just slightly as you look up at him for permission.
chris nods eagerly, biting down on his lip and squirming around for any kind of contact. you steady his hips with your hands, clicking your tongue once in distaste.
“you better be patient, or i won’t do a damn thing.” you chide.
“i’ll be good. so good.” he promises, practically pleading with you now.
the neediness ignites a fire in your stomach, so you slowly begin to work his pants and boxers down his legs. his erection bounces free, slapping against his stomach, and you feel your mouth watering just looking at it.
once you’ve officially discarded his clothes, you position yourself between his legs so that you’re eye-level with his cock. he’s already throbbing at the sight, waiting as you spit in your palm and wrap it around the base of his shaft.
chris lets out a moan as you start to move your hand up and down ever so slowly, making sure to tease as much as possible because you know how sensitive he is right now. your run your thumb over his slit, which is leaking with precum, and he trembles in your grasp.
after a moment like this, you finally bring your head down, wrapping your lips around him and swirling your tongue across his tip.
“fuckkk.” he hisses through his teeth, reaching to wrap a hand in your hair messily.
you take as much of him into your mouth as you can, using your hand on the part you can’t reach as you hollow your cheeks and bob your head slightly. your other palm rests on his thigh, steadying yourself as you suck his dick.
“feels amazing.” he praises through a whimper, involuntarily bucking into your throat now.
you can feel him pulling you by the hair, forcing you to take more of him as tears brim your eyes. you know he’s getting close just based on the way he’s beginning to shake, so you pick up your pace a bit.
“shit, baby, just like that.” chris groans, his body shuddering as you work your tongue.
he’s breathing heavy now, head thrown back with his eyes screwed shut, hair messy across his forehead. his grip on you tightens, a dead giveaway that he’s about to come.
“fuck, fuck, i’m—”
you feel him twitch in your mouth, body completely tense as his orgasm spills down your throat. his hand untangles from your hair so you can pull away to swallow, brushing stray strands from your face.
his chest rises and falls heavily as he lays there, riding out the high before he peels his eyes open to look at you through the bleariness.
“you’re incredible.” chris says as he reaches for your hand, pulling you down into bed beside him.
he presses a kiss to your forehead, a gentle touch that you’re not used to, and you feel your stupid little heart melt.
“and you’re getting soft on me, mister tough guy.” you joke, poking his side like you're making a point.
“for you, i think i can live with that.”
#sturniolo triplets#chris sturniolo#christopher sturniolo#chris sturniolo smut#christopher sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo x reader#sturniolo smut#hockey!au#neighbor au#christopher sturniolo smut
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ON EDGE - ella toone
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a little bit suggestive content!
ella was on edge. she had been a nervous reck all week, ever since she found out that this was the weekend that she was going to be meeting your family for the first time. she was trying to downplay it by saying that she wasn't nervous but you could see straight through that false persona she was acting out.
you had met ella's family, a few months into you and ella dating — it being after one of the derby games and considering they lived in manchester and the pair of you were playing for united well let's just say you had clicked very fast.
you were nervous the first time you met her family — it was a normal thing so you totally understood why she was acting the way she was.
you had the job all week of constantly assuring ella that she had nothing to worry about, your parents had heard all about ella — they felt as if they already knew everything about the brunette without even fully meeting the girl properly.
hearing the way you talk about the girl and how much adored her, and all the small little cute things ella would do for you to make you feel like the most special girl in the world. they had heard it all and to point out the obvious your whole family were also football fans so at least you would all have something to talk about over dinner.
your also had two brothers, tommy who was the oldest out the three of you by 2 years always trying to take the role of being the boss and then there was your younger brother lewis who had just turned 19 and behind you was probably the biggest football fan in the family.
your brothers both didn't and refused to believe you at first when you said that you were signing for united they thought you were just playing into the silly rumours that the transfer pages were spreading about you at the time.
even after the multiple instagram posts on the united's official instagram page with you being in the official kit they for some reason wouldn't believe you. you knew they were just doing it to wind you up and it was times like those that made you really wish you were an only child.
your mum and dad — specifically your mum who you were adamant was more excited to finally meet ella in person then she was to see her own daughter.
ever since you let it slip that you had a girlfriend over the phone just a few weeks into your relationship with ella, you had been bombarded with messages from both parents asking when they would finally meet her in person.
you on the other hand were excited for your two worlds to finally meet not having seen your parents in 3 months since they were last able to find the time to get down to manchester to watch you play as they lived in london
which did make it difficult for them to watch but you knew they were always your biggest supporter weather they were in attendance or not.
you had been waiting for this day to come for what felt like years having to reschedule many times due to last minutes meetings, training camps, match days or press days it had become quite difficult to even set out a day and part of you at one point was convinced it would never happen.
you wanted your parents to meet ella properly and not on the side of a pitch in the porting rain while you both looked tired and longed for nothing but a warm shower.
so when the idea of your family finding a few spare days where they were able to come up and stay with you and your beloved girlfriend and even the plus side of watching you play again in person seemed like the perfect way.
after just getting out of the shower, you were drying your hair as the door of your shared room flung open as ella waltzed in and you could tell her mind was racing.
"what's wrong, darling?" you asked turning the hair dryer off, and swinging around in the vanity chair to face ella who had flopped down on the bed face first, letting a huge dramatic sigh out.
"nothin'" she mumbled out, it being blurred out by the fact she was talking into the bed sheets. a small giggle left your lips at the sight of her dramatics.
"love c'mon, your gonna be fine!" you said moving the chair closer to the bed, pulling at her ankles to pull ella down the bed as she groaned trying to move back up the bed.
ella turned over onto her back, "i am fine, i'm cool, calm and collected!" she sat up and flashed you a smile before crashing back into the sheets her hands going up to cover her face, a loud groan coming from her as she did so.
"so which one was that cool, calm or collected?" you joked earning yourself a roll of the eyes from the brunette as you moved off the chair and onto your shared bed lying down next to ella.
a big huff was heard from beside you as her hands dropped from her face and turned her head to you, "i've decided i can't meet your parents" ella says talking quicker then you can comprehend what she is actually saying — here we go again.
"what? why this time?" you ask, this being the hundredth time it felt that she was trying to get out of meeting your family.
"i just can't, i'll just say up here and you can tell them i'm-" footballers these days not only dramatic on the pitch but even more dramatic off the pitch and over the smallest of things ever.
you cut her off, "els! baby you'll be fine they love you already and they haven't even met you properly, plus i don't think my mum will be happy if she turns up and your not here with me — she more excited to see you then she is me!" you told her as a small smile crept onto her face.
"she is?" she asks, seeming surprised by you saying that.
"yes! every message i get from her always involves your name too — how are you and ella, don't forget to tell ella i said hi all that jazz, half the time she doesn’t even ask about me!" you said telling her only a few of the messages your received on the daily from your mum.
it sometimes amazes you how she can be so calm over playing a match in front of thousands of people but then can go to acting like a scared child over meeting your parents.
"oh.." she mumbled that seemingly put some ease to her nerves.
a silence crept over the two of you as your wrapped your arm over ella's waist, "what?" you asked feeling ella's eyes staring at you.
"nothin’ you just look pretty" she shook her head, rolling over so that she hovered over you looking at you with nothing but adoration even if your hair was half dry and half wet in ella's eyes you always looked beautiful.
a small giggle left your lips as you hummed in response your eyebrows lifting a little, "wait a second" ella said still hovering over you this time a little closer to your face.
"why?"
"i just need-" she cut herself off by closing the distance between the two of you, pressing you a little deeper into the white sheets as her lips locked with yours delivering a bruisingly passionate kiss. "-to do this" the brunette breathed out finishing her sentence while giving you a moment to catch your breathe.
just as her hand gripped your jaw and tugged your mouth to meet hers again. you couldn't help but moan into her mouth as she pressed her body closer to yours her knee pressing teasingly into you as she slipped her tongue in and swirled it around.
the midfielder knowing exactly how to rile you up as she sucked down hard on your bottom lip as your head pressed into the bed further with a beefy whine.
not even giving you a moment to process anything she pulled away and lips instead began to move down towards your neck pressing small and soft kisses as she did so.
her affections were clearly needy and messy as her fingers snuck up the inside of your t-shirt, her strong hands flattening against the bare skin and pushing you harder into the bed so she felt your and contract and tense under her every touch.
"els-" you mumbled out against her lips pulling away from her as best you could, "i need to finish getting ready" you said as ella pulled away resting her head on your shoulder.
"can we not just stay like this" she asks as she wraps her arms around your waist holding you tight as she places a small kiss behind your ear.
"as much as i would love too, me and you both know we can't" you smile kissing her forehead as she lifts up off you as you stood up to go back to drying your hair before it became too frizzy knowing it wouldn't be long until your parents and brothers would be here.
"wait, love-" ella began but before you even gave her a chance to get her worry out you stopped her.
"love, stop stressing. i'm not feeding you to the lions i'm gonna be there with you, holding your hand if you want me too!" you teased reaching over to squeeze her knee in reassurance as you got back to doing what you were previously doing beforehand.
as ella whispered that she was going to watch tv downstairs, placing a kiss to your cheek before leaving you to get ready in peace.
after getting ready you went downstairs to find ella sat on the couch her leg bouncing up and down, flinching at any sudden movement thinking it was the sound of the door.
when there was a knock at the door, she jumped up following you to the door like a little lost puppy
"oh thank god this is your house!" your brother sighed with relief walking straight into your home, not saying hello to you but instead making sure to introduce themselves to your girlfriend — at this point you were sure they had only come to see her. you could leave in that moment and they probably wouldn't even notice.
"hi tommy!" you said blankly, watching as he walked down your hallway throwing his arm up at an attempt to wave, you turning your attention to your parents and younger brother who had his headphones in looking down at his phone probably not even realising that you had opened the door.
moving out the way for your parents to be able to walk in the door with there luggage, which you just moved to one side. "hi mum" you smiled, wrapping your arms around her.
"oh my little girl, you look so grown up! manchester must be treating you well!" her smile couldn't get any bigger seeing her daughter follow her dreams and to be living happy was truly beautiful to her.
"hi dad!" you greeted him, hugging him too as your mum went over and engulfed ella into a big hug and said her hellos too.
"hi buttercup" he said, the old nickname which he gave you when you were little, only because you had a little patch in your garden back in london which used to grow buttercups and when you were little you would always pick them and bring them to mainly your dad but also your mum. so your dad gave you the nickname and ever since it had just stuck.
you rolled your eyes turning around knowing ella would tease you about the nickname your family had for you, "don't even" you pointed to her as ella raised her hands in defence as she tried her best not to laugh.
you went and said your hellos to your younger brother, lewis who had now realised that you were stood in front of him and the two of you caught up a little alongside tommy who had finished raiding you kitchen cupboards for now, and finally came over to say hello as it gave you a chance to find the in and outs of what they had been doing since the last time you saw them as ella spoke with your parents.
"you make our little buttercup so happy, she's told us all about you!" you heard your dad say as he had now made himself comfy in your living room.
"only good things i hope, but i definitely got lucky!" ella said sitting down opposite your mum and dad, looking over at you a big grin appearing on her face as you walked into the room.
she did believe that she got lucky and she had never been the one to believe in 'the one' or 'soulmates' or anything like that but she definitely believed that you and her were soulmates.
you sat down next to ella your arm wrapping around her shoulders pulling her closer to you. your brothers having been left to their own devices in your kitchen, more than likely raiding your cupboards after guilt tripping you: "but y/n it was such a long journey!" in there stupid sappy voice.
"so ella-" your dad began however was cut off by your two brothers coming in arms filled with pretty much every snack they could of possibly of found in your kitchen.
"seriously!" you had cut your dad off, as your two brothers sat on the couch next to your parents, releasing the snacks from their arms. "your not very good at hiding the crisps by the way" lewis smiled, your favourite crisps that you had been saving for a cheat day in his arms.
"i actually hate you- but anyways this is my older brother tommy.." you pointed out to the boy who already had his mouth filled with popcorn as he smiled over to ella, a little hi and wave coming from him.
"and my annoying little brother lewis" you smiled sarcastically towards lewis who shrugged digging into your crisps.
"ella, you could have done so much better than the mug that is my sister!" lewis said, receiving a flap to the back of his head by your dad as you rolled your eyes at your brother, ella just laughing along with the joke.
"she's not all that bad" ella joked, receiving a small dig to the ribs from your as she held onto her side a whisper of an ow coming from the brunette.
the next hour was spent, talking as your mum and dad got to know ella better - even though they didn’t think that was possible because of how much you had already told them over the phone. but with that came with the embarrassing story’s from your childhood and your brothers winding you up.
with that came along the football talk which went on for hours but something you didn’t mind talking about at least it saved you from any more embarrassing stories being told but nevertheless your smile never left your face, as watching your girlfriend interact with your family and get along with so well was all you could ask for in life.
“have you come to help or be a distraction?” ella giggled as she was helping your mum dish up the dinner you had prepared earlier, as you had wandered into the kitchen wrapping your arms around the ella’s waist.
“i always help!” you sighed rested your head on her shoulder as your mum scoffed jokingly. “no the boys aren’t sharing the controller!” you frowned as both your mum and ella began to laugh.
“you didn’t really think you were gonna get a chance of playing when they haven’t played on fifa for the whole journey here!” your mum said looking at you with raised eyebrows as your frown deepened and a big huff coming from you.
“well i thought you know because it’s MY house-“ you began as ella coughed, “sorry OUR house, that they would give me a go on my games!” you complained as ella shook her head at your complaints.
“it’s okay you play on it tomorrow” ella reassured, turning to kiss you on the cheek. as you stayed clinged to your girlfriends waist, your hands wandering up her united hoodie she was wearing.
“i love you baby, but can you let go cause i can’t move” ella whispered in your ear, putting down the spoon she was using to dish up food on the counter and gently prying your hands away from her bare skin. pecking you quickly on the lips as ella moved to where your mum was at the other side of the kitchen.
“can you go and tell your brothers and your dad that dinner is ready?” you mum asked as you stood leaning against the counter dipping your finger in the pudding ella had been making.
mumbling a yes as you retreated from the kitchen, groaning internally at the thought of having to pull them away from the game - knowing it would take a while.
you walked into the living room, all three of them with controller, part of you was contemplating standing there and seeing how long it would actually take for them to notice you but then again you would most likely be stood there all night!
instead you flapped lewis on the head with a cushion, “what-“ he said screaming as tommy and your dad looked behind them where you were stood beginning to laugh. “you joking, i’ve just lost because of you!” as lewis threw the controller to the side of the couch.
“boo hoo, karma for not letting me play!” you sarcastically smiled, “dinners ready by the way” as you walked out the room hearing them complain to each other how the other actually won.
Your dad and brothers coming into the dining room almost seconds after you, as your brothers both looked at each, “did you cook?” they ask almost in sync as you nodded confused at what they were trying to get at.
"yeah, i'm no longer hungry" tommy says as you gasp as ella and your parents are stifling their laugh.
“i’ll have you find, i’m a very good cook. aren’t i els?” you said, actually taking offence to what your brothers said. looking over at ella for back up as she hesitantly agreed.
you scoffed, "you can all starve for all i care then!"
sitting down at the table next to ella, as small talk began inbetween eating the food you had made. the odd topic about life in manchester and what yours and ella’s future plans were — which when brought up you didn’t really know what to say.
of course you and ella had talked about eventually getting married, starting a family but right now everything was perfect. nothing needed to be added and nothing needed to change. everything was perfect.
“i hate to admit this but that was actually quite nice” tommy admitted, finishing his meal you had made after he insulted your cooked, lewis and your parents both agreeing.
ella already knew what you had made was going to be nice considering you make it quite often for the two of you — usually on your recovery days.
“told you!” you smile to yourself in satisfaction - there was no better feeling than proving someone wrong but the someone being your brothers made it that little bit sweeter.
“definitely better than the cake you made for mum on mother’s day when you put salt instead of sugar in it” you dad poked fun, as the memory came back to you. your smile disappearing as quick at it came.
“in my defence i was fifteen” you defended yourself as you could hear ella beside you giggling. it was generally a honest mistake because which idiot even decided to put the salt bowl and the sugar bowl next to each other? someone was bound to get them mixed up and it just happened to be you.
“here was me about to ask you to make me a cake for my birthday!” ella joked, her hand resting on your thigh as she leant into you laughing along side your family.
before you joined in. you couldn’t stay mad at ella. you two worlds had jelled just the way you hoped and that was enough, even if it meant you would be the butt of some jokes but you couldn’t win every battle.
liked by millieturner and 748,013 others
ellatoone meet the parents? completed it mate!
comments -
alessia finally got over your fear i see?
1h 103 likes reply
-> ellatoone what? i wasn’t scared?
-> yourusername mhm keep telling yourself that baby
lewis91 hello ella👋🏻
24m 217 likes reply
-> ellatoone you sound like a bot?
#woso#woso blurbs#woso community#woso x reader#woso imagine#ella toone#ella toone x reader#manchester united#manchester united women#my#muwomen#man utd women#england#lionesses#woso fanfics#woso one shot#enwoso
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Hello, hi, fandom big sister here
Finale’s are always a rollercoaster, series finales especially. They can be fun, devastating, sad, exhilarating, disappointing, everything we dreamed, or all of the above or none of those at all. Emotions run high, and it’s hard to say goodbye.
I’m here to offer that if the idea of The Bad Batch finale is making you physically sick, is genuinely impacting your day to day, or is impacting your mental health, I encourage you to do one or some of the following:
1. Reach out to someone in the fandom who you’re close to or feel comfortable reaching out to 2. Go outside in whatever capacity you’re able to whether that’s a walk or just sitting in a doorway or even being by an open window. Take in some fresh air 3. Take a break from chat forums or Reddit or tumblr where I’ve noticed an alarming uptick in anxiety induced posts about the finale
I’m saying this as someone who understands attachment to stories and characters. My body is a canvas of tattoos inspired by characters, Star Wars in particular. In fact, clones in particular. I’m excited and nervous to see what is in store for our Batch; however, fandom and media should not be a source for literal physical and mental discomfort to the point of affecting your base functions, and in the last few days, I’ve become worried over most of the posts I’ve seen. If this is happening to you, please reach out, please take a breath, and please make some space for you.
This goes for after the finale too. Consume, enjoy, process, discuss, engage, all of the beautiful fandom things. But please take the above steps if the same is happening to you post finale. We are a community, and I want this to always be a community of safety and comfort
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cc. your tags on the boudoir post. MAMMON recieving an album of those photos. i'd love to hear your thoughts on his reaction (and everyone else's, if you're feeling particularly inspired?)
Ah, Daisy, my dear, thank you for asking!
I apologize for this late response, but I knew I was gonna be getting wordy with this one. Because I looove the boudoir photos idea in general and OH MAN just thinking about all their reactions is making me crazy lol. I was going to just do my regular sort of response, but this turned into full on headcanons oops.
So just in case anyone missed it, here is the original post!
My thoughts change a little bit depending on whether MC is present when the characters receive the pictures, so I included both! I only did the bros but I might be willing to do the rest upon request!
the brothers react to MC giving them an album of boudoir photos
NSFW MDNI
Warnings: suggestive but that's about it, nothing explicit
Lucifer
When you're with him, Lucifer is calm and courteous, but with a flare of arrogance. Of course you would give him such a special gift. It's only natural that you would trust such intimacies to him.
He asks you if you're trying to tell him something. Has he perhaps been neglecting you, MC? Did you give him this so that he wouldn't be able to help himself? He's onto you.
No matter your reason, he can't look through too many of the pictures before wanting the real thing that's sitting right next to him. Tell him you still have some of that lingerie in your possession. Especially if you happen to have some in his colors.
If you aren't with him, he's going to be a lot less arrogant in general. He will find you later, make no mistake. But he's honestly so touched by your gift that he spends a lot of time looking through the album, simply admiring you.
Mammon
Mammon is freaking out no matter where you are the time. If you're with him, it's definitely a lot worse. Blushing profusely. Opens the album then slams it shut because he can't handle looking at it for very long.
You can't help but giggle at his reaction and then it's all stop laughin' at him MC!! You'll need to take his hands or maybe kiss his cheek, let him know that you genuinely just wanted to give him a nice gift, you aren't trying to tease him or anything.
Ask him if he likes it. You'll get a serious response. Calms down enough to say 'course he likes it. Likes it so much, he suddenly can't keep his hands off you.
If you aren't with him at the time, he buries it under his pillow or otherwise hides it because this is now one of his treasures and nobody gets to see it but him!
Leviathan
Levi is another one who'd be a blushing mess no matter what, but if you're there at the time, he might retreat to his room and not let you in. He needs that barrier between you because if he sees you right now, his heart will explode.
He'll let you back in eventually, but it might be a minute. He needs to calm down. Are you trying to kill him, MC?! Even when he does let you in, he can't look at you directly. He's probably covering his face with his hands.
Reassure him that you gave these photos to him because you trust him with them. They're personal, intimate, and you want him to be close to you. He's going to calm down the more you talk to him. Pull his hands away from his face and when he sees the sincerity in your eyes, it flips a switch. Might even slip into demon form just to wrap his tail around you possessively.
If you're not with him at the time, he's going to need to take care of that raging boner of his right away. He won't be able to focus on anything else until he does. He's so embarrassed, he has to watch several episodes of Ruri Hana to recalibrate.
Satan
He will try to keep his expression unreadable. He's not having any over the top reactions, but as he flips through the photos, he keeps getting redder and redder. You're sitting right next to him, how can he not react? At some point, he has to close the album because he feels like he's looking at something he shouldn't.
Satan is quiet about how flustered he is, but he's having a hard time looking at you. He tries to say something and incomprehensible lines about how beautiful you are fall from his lips. He sounds like a broken record of spoken word poetry or perhaps a very drunk beat poet.
Recovers himself after a minute. As soon as he's composed, you're in his arms. You knew what this would do to him, didn't you, MC? You'll find yourself pressed up against the nearest wall in moments.
If you're not with him, Satan will tuck your album into a stack of his other books. He thinks it's well hidden there - in plain sight. But he's hyper aware of it. Keeps coming back to look at it. Ends up having to put it on the bottom of a stack behind a different stack to make it more difficult to get to.
Asmodeus
Thrilled. Absolutely thrilled in every way. Oh, wow, MC, you look amazing. He's breathless. He's entranced. He's even blushing because he knows what it means that you've given these to him. He's so in love with you, he can't stand it.
Asks you about everything you may be wearing. Comments on the skill of the photographer. Tells you that next time, you should do one together. He has so many ideas. He wants to do one where all you're wearing is jewelry - bright and sparkling, just like your soul.
Covers you in kisses. He's not shy about how this is making him feel, how much he wants you. He just wants to see your beautiful figure here and now in real life, MC! Won't you let him worship you?
If you're not with him, he will find you immediately so he can say all of the things he needs to say in that moment. You can't leave him alone with all these feelings, both physical and emotional. He brings them all to you without hesitating.
Beelzebub
It might take him a minute to understand exactly what he's looking at, mostly because he's never even heard of this. He doesn't know what a boudoir photo shoot is, so you might have to explain it to him. Once he understands, he starts lightly blushing as he looks through them. His expression is serious because he's beginning to see just how special this is.
Honestly surprised that you would give him something so intimate. He's touched. He's going to hug it to himself and look at you with tears in his eyes because he can't believe how lucky he is.
Give him another couple minutes to look through them and then he's having different feelings. He's not sure if he can hold back, MC. Tell him it's okay, that you don't want him to, and you'll find yourself on your back on his bed in zero seconds flat. You're quickly reminded why he's the Avatar of Gluttony.
If you're not with him at the time, he will figure things out on his own, though he'll have a plethora of questions for you later. He keeps it close to him at all times until you answer them because he knows one thing for sure - he doesn't want anyone else seeing these.
Belphegor
Oh, he sees what you're playing at. Trying to fluster him, are you, MC? Trying to rile him up? Are you sure you can handle him when you do that? He's so wound up by the gift he can't act normal about it. He's actually very touched by it, but he's not sure how to deal with the feelings, so he comes on too strong.
You laugh because to you, this is expected. You understand that this is Belphie's way of dealing with his own shyness. You respond by meeting him with just as much intensity. It's all kisses and touching and fumbling in the dark.
It's only later, when both of you are calm, when you're nestled in his arms, that he admits to you how much it means to him. That he tells you how he'll cherish the album you gave him. That he says he's stunned by how gorgeous you are, even more brilliant that the stars in the sky.
If you aren't with him at the time, you'll be dealing with a petulant but horny demon later on. He's going to be annoyed at you for leaving it for him and then not being there when it inevitably turns him on. Just as possessive as his brothers, he hides it in the attic where no one is likely to find it.
masterlist | Thank you for reading!
#I'm so mad they removed yellow from the Tumblr font color options#now I gotta go into the HTML and do Mammon's manually myself#anyway I love this prompt#and I was inspired to do the brothers#I haven't done headcanons in a while so this was fun#obey me#obey me nightbringer#obey me headcanons#obey me x reader#obey me x mc#obey me lucifer#obey me mammon#obey me leviathan#obey me satan#obey me asmodeus#obey me beelzebub#obey me belphegor#obey me lucifer x reader#obey me mammon x reader#obey me leviathan x reader#obey me satan x reader#obey me asmodeus x reader#obey me beelzebub x reader#obey me belphegor x reader#misc naughty times#oopsiedaisymae#cc mutuals#misc writes
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j word coded
TO BE CLEAR: I am NOT claiming that this other game (Ikemen Villains) is a "rip-off" of TWST; I'm pointing out parallels between them because I think it's entertaining to see how different games interpret the same or similar fairy tales.
Please also note that although nothing I say in this post is explicit, IkeVil itself is designated as 17+ and contains dark content. If you decide you want to try the game out for yourself, BE AWARE OF THE AGE RATING AND TRIGGER WARNINGS.
ARE THESE NOT JUST J WORD IN A BLACK WIG AND CONTACTS (the last one looks like a blend of Jade's sus face + Idia's sus face) 😭 His face looks so similar… and they're both "attendant" characters that act polite but are more manipulative than they appear at first glance... (although Alfons has Floyd's hedonism rather that Jade's restraint!)
More of my first impressions of the characters of IkeVil below the cut!! Again, there's nothing explicit, I just wanted to keep this post not too bulky.
And not just him (Alfons) either, ashldbiasydefpaei there's a Trey-lookalike and a Silver pre-hair color change in the same game! Roger has a rifle and is cursed by Snow White's huntsman, so I joke that he's Rook and Trey's test tube baby... and Elbert has Vil's keen eye and desire for what is beautiful!
There are also characters that don't look like an TWST ones, but definitely have personalities that remind me of a few! For example, Liam's laid-back affability is Che'nya and Chenya Cater-esque, Jude speaks in a gruff but aristocratic manner like Leona but is a tough businessman like Azul, and Ellis seems like a mix of Malleus's obsession with happy endings + Idia's gloomy demeanor…? No clue if he actually is gloomy or not, he just gives me gloomy vibes.
Victor is Crowley-adjacent! Like they're both overseeing this group of powerful men with magic so you'd think they're serious types--but they aren't. They're silly and use their own skills to do frivolous things like doing magic tricks or making cake fancier. They also both seem to be hiding a secret...
Harrison doesn't remind me of anyone in particular, though I do see little bits of our typical "lying" characters in him. He has the chill of a Che'nya but also Floyd's flippancy and lies as easily as like... I don't know, Cater?? Not sure on this one.
abfhbyoafvadpiadgo OKAY OKAY BUT THE FUNNIEST ONE TO ME IS WILLIAM BECAUSE HE'S "THE QUEEN OF HEARTS" CHARACTER... Most of the time when you have a character with this inspiration, they're controlling and easily angered (*stares at Riddle*), but William is NOTHING like that????
In fact, he's got a strong sense of justice and often encourages others to be honest and to act freely, even if it means disregarding the rules. Every time William opens his mouth... I picture Riddle shrieking and sobbing/j
#twst#twisted wonderland#ikemen villains#ikevil#Jade Leech#disney twisted wonderland#disney twst#Riddle Rosehearts#Cater Diamond#Floyd Leech#Tweels#Dire Crowley#Octavinelle#Azul Ashengrotto#Idia Shroud#Malleus Draconia#Leona Kingscholar#Silver#Dawn Knight#Rook Hunt#Trey Clover#Vil Schoenheit#notes from the writing raven#book 7 spoilers#william rex#harrison gray#liam evans#elbert greetia#alfons sylvatica#roger barel
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Breaking Point
pairing: art donaldson x fem!reader
summary: You and Art were hitting partners (and a bit more) in college, so when you run into him a decade later at the U.S. Open, old sparks reignite...
word count: 3.4k
warnings: SMUT, p in v, oral (fem!receiving), slight marking, drinking
a/n: I watched Challengers last night and then wrote this whole thing in one sitting. Nothing in this is really canon other than Art being a major simp lol so no spoilers for the movie! I usually make playlists (or at least find a few songs that get me in the zone) when writing, so I thought I'd start sharing them here too if people are interested!
You should've known he'd be here. You've been following his career for the last decade since you graduated, and ever since he won Wimbledon last year, he's been tennis royalty, but a small part of you still thought you wouldn't run into him here. At the fucking U.S. Open.
Stanford was a lifetime ago, and you haven't kept in touch with anyone from the college team, but there was always something about Art Donaldson that stuck with you. Ten years later, that hasn't changed.
"It's been so long," he calls out when he spots you from across the practice courts. "I didn't think I'd see you."
You didn't either, and you still haven't decided how you feel about it yet, but when he jogs over to your side, you just shrug. "Guess it's your lucky day."
He smiles, and his teeth glimmer in the bright sunlight. "It certainly is."
The loud thwacks of tennis balls hitting rackets echo around you, but you can't seem to focus on anything but the man standing in front of you. He looks good.
He was beautiful in college too, whether he was training across the net or slipping into your bed, but it feels different now, with so much time apart. He looks like a man now.
"Anyway," Art says, jerking you back to reality. "We should get a drink sometime. To catch up."
He adds the last part almost as an afterthought, but it doesn't escape your notice how his eyes have been trailing up and down your body since he walked over.
A drink could mean almost anything with Art Donaldson, but you're too curious to refuse. "Sure. This weekend, after the semi-finals."
He nods, his eyes glinting with amusement, and you grab your bag from the bench beside you before looping the strap over your shoulder.
You walk off the practice courts after one last glance over your shoulder, and you feel his eyes following along until the doors swing shut behind you.
***
He should've expected this. You were a firecracker in college, and you kept him on his toes every single day you were together, so he really should have known what he was getting into when he met you for drinks that weekend.
Instead, he's one too many beers in, and his buzz is only enhancing the glow of your beauty in the hazy bar light. Your dress isn't even that low cut, but something about the shadows glancing over your strong shoulders reminds him of late nights in the Stanford dorms after a hard practice when there was only one thing he wanted more than sleep.
"You played really well this morning," he says genuinely as he sets his beer back onto the table. "After that first set, Mueller didn't stand a chance."
You flash him a dazzling smile as you shrug, resting your chin on your palm. "I had her after the third game, but thanks. It was a quick match."
Art hasn't taken his eyes off of you since you sat down, and while prolonged eye contact usually makes you nervous, you find that you're actually enjoying the attention quite a bit. Attentiveness was never an issue with him, and you would normally give in to your urges, but there's just too much history with him, and you can't afford to lose focus. Not when the title is so close you can taste it.
"I hear the networks are eyeing you for a commentator post," you say, trying to change the subject.
You trace your finger around the rim of your nearly empty margarita, before lifting it to take a final sip, and you don't miss how his throat bobs as you lick the salt off your lips.
"Uh, yeah," he mumbles, clearing his throat. "It was just some chatter, but I'm not looking to retire anytime soon."
You frown. "Is that right?" He's playing better than ever, but he definitely hasn't been himself out on the court in years.
He glances down, clearly trying to avoid the scrutiny, and when his eyes land on your empty glass, he changes the subject again. "You want another drink?"
You shake your head, knowing that another will lead to a less than fun morning, but he isn't done yet.
"You sure?" His eyes find yours again, and this time the eye contact feels primal. "It doesn't have to be here."
Your eyebrows lift and you tilt your head with a knowing smile. "Where were you thinking?"
"I don't know," he shrugs, before his lips curve up into a cheeky grin. "My room's nice."
You saw it coming from a mile away, but it still pulls a laugh out of you. "Oh, I'm sure it is, but this isn't college anymore, Art. You should get some sleep...focus on your match in the morning."
You push your glass forward and stand up, nodding at him as you turn to leave, but then you see him stand too out of the corner of your eye.
"I'll walk you to your car."
He looks at you with a hint of amusement in his expression, and you can't help but want to play along, even though Art Donaldson was nothing but trouble for you.
You don't respond, instead just stepping out from around the table and walking out the front doors of the bar. You don't have to turn back to know he's right behind you, and when you reach your car, parked in the center of the nearly empty parking lot, you spin around.
He doesn't stop walking until he has you practically boxed in by your driver's side door, his face less than a foot from yours as he tucks his hands into his pockets.
He had pushed his sleeves back at some point in the night, from the humid summer heat of the bar, and you can see the veins on his forearms now, under the dim light of the street lamps.
"This is me," you say jokingly, tipping your chin at your car as he looks at you with an expression you can't distinguish. "I'm good from here."
He doesn't move.
It's not that you expected him to give up so easily; you had just forgotten how persistent he could be.
Art's mouth stretches into a slanted smile. "Do you remember the Davis Invitational? Junior year."
Speaking of his persistence...he had been pursuing you for months, not in any tangible way, but you always knew what he was thinking.
After the invitational, where you and Art had been the respective men's and women's champions, you had gone back to his dorm to celebrate. Three hours and just as many vodka shooters later, he had finally gotten you in his bed. Not that you were complaining.
Art knew his way around your body, and even that first night, he had managed to get you off more times than you can remember.
"What about it?" you shoot back, your eyebrows raising at the insinuation.
"Nothing," he says with a shrug, but you don't miss the humor glinting in his eyes. "You just used to be a lot more fun to celebrate with."
"Fuck you," you spit out, shoving his shoulder harder than you mean to. He barely budges, instead grabbing your hand and tugging you a few inches closer, and suddenly a wave of lust washes over you, making your breath hitch.
You press your thighs together under your dress, hoping he can't feel the heat spreading across your skin, but then his smile turns to a smirk and you know you're done for.
"What do you think?" he whispers, leaning in so close that his lips brush over your earlobe. "Want to celebrate?"
Molten lava pools in your gut and you are only peripherally aware of his hand sliding down your hips to the flowy edge of your dress. His fingers glide over your skin as his hand goes under the loose fabric, before rising up to grab your ass, drawing your hips flush with his.
Your arousal is already starting to soak through your panties, but the feeling of his hard bulge pressed up against you sends you flying back to reality.
You lift your hands to his chest and push him back so that he's a few steps away from you. It's not far enough, but at least you can't feel him from there. "I'm not fucking you, Art."
He shrugs, his smirk only slightly shaken. "Who said anything about fucking? I just wanted to talk."
You huff out a laugh. "You're funny. Besides, I'm too tired for this. I need to rest up before my match."
"What about tomorrow night then?" His lip is still curved up in a smirk, but there's an earnestness in his gaze that surprises you.
"What makes you think you'll still be here tomorrow?"
His mouth spreads into a wide smile. "I always win."
You snort. "Fine. Win your match and we can talk."
You don't miss the grin on his face as you climb into your car and leave.
***
You win your next match in straight sets again, so by the time you're out of the locker room, Art's match is still in play. Driven by a mixture of curiosity and intrigue, you head over to his court and find a seat halfway up the stands.
He has won two of three sets, and he's leading the fourth, so with the prospect of the match ending soon, you use the time to observe him from a different angle.
His form is much better than it was in college, and you've seen him play countless times on TV, but you haven't really let yourself see how good he looks out there. The sinewy muscles rippling in his arms as he lifts them to serve. The rugged sturdiness of his legs as he races back and forth across the court.
You wish you could be down there with him, running your hands over the smooth lines of his abdomen, tasting the drops of sweat as they roll down his body-
The crowd erupts in cheers, and you are thrust back into reality as Art throws his arms into the air with a loud whoop. The scoreboard confirms his victory, and you clap along with the audience as he shakes his opponent's hand and heads over to his chair.
People around you stand up to leave, but you stay in your seat, watching as he grabs his bag and stuffs his rackets inside. When he wipes a towel over his face, his head turns up and his eyes immediately go to you, like he knew you were here the whole time.
Your stomach does an involuntary flip and he flashes his eyebrows at you as you bit the inside of your lip, trying to hold back a smile.
When he ducks back down to grab his things, you stand up quickly to avoid letting him see your blush and follow the rest of the crowd off of the stands.
***
You hear it late that night. Three little raps on your hotel room door, just before midnight.
You're in the finals, and you don't have any friends here to celebrate with, so you were sipping a beer and watching old match recordings when you heard the knock.
There's no one else who would come to see you this late, so you're not surprised when you open the door to find Art, dressed in a tee shirt and comfy-looking pajama pants.
"What are you doing here?" you ask, even though you already know the answer.
Art just looks at you, his pupils already massive. "You said if I win, we could talk." He shrugs. "I won."
"Okay," you concede, opening the door wider to let him in. "Just talking then."
He nods, before following you inside and shutting the door.
"You want anything to drink?" you ask as he trails behind you.
He shakes his head. "I'm good."
You grab your beer bottle from the side table and sit down on the floor, crossing your legs beneath you.
Art sits across from you, his feet in front of him and his elbows on his knees. You were assigned to a modestly sized room, but for someone as tall as him, the space must feel cramped.
"How did the match feel?" you ask, taking a swig of beer.
He thinks for a moment. "It was close at first, but once I shook my legs out, it became a breeze."
"Your legs were never the problem," you say, leveling him with a serious look. "It was always your attitude. Or your confidence."
He frowns, his eyebrows scrunching slightly. "I'm plenty confident."
"You are now," you tell him as you swirl the bottle around in your hand. "You won Wimbledon, you have a reason to be confident."
That makes him smile. "So you're saying my legs are fine."
"Yeah," you say before you can process what you're saying. "You looked good out there."
His smile turns to a smirk so fast it nearly gives you whiplash. "You think I look good?"
You let out an exasperated scoff. "At tennis."
His grin doesn't falter so you roll your eyes at him before lifting the bottle to your lips to take another swig. When you tilt the bottle back down to swallow, his hand reaches forward to take it from you. Your grip on the beer doesn't loosen, so the motion sends you pitching forward.
Your mouth parts with a small yelp as his arm wraps around you, tugging you closer, and before you can process what's happening, his lips are on yours.
If you let yourself think too hard, you would realize that there is way too much shared history and way too much baggage here for this to be a good idea...so that's why you don't.
Instead, you let him pull your body flush against his and when his tongue slides over the seam of your lips, you grant him access immediately. Your shirts come off in quick succession and you gasp as his hands run up and down your body, his strong, calloused fingers grasping at every inch of purchase they can find. Yours reach up to tangle in his messy hair, and when his lips move down your neck, your grip tightens, making him moan quietly against your skin.
Something about being on the floor takes you back to your college days, when you'd both be so worked up after practice that you couldn't even make it to the bed, but that feels too real right now.
"Art," you whisper as he runs his lips and teeth over your neck, before replacing it with his tongue to soothe the quickly blossoming marks. "Art, the bed. Now."
It takes him a second to process your words, but when he does, he loops an arm around your waist and lifts you up and onto the bed in one motion, before pushing you back onto the covers.
By the time your head hits the bed, he's already pulling your shorts and panties down, exposing you to the cool air. His lips follow the path of his hands as they trace up your legs, making you squirm under the hot touch of his rough fingers. He presses wet kisses to the insides of your thighs before spreading them apart and dropping to his knees on the floor in front of you.
"So wet for me," he whispers, almost to himself, before he dives in, his mouth making lewd noises as he licks a thick stripe up your core. "You taste so good."
He lifts your legs over his shoulders to give himself some leverage as he makes a mess between your thighs, licking and sucking your clit into his mouth before fucking you with his tongue.
His grip on your thighs is the only thing keeping you pinned to the bed as you writhe beneath him, trying to not squeeze your legs together from the heat spreading up your core.
His mouth feels amazing and it takes only minutes before you're already nearing the edge. You don't want to come until he is inside of you, though, so you yank his hair, pulling him up and off of you.
He looks up at you through his lashes, and he looks ethereal with his disheveled hair and his chin wet with your slick.
You, on the other hand, look like heaven itself with your eyes half-hooded from pleasure, and he can't help the grin that crosses his face as he licks his lips and climbs over you onto the bed. He lets you taste yourself as he kisses you again, and he lets out a low groan when you bite his lip just hard enough to sting.
"Fuck me," you gasp, your voice too breathy to be actually authoritative. "Fuck me the way I like."
Art grins at your desperate tone and the wild lust in your eyes, committing this image to memory for a later time when you're much further away.
He kicks his pants off as he lifts you both further up the bed, and after covering himself with a condom from his back pocket, he lines himself up and slowly pushes forward.
He gives you a few moments to adjust to his size before slowly pulling out nearly all the way and then thrusting in again.
The slight pain turns to pleasure almost immediately, but he keeps his pace steady so as not to hurt you. You need more right now, so you wrap your legs around him for leverage and flip him over so that you're straddling him.
He groans as his head hits the pillow, and when he tries to sit up, you press your hands to his chest, pushing him down as you ride him. This position gives you a lot more control, and you use it to your advantage as you bounce yourself on his cock, feeling the way he fills you up so fully from this higher angle.
His fingers dig into your hips as he helps lift you up and down, and his eyes are practically feral as he watches the spot where his cock disappears inside of you.
He's the perfect size to fill you up completely, and with each swivel of your hips, you get closer and closer to your climax, which is approaching so fast you can taste it.
You cry out when he hits exactly the right spot deep inside of you, and his eyes fly to yours as your movements start to stutter from your impending release.
Needing to see the look on your face when you come, he pushes your lower back forward so you fall against his chest, before lifting himself up to meet you halfway. With one arm locked around you, he brings his other hand down between the two of you to rub quick circles over your clit. The new angle lets him thrust up into you, and the increased pace of his movements mixed with the speed of his fingers sends you flying over the edge.
Your mouth falls open with a loud cry, and you squeeze him so tightly he's practically seeing stars. You look so beautiful when you come, like a goddess sent down here just for him, and when your eyes meet his, he finds his own climax.
His body jerks forward with the force of his release, and you let him thrust a few more times as he finally finishes inside of you.
After pulling out, he tugs you down to lay next to him, and at first you let him, but the emotions warring inside of you don't stay quiet for long.
You know that whatever this was isn't going to go anywhere. You didn't work in college, and you won't work now, and you don't want anyone to get hurt again, so you have to make a choice. Now.
"I need to get some rest," you say quietly, a tiny part of you hoping he doesn't hear you. "Before the next match."
"Yeah," he sighs after a beat. "Me too."
You let him hold you for a moment longer, before he unwraps himself from your body and sits up, tugging his shirt and pants back on. You tug the sheet back and wrap it around your torso as he stands up and walks to the door.
You're not sure what you're expecting as he goes to leave, but what you get is a silent nod as the door swings shut behind him.
#art donaldson smut#art donaldson#challengers#challengers smut#art donaldson x reader#art donaldson x fem!reader#challengers fanfiction#art donaldson x female reader#art donaldson x you
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VOX'S TURTLENECK IS RED AND KNIT - a fully comprehensive post
STOP BEING IN DENIAL YOU FOOLS. the poll may be over, and red may have won, but some of you still don't understand so here's a consolidation of all my points, if you haven't noticed this discourse is VERY serious and important
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COLOUR
as I've brought up in that godforsaken poll, vox's turtleneck is red because it matches the colour of val's wings
as you can see, these are both taken from the section of the photo that's under the same shadow
if you want to argue that part of the turtleneck is not the same lighting as val's sleeve
you can see that comparing vox's turtleneck sleeve which is RIGHT ABOVE val's sleeve and therefore DEFINITELY the same lighting, it's still a similar colour. therefore, vox's turtleneck is definitely a similar colour to val's wings and since we know val's wings are red, vox's turtleneck must also be red.
okay but what if val was ALSO wearing orange?
possible! but also I'd put that as less likely since the wings are PART of his body and more likely didn't change colour
not to mention it matches up with vox's eyes which we also know are red, yes it's possible that vox ALSO had orange eyes because he is a screen but what are the odds that both vox and val for some reason originally had orange eyes and orange wings respectively then changed to red? it's more likely that they were always red and the photo is just washed out to make it look orange.
however, I do accept people who see all the red stuff as orange because at least you admit the colours match, also admire the dedication to doubling down on orange
THE LIGHTING ON VOX'S TURTLENECK! IT'S CLEARLY YELLOW!
yellow is easily debunked because there are actual yellow things present in the photo we can compare to! gonna be reiterating from a previous post
see the heart on val's belt? we KNOW that's yellow
now let's go back to our favourite picture
that's the boy! let's start comparing it
val's inner left sleeve matches up with the yellow heart! therefore it is also yellow, and unless val is wearing mismatched inner sleeves, this indicates his right inner sleeve is ALSO yellow
so all of these! they are yellow!
and we can see, said yellow does not match vox's turtleneck at all, not even when I pick out the lighting on it, it doesn't match the turtleneck in any of the lighting, therefore vox's turtleneck is most DEFINITELY not yellow.
it being red also matches up with vox's current colour palette being blues and reds and it makes sense that he had the same palette back then too.
if you believe vox's eyes and val's wings are both also orange, it could be orange. I can live with that. but it is most likely red.
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okay but what about the stripes?
THERE ARE NO FUCKING STRIPES Y'ALL DRIVE ME INSANE. MORE INSANE THAN YELLOW TRUTHERS.
THOSE VERTICAL LINES YOU SEE. those are BLACK LINES, which are the OUTLINE, REPRESENTING THE KNITTING PATTERN.
I SWEAR SOME OF YOU DO NOT KNOW HOW SWEATERS WORK.
but when I colour-pick it it's not black!
my fucking god PLEASE tell me you know how low quality black lines work. time to reiterate more points from my previous posts!
you understand that the outline around val should be black right?
but would you take a look at that, colour picking it makes it look like just a darker colour of the inner colour. why? BECAUSE IT'S A SMALL PICTURE THAT'S OVERALL IN LOW QUALITY, so the black gets thinned down to hell that you can't even see the black anymore. BUT IT'S STILL A BLACK OUTLINE. THE SAME LOGIC APPLIES TO VOX'S SWEATER
let's use a normal line as an example
here is a black line
here is that same black line resized down to a lower quality.
NOTICE HOW IT'S GREY NOW? are we going to insist it was never black now because it's sized down?? NO. IT'S JUST A LOWER QUALITY BLACK LINE THAT LOSES OPACITY AS IT'S SIZED DOWN. THIS IS THE LOGIC I GO BY.
okay but what if they were black vertical stripe--
YOU ARE KILLING ME NO IT IS NOT. IT'S A SWEATER IT MAKES MORE SENSE FOR IT TO BE A KNITTING PATTERN THAN VERTICAL STRIPES. but okay. at least you still see the same thing as me you just... interpret... it differently.
but I swear on god, the black lines represent the KNITTING PATTERN, it makes MUCH more sense for it to be that because it's a sweater.
arguments about orange or yellow going together better with vox's jacket are extremely irrelevant to this argument when 90% of red things in hazbin hotel would probably look better if they weren't red. I'm not arguing that it even looks better! I'm just arguing that it is what it is and you should ACKNOWLEDGE THE TRUTH.
AND THEREFORE. THE STUPID FUCKING TURTLENECK IS RED AND KNIT. I REST MY CASE.
#osrs.txt#vox's stupid fucking turtleneck#hazbin vox#hazbin hotel vox#vox#vox hazbin#vox hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel#if you've been following along these probably sound familiar#I just wanted to put them all together#now when vox walks up with his stupid fucking red turtleneck in season 2 I can point to this post and say I was right
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the mark they saw on my collarbone
➔ post-outbreak Joel Miller x afab!Reader // series masterlist
➔ 4.4k words
➔ Joel’s instincts kick in when he runs into an omega in trouble along a smuggling route.
➔ Rated MA // a/b/o dynamics and the associated gender politics (alpha!joel and omega!reader), heavy dom/sub dynamics, unprotected piv sex, creampie, fingering, oral (reader receiving), biting/marking, blood, size kink, joel calls reader little one/little thing, mention of reader being food-insecure, alpha!tommy and alpha!tess are here briefly. takes place one year post-outbreak.
➔ this reader insert character: has female anatomy, no pronouns used, is generally able-bodied, is mentioned to be smaller/shorter than joel and can fit into his jacket, is otherwise a blank slate.
Tess’s face perks up halfway over a fallen tree–she stops in her tracks to tilt her nose into the wind. “You smell that?”
Of course Joel smells it. His senses were alerted to it about half a mile ago; he’s always had the better nose. He’s been trying to ignore it, however. There’s no point to giving into temptation in this shattered world, no matter how sweet the scent.
“Whew,” Tommy huffs, wrinkling his nose at the heavy pheromones that now drift around the trio. “Whoever it is, they’re closer than comfortable.”
“Smells like they’re in trouble,” Tess posits–always the thoughtful one. Always wanting to have faith in humanity, no matter how many reasons the last year has given her to lose hope. “That’s an omega. If not in full out heat, then damn near close to it.”
“Ain’t no way there’s an omega out on their own in these woods,” Joel growls. “It’s a trap.”
Tess shoots him a look–worried, stern. “What if it’s not?”
“It is.” He doesn’t even entertain the idea. There’s no way anything is left untainted in this world.
But with every step forward, the scent gets stronger and Joel’s resolve grows weaker. Your scent is so sweet. It reminds him of springtime in Austin, the little yellow sour grass buds and picnics in the park with…
The scar on his temple gives a single little throb, and he forces himself to focus up. They’ve got a clear destination, a contact to meet outside the Atlanta QZ. He needs to keep his head in the game and out of the past. Dwelling on that, on what the world was merely a year ago, is fucking pointless. No matter how much he hopes, how much he dreams, how much he begs and pleads to a god he never really believed in to begin with, nothing brings her back.
The scent makes his stomach churn the stronger it gets. It’s not like any omega he’s ever known before. They’ve all been… a little bitter. Or maybe his ex just left a tainted trace in his nose, spoiled it for everyone else. He’s never needed a partner to feel complete, anyway. Being a father is what gives him purpose. Gave him purpose.
He pushes that train of thought from mind, sets his jaw, and marches on.
The funny thing is, they’ve spent a lot of time in these woods–Tess, Tommy, and him. For as close to the QZ as it is, they’ve never met a single other soul in these parts.
That’s why, when Joel senses your pheromones only getting stronger as they forge on, he thinks about saying something. They’re headed straight towards you, into what must be a trap. The Atlanta QZ doesn’t take omegas; there’s no reason one should be so close. If he was smart, he’d make sure that the group avoids you at all costs. But there’s a deep, primal part of him that forces him to keep his mouth shut just as he’s about to open it and suggest rerouting their journey. He wants to investigate, to find out if you’re really as sweet as you smell.
He can tell Tommy and Tess are thinking along the same lines, and it makes his teeth grit together, eyes pinched in frustration. There’s an underlying possessiveness in every further stride he takes, eyes boring into the backs of his pack members’ heads while he takes position at the rear of the group.
This is why people used to say that alphas couldn’t work together, he realizes. Not that it’s ever been an issue for him before–but he’s never smelled an omega he’s wanted so much before, either. Tommy was always the tail-chaser, before everything went to shit; he was constantly getting himself into trouble, and Joel would constantly bail him out. And Tess… he’s never met an alpha quite like her. He’s never seen her with an omega, either; never bothered asking if she had one before the outbreak. But she’s compassionate, if a bit tough. She doesn’t seem like the main threat right now.
This is what he’s always hated about these god-forsaken roles. He watches Tommy’s pace pick up a little, sees the younger Miller’s nose tilt ever-so-slightly to the wind, and in this moment he sees his own brother as a threat. That’s something that should never have had to happen. But a pack of three, and all alphas… it was bound to happen sooner or later. Maybe they’ve all been fooling themselves.
It’s been great for them thus far, being able to use each other when necessary without fear of repercussions, but there also hasn’t been an omega in the picture yet. Now, with heavy pheromones swirling invisibly between the three of them, a subtle and silent struggle for dominance starts to rear its ugly head.
The scent only grows stronger, and it makes Joel worry. It’s heady, damn near overwhelming. Joel’s never witnessed an omega so close to heat without actually being in heat. The pull of your pheromones is dangerous–it’ll draw in every alpha within a range of miles, maybe even some from the QZ with how close you are. The range will only grow once your heat actually breaks out. The pack is heading directly towards the source of great danger, and all three of them know it. Even still, all three of them are powerless to stop it.
Joel spots you first. You’re nestled under a tree, sound asleep, half-camouflaged by a blanket of orange and brown leaves. You’re gorgeous, there’s no other way to describe you, and with your pheromones flooding his senses it’s nearly impossible for him to hold back from approaching you.
He reaches out a quick hand and grabs his brother’s arm just as he’s about to step towards you.
“Don’t,” Joel growls from deep in his chest. His eyes dart around quickly, searching every inch of autumn foliage for some sign of the trap this must be. They’ve heard about this exact kind of trap before, and Joel mentally curses himself for falling right into it despite knowing better.
Hardly any unmarked omegas survived outbreak day. Many of the few that did were captured by large groups of malicious betas and put into traps, their heats used to lure in alphas who were then exterminated en masse. Joel and his pack have been lucky not to encounter such a trap yet, but everyone’s luck runs out eventually.
They stand, they watch you, and they wait for the other boot to drop.
But it doesn’t. You sleep peacefully, albeit squirming a little bit, and no one else comes. There’s nothing but the sound of birds chirping in the distance and wind rustling the bare branches of the trees overhead.
All of a sudden, you wake. Your entire body jolts, nostrils flaring at the heavy and suddenly overwhelming scent of alpha. Your beautiful eyes widen with fear, and Joel sees you're about to make a break for it.
Without thinking, he steps forward and holds a hand out in front of him–a sign of goodwill. “Easy, omega. We ain’t gonna hurtcha.”
Your chest heaves with panting breaths, but you don’t move yet. You’re smart, he thinks. You know you can’t outrun all three of them.
“You’re in a spot a’trouble,” Joel continues, trying to make his voice as gentle as possible as he takes another tiny step closer to you. “Could smell your heat comin’ on from miles away. What’s a li’l thing like you doin’ out in the woods all alone?”
“Going to the QZ.” There’s a firmness behind your tone–how brave you are, he thinks. And how stupid.
“Where you comin’ from?” He asks–prying, but gently.
You look apprehensive, but you answer anyway. “Tennessee.”
“Didn’t do your research, did you sweetheart?” He grumbles as gently as he can. “Atlanta don’t take omegas. You go there, ‘specially in the state you’re in, you’ll be shot on sight.”
He can almost see the gears turning in your head, albeit slowly given your state; you’re wondering if he’s really telling the truth, if you can really trust him. You’re wondering why he hasn’t leaped at you yet.
You gulp and plant your hands in the dirt at your sides as if you’re getting ready to stand, but you don’t move yet.
Tommy takes a quick step forward, and Joel sees the way you flinch at the sharp crack of a twig underneath the younger Miller’s boot.
“Joel–”
“Shut the fuck up,” he growls, a little harsher than he means to. “Don’t you fuckin’ move, Tommy. I mean it.”
“Please don’t hurt me,” you whisper, hardly louder than the breeze. And then he sees it–the first pang of heat, your face screwing up in pain and your body squirming uncomfortably on the forest floor. You try not to show it, but Joel catches it anyway. Your heat is here, and his instincts take over.
“Fuck off,” he snarls, stepping firmly between Tommy and you. Tess steps forward, mouth agape in some mixture of shock and confusion, and Joel swivels his burning gaze to her. “Both of you. Fuck off. Go on ahead to Atlanta, I’ll meet up with you there.”
Tess doesn’t look affected, just concerned. “Joel, what the–”
“Go!” He roars. There’s no room for argument, even though Tommy opens his mouth like he might try. In the end, they know there’s no winning. Not right now, not with Joel’s pheromones rising and his eyes so dark. They hesitate just a moment, slowly back away, and then finally admit defeat and vanish into the trees.
Once they’re gone, you don’t try to hide your pain as much. A whimper escapes your lips as you squeeze your thighs together and all pretense falls away.
“You okay, little one?” He drops to his knees beside you so he can give you a better look. It’s clear that the road you’ve traveled has not been easy on you–he’s amazed you’ve survived as long as you have all on your own. You’re disheveled and dirty, maybe even worse off than he is. You look like you haven’t eaten in days, and the simple t-shirt covering you isn’t nearly warm enough to protect you from the chill riding in on the late autumn breeze.
Joel’s quick to rip his jacket off and drape it around your trembling shoulders–he feels a strange surge of pride when you quickly pull the fabric tightly around you and nuzzle your face into the collar for a deep inhale of his scent.
“Talk to me, omega.” His voice is deep, demanding. “You doin’ okay? What can I do to help?”
“Alpha…” Your voice is so quiet, and all he wants is to take you into his arms. But now of all times is not the time to be hasty. As much as he wants you, he refuses to take advantage of you.
“It hurts, alpha,” you continue quietly.
“I know, baby.” The sweet ting of southern accent in his voice seeps into your very veins and warms you from head to toe with each rapid thump of your heart. “How can I help?”
You reach a shaky hand towards him and he meets you halfway, marveling at how small your hand is compared to his paw. He never really considered himself a big guy until this moment, seeing you so small and helpless beside him. Clearly it’s affecting you too–he sees the way your thighs clench tightly together the second he touches you.
“I trust you,” you murmur so sweetly.
For a moment, he considers running. He’s done horrible things with the hands that now hold you so gently. He’s not one to be trusted. He’ll only end up hurting you.
“Your scent’s gonna draw more alphas in, baby,” he coos deeply. “There’s a whole QZ fullav’em just a couple miles away. It ain’t safe to be out in the open like this.”
But there’s no logic or reason left in your gaze–you nuzzle your face into his neck so you can inhale his scent straight from the source, and Joel knows there’s only one way this ends without some worse alpha coming along and hurting or killing you.
“Need you, alpha,” you plead as shiny tears fill your pretty eyes. “Please, it hurts so bad.”
Joel wonders if this is your first heat–it sure seems like it. You’ve probably been on suppressants since the day you presented. Every bone in his body screams for you; screams to take your pain away, to soothe you with his own body, to make you his.
He’s never felt so much like an alpha as he does in this moment, when your heat gets the better of you and you fuze your mouth to his in a searing kiss.
Joel actually moans into your mouth. It’s deep and a little louder than he means to be, caught off guard by the suddenness of the kiss but even more by how sweet you taste. Your scent didn’t do you justice, really. He’s never gotten addicted to someone from their kiss alone before, and yet just as suddenly as it started he needs more. He needs to devour you whole, to claim every inch of you until there’s nothing left for anyone else. Even as he licks into your mouth and easily takes control of your mouth with his tongue, he knows this is going to end badly. He also knows that he doesn’t care.
“Sweet little thing,” he coos as he tugs you to straddle his lap. You can feel the insistent press of his hardening bulge against your core, and you grind down so hard he hisses. “Easy baby, I gotcha.”
“Alpha, please…”
“Gotta have some patience, omega,” he tells you firmly. “I’ll take care’a ya, but I gotta getcha ready first. Don’t wanna hurtcha.”
You kind of want it to hurt, you kind of want him to burn himself into your very soul, but you don’t say as much out loud. You probably couldn’t form the words anyway–all that comes from your mouth is a needy little whimper.
“Hush, omega, you’re okay,” he whispers into your ear as he lays you back against the fallen leaves, one hand carefully cushioning your head while the other pulls your thigh open so he can slot himself between your legs. “M’gonna make it all better, just gotta be good f’me.”
“Alpha…” You feel the first ounce of relief as he drags your jeans and underwear down your legs in one smooth motion. Your burning skin is met with cool air and it feels incredible. Nearly as incredible as the sensation of his kisses tracing down your body, even through the fabric of your t-shirt that he leaves in place because he doesn’t want you getting cold no matter how much it feels like you might spontaneously combust if you don’t feel him inside you soon.
“You’re gonna be good for me, arentcha?” He hums against the hem of your t-shirt, just above where you so desperately need him.
“Yes, alpha,” you breathe as politely as you can manage.
His lips latch onto your clit as soon as the words have left your mouth. He knows exactly what you need–none of that torturous rapid flicking that you’ve experienced in the past but firm, honest-to-god, get-the-job-done suction.
He slips a finger into your dripping entrance and it’s honestly amazing that you don’t come right on the spot. Just that one thick finger is a stretch–it makes you arch your hips up off the ground, desperate to get away from the onslaught of pleasure and yet simultaneously wanting more.
“I know, sweetie,” he coos against your clit, slowly curling his finger until he finds the spot that makes your thighs tremble. “Feels good, doesn’it?”
“Y-yes, oh my–”
He throws all pretense out the window and adds two more fingers, filling you to your breaking point. You shatter without warning as he increases the pressure on your clit, thighs quivering and hips bucking pathetically as your warmth coats his chin. Your entire body wracks as he works you through it, fingers curling against your g-spot as his lips mercifully release your clit with an obscene pop.
“That’s right, baby,” he coos proudly. “So good f’me.”
You’re panting as you come down, satisfied for one beautiful moment even as he pulls his fingers from you so he can kiss his way back up to your mouth.
He slots between your legs so he can lick into your mouth again, and the taste of your own pleasure on his tongue makes everything come crashing back down. Your cunt clenches hard around nothing, and you groan out in pain and need for him.
He grunts when your legs lock around his sturdy waist, feet pressing into his ass to grind his heavy, jean-clad cock into your soaked folds. He moans from the very pit of his stomach, surprised at the sudden movement–and then he presses even harder, grinding himself so firmly against your cunt that you swear you can feel the outline of his mushroom head even through the layers of clothing he still wears.
“Tell me you want this, omega,” he pants into your ear, still pressed so tightly to you as he reaches down to tug his belt open. “Tell me to fuck you.”
“Please, alpha.” You’re trying so hard not to sound whiny, but you’re failing miserably. “Please fuck me.”
Joel simply adores how sweetly you ask for what you need. God, he doesn’t even know your name, but it’s taking everything in him not to claim you for the rest of eternity.
Would that really be so bad? Clearly you’re a survivor if you’ve made it this far, and as an omega no less. You could be a valuable addition to the pack.
But really, it’s the thought of having you as a home to come back to that gets him tugging his cock out of his jeans to the symphony of your quiet moans and pleas. He thinks about having a lovingly-crafted nest and the sweetest, tightest cunt he’s ever known waiting for him at the end of a long day, and it takes everything in him not to blow his load right then and there.
He knows he doesn’t deserve this, but he’s willing to be selfish anyway. Just this once.
“Holy shit,” you gasp when you look down and see the firm length of him, barely contained in his big hand. He’s thick and weeping precum, tip stained a dark maroon from sitting in his jeans untouched this long. He’s nothing like the betas you entertained yourself with before the outbreak–you’ve never even really seen an alpha’s cock in person, and certainly none this large.
He must see the apprehension in your gaze, because he takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger so he can raise your face to meet his dark, brooding eyes. “You tell me if it hurts, okay? Don’t wanna hurt you, wanna help you feel better.”
You don’t know why, but you trust him. So you nod, and you tug him into a deep kiss.
The first press of him into your waiting core has your mouth dropping open, head pressing back into the hand that cups the back of your head. He keeps you pressed so firmly against his entire body as he inches in. He’s so attentive, pulling back to watch your face for any sign of discomfort as he rocks his hips, pushing an inch deeper with every shallow thrust until the base of him settles as tightly against you as he can.
He doesn’t find anything in your expression other than pure euphoria.
He kisses you, breathless and messy, as he wills himself to stay still while fully sheathed in your tight heat. Damn it all, he’s fighting so hard for control. He’s never had someone squeeze him so perfectly, so warmly. Your cunt is pure, unadulterated heaven.
“A-alpha,” you whine once you’re ready, but he can’t move. Not yet. You’re his omega, he needs to take care of you, and he’s far too close to spilling himself deep inside your cunt and pressing even deeper so his knot can take root. He could never live with himself if he disappointed you like that.
“Please, alpha,” you try again, and the unrelenting need is what does him in. You need him, not just anyone. No one else could satisfy you how he does–he’s sure of it.
With the first true thrust of his hips, a wave of pheromones rushes over his senses. He basks in the scent of you, nearly high on it, and then the danger of this comes crashing back to him.
He thrusts deep, makes your toes curl and your chest heave, and he asks a weighted question as the pace continues. “This your first heat?”
You nod your head, barely even able to process his words. “R-ran out of s-suppressants.”
Fuck. He knew it. You don’t even seem to realize the danger, the calling card that you’re putting on display for every alpha within a ten mile radius. It’s a miracle that no one has shown up–everyone in Atlanta is probably wise to the trap scheme, luckily. But luck runs out eventually, and someone’s going to end up taking a chance for your delectable scent.
“Others’re gonna smell you, omega,” he growls as he grinds deep. “Ain’t safe to be unmarked out here. They’ll come f’ya.”
The pleasure is unbearable–toe-curling, blood-boiling, thigh-quaking. All you can do is sob and whine as his big cock fucks into you and hits exactly the right spot with every thrust.
“Gotta mark ya,” he continues quietly. “Only way to keep you safe, baby.”
You come out of your reverie a little bit at that; but deep down, you know he’s right. The only way you’ve been able to survive so long was a stockpile of suppressants you were lucky enough to get your hands on. But they’re gone, and with them your chances of surviving much longer. Unless you let this stranger mark you–the most intimate gesture possible.
“Okay,” you breathe against his neck. “Mark me.”
Your cunt clenches unbearably tight around his shaft as his teeth dig sharply into the base of your neck. Your taste floods his mouth, heady and warm–in combination with your legs locked around his waist, he can’t stop it. He’s coming before he can warn you, hot ropes of seed coating every inch of you, seemingly endless. And then, without thinking, he presses that little bit deeper so his knot can fill you to your limit.
You sob at the sensation, nails digging into his shirt-clad back in a feeble attempt to tamp down the overload of pleasure at the sudden stretch of his thick knot in your tight cunt.
“Fuckfuckfuck–” he growls into your bitten neck, grinding himself as deep as he can as his cock pulses within your tight walls. “Oh fuck omega, I’m sorry–”
You hush him to the best of your breathless ability as your hands smooth through his sweaty brown hair and down over his shoulders. “It’s okay. It’s okay, alpha. You made it so much better.”
There’s a long moment of silence, Joel’s mind swirling with so many thoughts that he can’t focus on a single one. You coax him through it silently, hands smoothing over the fabric of his shirt as your breathing slowly comes.
You’ve never felt so full, so complete. His scent surrounds you and fills you; nothing has ever felt quite so right.
You realize vaguely that he’s licking the blood from the teeth marks on your neck, and you think now’s as good a time as any to give him your name.
He looks up at you, confused for a moment, and then a warm laugh bubbles from his throat. God, he can’t remember the last time he actually laughed. What are you doing to him?
“Joel Miller,” he introduces himself back. “M’sorry, I shoulda started with that.”
His arms are getting shaky from supporting his weight above you, so he grabs firmly onto your waist and rolls smoothly onto his back with you rested snugly against his chest.
“M’sorry,” he repeats again as he feels his swollen knot pulse within you at the slight movement of your hips. “I meant to pull out, I–”
“I wanted it,” you tell him. “I wouldn’t let you. I’m sorry too.”
He gulps, nods once as a hand idly comes up to cradle your head. “I’ve got a guy in the QZ. He can get us a pill. But we’ve gotta be more careful next time.”
“Next time?”
“That was just the first round, baby,” he explains quietly. “Heats can last days, even a week. You’ll need a lot more care ‘fore it’s over.”
“Oh.” You feel so dumb, getting your education from someone whose knot is currently swollen inside you.
“We’ll get a pill,” he promises. “And I’ll pull out next time.”
“You’re… not leaving?” You’ve tried so hard not to have any false pretenses about this. You figured from the get go that he’d leave as soon as his knot went down and you’d never see him again.
He sighs heavily and runs a hand over the patchy brown hair on his chin. “Look, I… you met the rest’a my pack earlier, sorta. There’s just the three of us. We’re not good people, but… we’ll keep you safe. And you seem like you’re able to earn your keep.”
“I am,” you’re quick to assert.
“And I’ve marked you,” he adds. “Can’t just leave ya out here to fend for yourself. You’re my omega now.”
You don’t know why, but the words make your heart flutter.
You and Joel catch up to Tommy and Tess at the edge of the QZ, just in time for the meeting with their contact. Joel had explained to you on the way that it was an old acquaintance, a guy they’d met in Texas shortly after the outbreak who they’d worked with for a few months before he joined up with FEDRA. Now he sneaks supplies out to them in exchange for rarities from the other QZs.
That’s what the pack does, Joel had explained. They’re smugglers–they distribute things illegally between all the different continental quarantine zones.
Tommy and Tess see the two of you coming, and they’re instantly on guard. It only gets worse when Tommy recognizes the brown leather jacket wrapped tightly around your torso to shield you from the breeze.
“Joel.”
Joel tries to ignore Tommy’s call, but there’s not much he can do.
“Joel, what the fuck’ve you done?”
Joel supposes Tommy’s outrage is justified, but he shields you from it anyway. Truth be told, he doesn’t rightly know just what he’s gotten himself into with you.
#joel miller#joel miller x reader#joel miller smut#joel miller fanfiction#alpha! joel miller#joel tlou#joel miller x you#joel miller fic#tlou#the last of us#the last of us smut#the last of us fanfiction#cece writes#series: maroon
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can i interest you all in figure-skating coach!arlecchino?
(longer post utc. no smut, just fluff? - tw slight age gap and also idk specifics on figure skating, i just like the idea 😚)
she's a well-known figure-skater, having gone to the olympics for snezhnaya for several years, each time bringing home the gold for her nation.
she's elegant in her movements yet calculated down to each singular motion to pull it all together in beautiful displays on ice. her outfits are always perfect down to the very threads sewn together.
the way she carries herself at conferences, on camera she's stoic but professional, and pretty enough to have both men and women at her feet when she performs.
that is until the incident.
a chronic back injury she's sustained from pushing her body too far. her coach was always relentless. even when she was miles ahead of her fellow competitors, her coach wanted more.
her coach demanded perfection from all her trainees, yet arlecchino was different. held on a pedestal for all to see.
but don't get it twisted. arlecchino herself would often be found practicing these challenging routines all alone at 3 in the morning. she would be exhausted, limbs aching, and relentless to achieve the cleanest routine.
that back injury changed her life. she disappeared for a few years from the skating world, leaving many of her fans in shock and fear.
luckily, for them, she returned soon after with an apprentice of her own. a younger man by the name of tartaglia with a rather charming theme to all his performances.
unlike arlecchino, he was bolder in his performances. a little sloppy, by her standards, but he made up for it in his flair. she could see even the judges swooning over him, the fans' attention now on him rather than her.
or so she had assumed.
she meets you when her old coach introduces the two of you. she's a good several years older than you, and you still carry that sweet, fresh-faced, joyful look on your face.
as you practice your routine for the both of them, her old coach leans over, suggesting arlecchino take you instead.
she snorts uncharacteristically at the suggestion, watching how your spins are slightly wobbly, the way you look just a tad too small on the ice. she wonders how in the world she could make you a star.
it isn't until she sees you perform with your music, with your passion, that she decides to train you.
she grows annoyed by how starkly different her old coach's methods have become. unlike when arlecchino trained, you clearly haven't been sculpted to perfection. she wonders how, at this point in your career, you wouldn't be there. though, she supposes your smile and demeanor make-up for some of your faults.
she trains you harder, scheduling extra lessons for you outside of your normal hours, watching you yawn and rub your eyes when she calls you in at midnight.
many of her students often leave, saying the pressure was too great. how she was too demanding. she never offered extra lessons, expecting people to bring her talent to work with in the first place.
so why did she give you extra attention?
why wouldn't she just let you leave?
no. she didn't want that... she wouldn't let that happen. she'd rather take extra time to not only make you competent, but a fierce competitor.s
she's even put you in ballet classes. even more remarkable is her own talent in ballet, which you can't help but admire.
the first time she ever finds herself looking at you closer than she imagined. she stands next to you, demonstrating stretches, her hand running up your spine to adjust your posture.
you exhale so softly, almost imperceptibly, but it makes her touch falter, landing just a little too tenderly at the base of your spine before she pulls away. she watches you the rest of the lesson, adjusting your legs and arms to the proper position, her hand trailing up to graze over your jaw.
she tilts your head upwards. "stop looking down." she comments, low and sultry, seeing you swallow thickly. "you're being trained by one of snezhnaya's most renowned figure skaters. act like it."
she gently squeezes your jaw before releasing you. "we're finished for the day." she leaves you panting, entirely embarrassed and internally screaming out.
unbeknownst to you, she sits in the car, staring at the hand she used to touch your jaw, a hardened look on her face. she clenches her hand, a soft blush appearing on her normally dull cheeks as she waits for you so you may both leave the ballet studio.
when you finally do perform at competitions, she finds herself growing much more vocal. oftentimes, she remains quiet, only cringing at her other students' stumbles and deductions.
but not with you.
your moves have become much more elegant, and everyone can see. the commentary surrounds how you seem to emulate the epitome of what your coach stood for herself, but in a much softer tone.
your performance leaves her enraptured, your routine completely clean, garnering you praise and showers of applause.
yet you leave the ice with only one person in mind, your hand brushing over hers when you walk past her to find your water bottle.
and, for the first time, she finds herself wanting more. even when you're sweaty under your glittering dress, hair a mess, makeup starting to smudge. she wants you. her perfect apprentice.
#genshin impact x reader#genshin x reader#genshin impact#genshin wlw#fem reader#💐─𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘴#🪷─𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘴 `♡´#arlecchino x reader#genshin arlecchino#arlecchino genshin#arlecchino x you#arlecchino x y/n#arlecchino
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you wouldn't be the first renegade to need somebody, atsumu miya
pairing atsumu miya x reader
word count 1.4k
synopsis love for you is holding him; love for him is allowing himself to be held.
content contains hurt/comfort, intimacy, atsumu-centric, insecurities, unconditional love, showering together but make it sfw
The stinging spray of scalding hot water from the showerhead should be enough to get him to leave, but he barely registers the pain, can’t seem to bring himself to feel the heat, can’t seem to bring himself to feel anything.
No — that’s not entirely true. He feels one thing.
Devastated.
Everyone knows Atsumu Miya likes to talk shit on and off the court. It’s his thing, his trademark, his brand. Lots of athletes like to talk big about how they’re going to win; who the hell is going to support a guy who walks onto the court with a well, it’ll be alright if I lose.
He’s staring down at the tiles of the shower, can somewhat register the persistent barrage of water spraying onto his back as he has one hand splayed on the wall, shoulders slumped, water dripping from his hair and running into his vision, making everything blurry.
Don’t blink, he tries to demand of himself, but the issue is, we can’t always control our bodies. He has to shut his eyes, just for a brief second, and in that second, it all comes back to him.
The opposing team at set point. His team depending on him to serve. One point left. Only one chance. He can feel the stadium’s crowd holding their breath, can feel the lack of air in the atmosphere, can hear how loudly the blood is rushing to his head. Dizzy. Dazed. He doesn’t give into pressure, not anymore, not ever. Doesn’t feel performance anxiety, knows better than to try to attempt something flashy just for the glory of a good story to tell.
Give ‘em a serve they don’t have a chance of receiving, he demands of himself.
The final seconds of the match all come to him like stills from a movie, each frame another devastating blow to his ego, his self-worth, his very being. The ball is in the air, he’s bending his knees to prepare for the jump, his hand making contact with the ball. Something’s off, he can feel it upon first contact, but it’s too late to save, too late for him to change anything.
The ball lands.
On his side of the net.
He’s frozen in place as he stares ahead. He can tell the other team is cheering, slapping each other on their backs, and he can hear the blow of a whistle, the celebration from the crowd. But all he sees is the ball. All he sees is his failure.
Atsumu has spent a good portion of his volleyball career knowing that he plays the game better than most. It’s why he feels so comfortable talking about the lack of skills other players display. It’s why he always has something to say at practice, on the court, during a post-game interview.
And he knows he makes mistakes. He knows that he’s only human. But a bad serve in the middle of a game isn’t as crushing as knowing that he is the sole reason as to why the Black Jackals’ season is going to be ending early.
Where did he go wrong? He did everything perfectly, did everything the way he usually does. Why couldn’t he perform? Why did he let his team down? Why—
“Atsumu?”
He doesn’t look up, and all you can see is the sad shape of his outline from the foggy glass door of the shower. You know that Atsumu probably wants nothing more than to be alone right now, but you can’t help but worry when fifteen minutes have gone by, and you could still hear the shower running. That’s your first sign that something is wrong.
Atsumu is a notoriously quick showerer, to an almost concerning degree. When you first started living together, you debated planning elaborate tricks to see whether or not he was even using soap. (Which, in hindsight, was just flatout silly; he walks out the shower smelling overwhelming of his Axe Men’s 3-in-1 and Old Spice deodorant.)
No — the first sign that something is wrong would be his uncharacteristic silence on the trip back home. He hadn’t responded to your it’s okay, baby, you’ll get ‘em next season. Instead, he just looked out the window, the devastated expression on his face silencing you as well. Even when he lost to Kageyama, he had been disappointed, upset, but still talking big about how he was going to crush the Adlers next time around. He had then made a comment about Tobio’s stupid haircut, and that’s when you told him if he doesn’t have anything nice to say, he shouldn’t say anything at all.
Now, you’d give anything to have him say something. Something for you to work with.
“Atsumu?” You call out for him again, worried when you don’t see his figure moving.
Pathetic. Atsumu thinks that’s what he is. A loser, a fucking scrub, a failure. Even if his teammates won’t admit it, the media will. And what then? Will you think that about him too? It’d be the truth, wouldn’t it? Isn’t that why you’re in the bathroom now? To pity him?
He’s too busy tearing himself down to react to the distinct sound of you sliding back the glass door of the shower so you can enter it. There’s a brief burst of the cool air of the bathroom hitting his exposed body, but it evaporates the moment you shut the door.
“Oh, ‘Tsumu.” You whisper it, and he wants to tell you that he’s not fucking fragile. That he’s not going to shatter into a million pieces if you just raise your voice, if you tell him how you really feel about him. He doesn’t move, doesn’t turn around to face you. He doesn’t want to. He can’t.
His skin is red from the heat of the water, his back staring at you angrily, hurt. The skin’s going to need some time to heal, and you turn the faucet, lowering the temperature of the water.
“Turn around, honey. Please?” You’ve never seen Atsumu so upset before, so quiet. You wait several minutes for him to actually do as you request, and you think it’s only because he wants a way to get rid of you sooner.
You don’t say anything to him as you reach for his shampoo, letting it lather in your hands before you give him a pleading look, one that has him leaning down so you can reach his hair. It feels nice, he thinks, the way you’re shampooing his hair. You’re gentle with your movements, and it almost relaxes him.
You use your body wash on him. Massage the suds into his skin, but you’re mindful of the amount of pressure you apply. You know which areas of his skin is more sensitive from its exposure to the hot water, and you are careful with the spots of his body that he had chosen to be negligent with.
“Am I so fuckin’ worthless that you have to do somethin’ as simple as bathing me?” He’s not angry at you. He might spit out the words — words that come out sounding all raw and scratchy, like they had to personally claw themselves from his throat — but the anger is not directed at you. It’s at himself.
“Look at me.”
His eyes are glossy, wet, shiny, and you know it’s not because of the shower. You’ve never seen Atsumu cry before, and you’re not sure what you’re supposed to do. So, you do what feels right. You whisper his name softly, tenderly, and it’s this tenderness, your unwavering softness, your unconditional love, that breaks him. That makes him feel safe enough to break. That makes him think of the possibility that you’ll take these jagged pieces of him and piece them back together for him, with him.
He’s so much bigger than you. You tell him all the time that he’s larger than life, and he thinks about that comment as he lets himself sink into your open arms, as he lets himself be held. He has never felt smaller in his life, and in your embrace, he buries his face into your shoulder, letting his warm tears mix in with the water already on your body.
“I don’t know how you can still look at me.” He mutters, and every word is spoken onto your skin, tiny blades striking you.
Atsumu isn’t sure what he wants to hear, isn’t even certain that there’s anything that could be said to ease his devastation, but melts into you even more so when you tell him,
“Atsumu, I thought you already knew that nothing can change the way I look at you.”
#atsumu miya x you#atsumu miya x reader#atsumu x reader#hq x reader#haikyuu x reader#angst#one shot#fluff#drabble#imagine#alright if this doesn't make it to the tags im never posting again
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